#IT'S A PRETTY THING BUT AT THE SAME TIME IT FELT SO UNNATURAL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redvexillum · 3 months ago

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Dedicated to my fluff-loving friend, Ms. 🍑. I'm getting whiplash. The last four days were probably the darkest and smuttiest writing I've done - and today, it's ...fluff to the max. I stuffed all the fluff in my mouth. I want this story to be so fluffy that I become fluffy.

A smile was said to be worth a thousand words, a silent language that could light up the room, soothe others, or even hide the darkest of truths.

But what did it mean if you couldn’t smile? If every time you tried, your lips refused to cooperate, did that make you worthless?

All your life, people said the same thing: “Just smile, honey.” And when you didn’t, they assumed you were upset, angry, or just a frigid bitch.

But that wasn’t it. It was never that simple. You weren't upset, at least not in the way they thought.

So, you started practising, standing in front of the mirror day by day, willing yourself to smile. You’d stretch your lips upwards, trying to mould them into something that looked natural. But the face that stared back at you was wrong.

It didn’t look like you.

The curve of your lips felt forced, your eyes not lighting up the way they were supposed to. The reflection almost mocked you with its emptiness, the smile looking more like a grimace, a mask of something false.

And you hated it.

You hated how fake it felt, how alien it looked. It didn’t bring you any joy, just a hollow, bitter taste.

If a smile was truly worth a thousand words, then maybe yours was worth nothing at all.

Alastor had spent months trying to coax a smile out of you. When you first arrived at the hotel, your lips were a perfect, unyielding line, your eyes flat and devoid of any spark. At first, he paid you no mind. The hotel was bustling, full of fresh souls seeking redemption, and he had no shortage of entertainment.

The “Princess’ Redemption Program,” as much as it irked him, was thriving. There were countless other residents, and yet...you stood out, your lack of expression gnawing at him more than he’d care to admit.

He didn’t like you – not at first. While others laughed and grinned, you remained stone-faced, and it irritated him. You befriended everyone in the hotel, navigating its chaos with grace, but never once did your lips so much as twitch into a smile. And that irked him more.

Eventually, something in him shifted. Perhaps it was the challenge you presented, or maybe he had eternity to burn. Either way, he decided he was going to make you smile. Once, just once, and then he’d be on his merry way.

So, he tried everything. At first, you merely raised an eyebrow, curious but silent as he suddenly began spending more time with you. Yet, you never complained. Instead, you listened, offering no reaction other than attentive silence.

He’d tell jokes, ones that normally left him in stitches, but you’d sit there, unblinking, lips still pressed into that same stubborn line.

Then, he tried pranks. He’d tap your shoulder and watch you startle when he appeared behind you, his laughter echoing down the halls. Every time, the same trick, the same reaction – but never a smile. Only a flicker of surprise before you carried on, as if nothing had happened.

“Knock, knock!” He said one day, his voice lifting to its usual jovial pitch, eyes gleaming with mischief.

You tilted your head, blinking innocently at him. “Who’s there?”

“Boo,” he said, leaning closer, the tension in the air thickening with his creeping grin.

“Boo, who?”

His neck tilted, cracking unnaturally to the side as his microphone staff crackled with a sharp burst of static. “Oh, don’t cry now, dear! You’ll really have something to weep about once the fun begins!” His smile stretched wide, cutting into his cheeks as the ominous word settled into the space between you.

But you stared back, unfazed. “That joke is pretty on-brand with you,” you said in the same soft monotone, nodding slightly before continuing on your way as if nothing had happened.

Alastor’s left eye twitched as he watched you walk away, completely unfazed. He had told you674 jokes. Six hundred and seventy-four. And not once had you cracked a smile. It couldn’t be that his jokes weren’t funny – that would be an outrageous, preposterous impossibility!

No, it had to be you.

No matter how many jokes fell flat, Alastor wasn’t deterred. When punchlines didn’t work, he decided to escalate – physical humour.

One afternoon, while you were quietly reading in the hotel library, he summoned a shadow tendril with the flick of his hand. It slithered across the floor silently until it reached your side, then gently wiggled under your arm.

A soft, startled yelp escaped you, a sound so unexpectedly cute that it nearly startled him. You looked down at the mischievous tendril, now waving back at you in playfulness. Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment creeping up your neck as your eyes flicked toward Alastor, trying to understand what just happened.

And Alastor? He blinked, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he realized something new about himself. There was something oddly...endearing about the sound you made. It reminded him of a small, startled puppy, and he couldn’t help but want to hear it again.

But why?

Why did he suddenly crave that pathetic little noise? He almost wanted to scold himself for it, but the curiosity was far stronger.

A booming laugh erupted from him instead, loud and dramatic as always, masking the strange and unfamiliar sensation bubbling in his chest. His heart – what was left of it – beat harder, faster. Palpitations? After death? How bizarre.

Over time, however, things changed in subtle ways. He noticed how easily you fit into his life, sliding into his routine with an almost unnerving grace. Somehow, without ever asking, you convinced him to join you for breakfast each morning. While you quietly nibbled on toast with jam or a simple egg, Alastor would indulge in more ...exotic fare – perhaps a raw deer carcass or the seared flesh of a particularly deserving sinner. Yet, your expression never wavered. No grimace. No disgust.

There was something oddly comforting about your presence at the breakfast table, the quiet companionship as the two of you sat together. Alastor hadn’t realized how much he missed that – true companionship – since arriving in Hell. Surrounded by chaos and destruction, he hadn’t noticed the absence of something so simple, so human.

He didn’t mind the morning with you. In fact, he began to look forward to them.

Days blurred into weeks, and then months. Despite the time you spent together, Alastor had still never seen you smile. Occasionally, he thought he caught the faintest hint of something – a softening in your eyes, perhaps, when you glanced his way – but it never quite reached your lips. At this point, he figured he was smiling enough for both of you.

Then, something strange happened. He stopped obsessing over making you smile. Somewhere along the line, it ceased being a game or a challenge. He just...stopped. And as for what he was doing with you now? He wasn’t entirely sure.

He found himself becoming more involved in your daily life, his presence intertwining with your routine. He shared more meals with you. He strolled beside you through town, spinning tales of his past, both in life and in Hell, as you listened with quiet, patient attention.

And now, here he was, sitting next to you in the library, the two of you reading in comfortable silence, side by side.

Your arms barely touched, but when you turned a page and the lightest brush of your arm grazed his, Alastor found himself leaning ever so slightly toward you. The movement was so subtle, so imperceptible, that even he wasn’t sure why he did it.

But he didn’t pull away.

“ROOOWRRR!” A ghastly yowl echoed through the halls, followed by a chorus of scream – most notably, Charlie’s. Her frantic voice rang out, sharp and panicked.

“ALASTOR!” Charlie’s scream tore down the hall, urgent and distressed.

You jolted in place as you instinctively turned to Alastor. Confusion and a flicker of fear danced across your face. Without thinking, Alastor’s hand reached out, patting your arm in what should have been a casual gesture.

Yet, it felt different – this was the first time he’d touched you in an attempt to comfort. His eyes flickered down to where his hand rested against your skin, realizing the weight of the act. Suddenly, he pulled back as if he had been burned, his fingers tingling from the contact.

Clearing his throat, he straightened up, trying to cover his uncharacteristic slip with a wide, winning smile. “Ah, it’s nothing to worry your silly head about, darling! Just...that thing again. Visits every three years, though it’s a bit early this time,” he said, his tone light as he brushed imaginary lint off his sleeves, his movements slow and deliberate.

“That...thing?” You tilted your head, your wide eyes full of innocent curiosity and a touch of lingering uncertainty. Your shoulders hunched in slightly, unconsciously trying to make yourself smaller, to shrink away from whatever chaos awaited in the lobby.

Alastor’s gaze softened, and an unfamiliar urge tugged at him. He wanted to rub your back in reassurance, to ease the tension in your frame. He had hugged Rosie, hugged Mimzy – so surely, hugging you wouldn’t be any different.

Yet as his eyes traced the delicate line of your figure, he froze. His heart thudded in his chest, the heat crawling up from his core to his cheeks, unbidden and unfamiliar. The feeling, strange and sudden, made his left eye twitch.Heartburn? Now, of all times?

“It’s nothing, darling,” Alastor assured, folding his hands neatly behind his back, masking the odd sensation that threatened to rise. “You might as well come and see for yourself – it's quite the hideous little thing,” he added with a smirk, trying to inject a bit of humour.

Curiosity lit up your face, your lips parting in a soft gasp, eyes gleaming. “A hideous little thing?” you asked, your voice gentle as you picked up your pace to walk beside him.

He couldn’t help but notice that each of his strides required you to take two steps to keep up. Without much of a thought, he slowed his pace until you matched him easily. “Yes, hideous and annoying. I’ve repeatedly told everyone not to feed it, yet here we are,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing in mild distaste as you approached the source of the chaos.

When you reached the lobby, your eyes widened in pure awe. There, bouncing off the walls with a guttural yowl, was a red-furred four-legged creature the size of a cat. Its eyes were comically pointed outward, each one staring in opposite directions, and the tufts of black tipped fur on its ears bore an uncanny resemblance to Alastor’s own. To top it off, the creature sported a monocle on its left eye – just like Alastor’s.

“Alastor!” Vaggie’s voice cut through the air as she stood in the centre of the room, sweating and pointing an accusatory finger at the beast. “Deal with Catastor!”

Your eyes darted to Alastor. “Catastor?” you repeated, the name settling on your lips as you tried to suppress the amusement creeping into your voice.

Alastor sighed, his grin never faltering. “Yes, Catastor. Don’t ask,” he muttered, casting the creature a look of pure disdain. He turned his attention to Vaggie, his grin tightening as his eyes narrowed. “I’ve told you many times, that thing looks nothing like me,” he spat, thrusting the head of his staff toward the red-furred creature now lazily stretching its body and wiggling around the room, seemingly oblivious to the chaos it had caused.

“Really?” you mused, stepping forward, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “It does look a bit like you,” you teased, inching closer to the bizarre creature.

Alastor’s gaze darted to you, and his voice lowered, an edge of warning in his tone. “Careful, darling. That thing has a taste for sinners,” he muttered, grimacing. “Considering, it always manages to sneak into my stockpile of them.”

The beast, as if sensing the conversation was about it, suddenly lunged in your direction. Alastor’s eyes widened in horror. His heart leapt into his throat as he instinctively reached out, but before he could summon even a flicker of his power to protect you, you had already acted.

With surprising grace, your hands slid under the creature’s armpits, effortlessly catching it mid-lunge. You cradled it as though it were nothing more than a stray kitten. “Hello again,” you cooed softly, your voice calm, eyes brightening with a gentle warmth as you tilted your head in amusement.

The room was a mess – the lights still swayed from the beast’s earlier rampage, and a bit of the floorboard lay shattered and torn across the space. Everyone’s hair was in disarray, save for Alastor and you.

Offering an apologetic smile, you looked around. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, glancing at the others. “I didn’t know we weren’t supposed to feed him.”

Alastor blinked, too stunned to respond. You held the creature against your chest, your fingers tenderly petting its head, and to his utter disbelief, the beast – this monstrous, chaotic thing – melted in your hands. Its lower half sagged like goo, limp and boneless, as you held it up by its torso.

A burst of laughter slipped from your lips, light and full of joy. “Silly boy,” you murmured, playfully bopping the creature’s nose. Then, you looked up at Alastor, your eyes curved in a gentle, delighted line, and your smile – radiant and bright – struck him like a punch to the gut. “I promise I’ll take care of him properly, so he doesn’t cause any more trouble. Could he stay?”

“Absolutely-” Alastor began, his voice rising in protest, but the words caught in his throat. His gaze was glued to your lips, curved in that dazzling smile. He hadn’t even noticed the creature snuggling closer to your chest, its purrs filling the air like a mocking reminder of its victory. That hideous, absurd thing had succeeded where he had failed for months.

Before he could fully voice his objection, Angel Dust’s voice broke through the moment. “Wait - you’ve been feeding it?” Angel coughed, climbing out from beneath the rubble, dusting himself off. “And that thing didn’t try to eat you?”

Vaggie, eyes narrowed, stomped her foot in frustration. “How do you know it tries to eat people, Angel? Did you feed it too?”

Angel shrugged, glancing at her sheepishly. “Maybe...”

Alastor’s eye twitched, irritation surging through him. Months – months of trying to get you to smile, and now, here you were, beaming because of that disgusting creature. He clenched his jaw, attempting to suppress the growing wave of annoyance.

Vaggie shot a glare toward Charlie, groaning in exasperation. “No...don’t tell me. Have all of you been feeding Catastor after Alastor explicitly told us not to?”

Alastor gritted his teeth, the growing resentment gnawing at him. The fact that the creature’s name had been twisted to mimic his own was an insult he could barely stand. He opened his mouth, ready to snap with a biting retort, but before he could, you stepped in front of him.

The beast had fully stretched, wrapping its long, serpentine torso around your neck like a scarf, purring contentedly as it nuzzled into you. Alastor’s eyes flickered between the creature and your smiling face, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to shift.

That smile – your smile – he'd been chasing it for so long. And now that it was here, he wasn’t sure what to do with the flutter of emotions tangled up inside him.

“Alastor, if he causes any trouble, I’ll-” you faltered, eyes scanning the floor, searching for words before meeting his gaze. “I’ll deal with the consequences. So, c-could you give him a chance? I promise I’ll take good care of him, we-we'll stay out of trouble!” Your voice wavered, eyes pleading, as your once hopeful smile slowly began to shrink.

Alastor’s eyes flicked to the red-furred beast lounging lazily around your neck. The creature had been nothing but a nuisance, sneaking into his stock of food and leaving foul messes all over his bayou. The obvious answer was no. It was so clear in his mind – he could already see himself punting the cat-like creature far across the pentagram, dusting his hands of the whole ordeal.

But as your smile withered, and your eyes searched his, slowly realizing the inevitable refusal, something tugged at his chest. That sinking look in your eyes...it ate away at him.

The obvious answer was no.

But instead...

“I swear,” he began, his tone sharp, deliberate. “If that thing causes any hint of trouble in my room, particularly, I’m going to eat that cat.” He enunciated each word, his grin widening as he flashed his sharp teeth, shooting a glare at the foul creature. In response, the creature mockingly stuck its tongue out at him, which only further soured his mood.

What surprised him was how your face lit up – how your eyes widened, shimmering with joy, and how your once solemn expression now blossomed into something so bright it seemed to light up the entire room. You grabbed his hands in your excitement, shaking them up and down with a bubbling laughter that filled the air like music.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” you exclaimed, laughter spilling from your lips like sunshine.

Alastor stood frozen, utterly stunned. He stared at you, his grinning mask forced on as he took in the sight of your laughter, the warmth of your smile. It was as if something inside him had cracked open – he hadn’t realized how much he wanted to see you like this, to hear that laughter, to witness the unfiltered joy in your face.

His heart pounded against his rib cage, thrumming in his ears like a chaotic rhythm, and for a moment, he was paralyzed by the strange, unfamiliar sensation washing over him.

How had you managed to convince him to take care of that beast? That thing would undoubtedly invade every corner of your life... and, by extension, his.

He couldn’t understand it.

Was he ill? Dying?

But then you called his name, your voice soft, sweet, still laced with that bright smile that now adorned your face as if it always belonged there. And in that instant, he knew. With dawning horror, he realized what was happening.

His tongue felt heavy, his chest unbearably tight, and his left eye twitched erratically. He took a giant step backward, trying to ground himself, then another, and another, until he melted into the shadows, disappearing without a word.

Alastor realized, with a deep, unsettling dread, that he fancied you.

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

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dexteri0us · 1 month ago

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no, i don't want nothing crazy; just wanna get you alone; and all of this snow is falling; i can make you fall too

pairing: best friend's dad!dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, domesticity, harrison (listen, i'm not a fan of his, but he serves a purpose), age gap (both reader and harrison are in college), best friend's dad!dexter, smut - shower sex, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, dom!dexter

summary: requested: "shower sex with dexter? please and thank you 🙏🏻"

w/c: 6.9k

a/n: i honestly love new blood and i will always consider it a christmas tv. merry christmas!🎄

Spending Christmas in Iron Lake wasn’t your initial plan, but now that you thought about it, it was for the better. You were supposed to spend Christmas with your dad this year. It also included him picking you up in Iron Lake and driving you to New York, but he backed out at the last minute. You weren’t even surprised at this point; he always went out of his way to let you down. Or maybe it was just your perception. After all, he said the same thing about you.

Going to your mom’s wasn’t an option either, not with her boyfriend in the picture. He was a carbon copy of your dad, not just in appearance in attitude too. Arrogant, dismissive, and always acting like spending time with you was beneath him, especially when you were a teenager. He’d never really made an effort to connect. So, you were pretty happy to get into college and move into the dorms. But that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted to spend Christmas alone.

You couldn’t ask Harrison to take you either because he had plans with Audrey.

“Fuck.” You muttered, reading the text from your dad.

“What’s wrong?” Harrison asked, glancing up from across the table. A smudge of clung to the corner of his mouth as he took another bite of his cheeseburger, his eyes briefly scanning the diner for a waitress that would bring him another cup of coffee.

“Dad bailed on me. I’ll probably have to hitchhike to get to New York.”

“What? No way! I’ll drive you,” he said immediately.

“Harrison.” You gave him a look. “You promised Audrey to help her and Angela with the charity drive.”

“Out of all people, I think Angela and Audrey would understand.”

You raised a brow at him, knowing full well he’d argue until he was blue in the face, but you weren’t about to let him ruin his plans because of you. You were big on keeping promises, and you sure as hell weren’t going to be the reason someone broke theirs.

“Well, you can always spend Christmas with us. My dad won’t mind.”

And that’s how you ended up swapping the couch for the bed with Harrison every night, spending the first of many Christmas breaks with the Morgans. Well, technically the Morgan-Lindsays, but to you, Harrison’s dad would always be Mr. Morgan.

When you first called him that, he just stared at you, almost startled, but Harrison had quickly jumped in to explain. Not to you, to his dad, that you just couldn’t get used to the difference in their last names. He seemed to relax a little after that, though he still looked kind of stiff most of the time.

Sometimes, you wondered if he didn’t like you, or if your presence made him uneasy. But Harrison had reassured you that he was always like that. He’s just weird like that. Don’t take it personally.

So, you didn’t. And truth be told, over the next Christmases you spent with the father-son duo, you became more comfortable around Mr. Morgan – or Jim, as he insisted on calling him. “Jim” just felt unnatural to you, so usually, you just settled for “hey” to get his attention. But every now and then, “Mr. Morgan” would slip out of your mouth. And truth be told, you thought he liked it.

Eventually, it would become like a running joke between you two.

One night, during your second Christmas in Iron Lake, you caught him with that amused smile on his face when you said it again.

“What?” You asked, passing him a plate to dry as the two of you cleaned up after dinner. Harrison was in the other room, button-mashing his way through a video game.

“What?” Mr. Morgan asked, glancing at you with mock confusion.

“Every time I call you Mr. Morgan, you look like you’re holding back some big inside joke.”

“Do I?” he said lightly, his brows furrowed, but the smirk formed by his lips didn’t falter.

“Yeah.” You snorted, as if it was the most obvious thing. “It’s weird.”

“Weird? I’ll have to talk to Harrison, he’s bad influence.”

You just rolled your eyes. You weren’t going to kid yourself. You had developed almost a feet-kicking crush on him and his teasing wasn’t helping. You felt like a little girl with a silly crush on her classmate.

You remember how reserved he had been, intense, when you met him for the first time. It had made you a little bit uncomfortable, but paradoxically, you preferred that to some pretense-interest in your life. He already knew about your situation with your dad and your mother – or more specifically, with her boyfriend.

You loved Harrison, but he kind of had a big mouth on him, and he had told his dad. You could tell from the way Mr. Morgan avoided the subject altogether. Honestly, it was refreshing. Audrey’s mom asked about your parents every year – polite but a bit probing, sometimes you felt like she was judging you and or maybe thought there was more to the story. You didn’t blame her, though. First, she was a cop, and second, they were your family, after all. At least, by blood.

Still, you felt more welcome here than you ever did with your parents. Mr. Morgan made it so easy too, even if things had been a little awkward at first.

The first Christmas you spent in Iron Lake, you ended up in the woods with Mr. Morgan, collecting firewood. Harrison made sure you felt comfortable being alone with him, and you did, it was just a little awkward.

You didn’t know what was weirder – spending Christmas in Iron Lake, or trudging into the woods along with your best friend’s dad. He didn’t exactly scream “festive cheer” with his quiet, no-nonsense demeanor.

Harrison had once told you that he wasn’t always like that. Apparently, there had been some kind of hunting accident, back when Harrison was learning how to shoot. He’d hit his dad, barely missing the heart, but he'd survived. Harrison described it as a Christmas miracle, but from that moment on, Mr. Morgan just hadn’t felt the need to celebrate Christmas like he had the years prior.

You watched him move through the snowy woods with certainty, like he already knew exactly which trees to check for fallen branches.

“So, uh… you do this every year?”

Nice. Real charming. You were a master in manipulating professors into extending deadlines. How are you so bad at making casual conversation?

“Pretty much,” he replied without looking up, crouching to grab a branch half-buried in the snow. “Wood-burning stove keeps the place warm. It’s more reliable than the heater.”

“Oh.” You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you. The cool air bit into your cheeks, your boots crunching in the snow as you followed a few steps behind. Then you tried again. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d be big on central heating.”

You tried to joke, but he stopped for a moment, straightening up and glancing at you with a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “What kind of guy do I strike you as?”

“Well, you know.” You shrugged, trying to not get distracted by the joke going over his head. “The ‘off-the-grid cabin’ type. Knows his way around a woodchipper. Probably has a couple of tarps in the trunk, just in case.”

He watched you, probably waiting for a smile to crack, but your expression remained serious. You started to think maybe you’d gone too far. But then he finally snorted softly, pointing the branch in your direction.

“Tarps are versatile.”

His delivery was deadpan too, so dry it caught you off guard. Was that… a joke? You couldn’t tell, but you let out a laugh anyway. You decided to just role with it.

“Right. For winter emergencies.”

He didn’t respond, just gave a faint nod as he tossed another branch onto the sled you’d brought along.

“You’re doing fine,” he said after a moment, his tone surprisingly reassuring.

It made you scoff, your breath puffing in the cold air.

“Thanks Mr. Morgan, I was really worried about failing Firewood 101.”

You really enjoyed spending time with him like that, even though he didn’t talk much. But the way he adjusted his pace so you wouldn’t fall behind, stepped on a stick that was stubbornly stuck to the sole of your boot, or helped you with a stubborn log trapped under the snow made you feel like you didn’t have to try so hard.

When that Christmas break ended, you felt kind of bittersweet, because you knew you’d now see him only occasionally when he’d visit Harrison in New York. That is, if you were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. But the year went by like nothing, and lo and behold, Harrison had invited you to spend another Christmas with them, saying that his dad brought it up first. To Harrison, it meant nothing, to you? Every-fucking-thing.

So now, during the second Christmas with the Morgans, you were doing domestic shit with him, like washing dishes while he was teasing you. It made your body all jittery with every passing moment. Hell, you didn’t even mind that he didn’t have a dishwasher, because you liked doing dishes with him. And Harrison was grateful for that too. See, everyone was getting something out of it.

“Maybe I just think it’s funny. You’re so committed to it. But I guess it’s better than calling me hey.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Okay, you brought that on yourself. No offense, but Jim just doesn’t suit you. It’s too basic.”

He had that faint smile on his face again, his eyelids dropped as if he was having a whole inner monologue again, but you didn’t call him out this time.

When that Christmas ended, you didn’t have to wait long to see him again. Harrison started inviting you to every holiday – Easter, Halloween and Thanksgiving. Of course, you couldn’t make it to all of them, but you did appreciate the extra time you got to spend with Mr. Morgan. He’d even helped you, Harrison and Audrey move them into their new apartment in New York. And you were too naïve and paranoid, so you thought he was doing it all for you.

So, next Christmas, you decided to come prepared.

“You can’t give her another necklace. Try to be original,” you said, sipping on your coffee, watching Harrison rub his temples as he tried to think of a Christmas present for Audrey.

“Okay… okay.” He sighed, letting his hands fall to the table, grinding his teeth as if he was contemplating his thoughts. “I have an idea. But it’s big and you’re gonna laugh.”

“Okay. All the more reason why you should tell me.”

He took a deep breath, and then, he spit it out.

“I bought her a ring. An engagement ring.”

Your eyes widened and your lips broke into a huge smile. “No fucking way. Are you fucking kidding?”

“See? I knew you were gonna laugh at me.” He rolled his eyes and fell back into his seat, crossing his arms like a child.

“I’m not laughing at you. That’s amazing, Harrison. Oh, my God.”

“But?”

You stayed silent for a moment, figuring out a way to put it gently. “But… Audrey hates clichés.”

He closed his eyes in exasperation.

“Fuck.”

“No, hey. You can propose to her, but maybe don’t make it the main thing, you know.”

He sighed, rising to his feet with a small scowl on his face.

“Hey,” you said softly, “I’m so happy for you two. And she will be too.”

You exchanged smiles before he made his exit. You leaned against the back of the seat and looked out of the window to your right side, still smiling. You wondered if Mr. Morgan and Angela knew.

You got back to the crossword puzzle you put under your plate, munching on the bagel to fill your stomach and enjoying the faint Christmas music playing from the speakers. The waitress had just refilled your cup when someone slid into the booth across from you.

At first, you didn’t look up, assuming it was Harrison again, maybe realizing he’d forgotten something. But when you finally glanced up, you were met with a face you hadn’t expected.

“Morning,” the man said, his voice smooth and polite. It made you sit up just a little bit straighter.

“Uh, morning.” You smiled back.

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here alone,” he continued, leaning forward just slightly. “I’m Kurt. Kurt Caldwell.” He extended a hand across the table, his palm up.

You introduced yourself, putting your hand into his. You’d heard about Mr. Caldwell. They’d said he was a very kind and fair employer, someone who took care of his own. But after his son's death, he'd vanished from the public eye for a while.

For such a small town, there was sure a lot of accidents. Tragedies. On the brighter side, the number of of missing women cases dropped in the past few years, so that's that.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, just visiting,” you said with a smile but remained cautious. After all, he was a stranger. And you’re not one to underestimate the stranger danger rule. Not even in a small community like this.

“Really? We don’t have many visitors this time of year, Christmas tends to keep people close to home. You staying with family?”

“Friends,” you corrected.

“That’s nice. It’s always good to have people you can rely on during the holidays.”

You offered him another polite smile, unsure of what to say. He seemed harmless, but people randomly coming up to you were instantly weird to you. Welcome to a small town.

“You know, if you’re looking for something to do while you’re in town, I run a little truck stop just outside the main strip. Got a great diner there, too, and we’re always looking for friendly faces to stop by. First meal’s on me.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” you replied, laughing with him.

You pretended to get back to your puzzle, hoping he’d leave you alone, but before he could say anything else, the bell above the diner’s door jingled, and you heard your name.

You turned to see Mr. Morgan standing in the doorway, his presence commanding. He scanned the booth, his eyes landing on Kurt before flicking to you.

“Oh, hi.” You waved awkwardly at him as you watched him stride towards your table.

“Harrison forgot his gloves,” he told you, even though his gaze was locked on Kurt.

“Oh, right. I’ll text him.” You grabbed your phone, completely oblivious to the silent standoff happening between Mr. Morgan and Mr. Caldwell.

Mr. Caldwell stood, his smile losing some of its warmth. “Well, I should get going. It was nice to meet you, YN. Hope I’ll see you around.”

You gave him a polite nod and with that, he turned and walked out of the diner.

Mr. Morgan waited until the door closed behind him before he finally spoke.

“You okay?”

You hit send and looked up.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, brows furrowed.

“Just checking.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, grabbing the empty sugar packet on the table and crumpling it in his hand. “But next time, maybe stick to sitting with people you actually know.”

This time, his tone was firm, almost scolding. You blinked at him, taken aback by this side of him. Now that you thought about it, you had never seen him pissed. And you didn’t know how to react. Your muscle memory took over for you, feeling the need to get defensive.

“Okay… I wasn’t – he just sat down. I didn’t –”

“Finish your breakfast. I’ll drive you back.” He interrupted, glancing out the window one more time as he watched Kurt’s truck disappear down the road.

You weren’t sure if it was the way he was ordering you around, or the way his hand hovered over the small of your back as he led you out of the diner, or the darkness that spread across his face, but something was sending shivers down your spine.

That evening, it was the first time you touched yourself to the thought of Mr. Morgan. You started wearing more revealing clothes, nothing fancy, just simple shorts and tank tops that would just show your skin, even though it was literally freezing outside. Overtime, you got bolder, getting close to him when Harrison wasn’t looking, unnecessarily leaning over him or brushing against him with your ass. When it was your turn on the couch, you’d purposefully stay uncovered, hoping that the tight shorts would ride up your ass while you were sleeping, to bring a little diversity to his early-morning routines.

He was a smart man. He knew what you were doing. And unfortunately for you, he was resilient.

“You sure you aren’t cold?” he’d asked once as you mixed the batter for gingerbread cookies, leaning casually against the counter behind you. And when you turned around, you saw his eyes flick from your exposed legs to your face. He did exactly nothing to hide it.

“I’m sure.”

You gave him an innocent smile and returned your focus to the batter, smirking to yourself.

“It’s below freezing outside.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

“Exactly. Outside. That’s why we collect firewood, right?”

“Hmm.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he studied you. Or tried to intimidate you? Honestly, you had no idea. “Doesn’t really explain why you’ve been walking around dressed like it’s summer for the past week.”

You paused, holding the bowl against your ribcage as you turned to face him.

“Maybe I’m just trying to liven up this place. Bring some Miami energy to Iron Lake.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “Miami energy?” He repeated the words like they amused him, though his tone was dry. “Interesting choice.”

Your cheeks flushed and a shiver ran down your arms – and not from the cold. Maybe, just maybe, you should have kept your mouth shut. Harrison had told you that they’d moved from Florida. But you didn’t need to mention that part.

You were waiting for him to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stared at you, with that expression on his face that said that you were crossing a line. He made you too aware of your whole being – your skin, your lips, your eyes, everything was twitching or at least it felt like it was.

Gulping down the lump in your throat, trying as much as you could to make it unnoticeable, you turned your back to him again. He didn’t say anything more, and when you heard him walk away, you finally felt like you had space to breathe again. You hoped he at least checked you out one more time before leaving. Your cheeks still burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration, and your body ached with an unfulfilled desire that he seemed intent on ignoring.

But still. He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted you to believe. You just needed to figure out how to crack him.

Sometimes, less was more. So, the next evening, you decided to try something else. You’d packed a pair of thigh-high, cable-knit burgundy socks that you almost never wore – you found out quickly it was too impractical for everyday use. You thanked yourself for not selling them on Vinted, because now, they had a perfect use.

They clung perfectly to your legs, and you paired them with an over-sized sweater that was barely covering your thighs, leaving a teasing strip of skin visible when you moved. And that was the only thing you were relying on. Well, that and your sweater riding up when you’d stretch yourself up to hang the Christmas decorations.

You slid into your Birkenstocks and took a deep breath. Showtime.

You had been at the cabin alone, but you knew exactly when he was coming home. You’d timed it all perfectly, waiting until you knew he’d walk in and see you in the middle of something. Harrison wouldn’t have noticed the outfit, but Mr. Morgan noticed everything, even when he pretended he didn’t.

It was quiet as you set up for decorating, untangling the mess of Christmas lights while waiting. Any minute now. And then, you felt a gust of icy wind as Mr. Morgan made his entrance. You glanced over your shoulder, greeting him with a fleeting smile, pretending not to pay him too much attention.

“How was work?” you asked as you started to wrap the lights around the mantle, focusing on draping the string evenly.

“Average.” He said as he threw his car keys into the bowl by the door. “Did the cold finally get to you?”

You smirked to yourself, proud that you made unable to resist commenting on your clothes. First thing that came to his mind. Meaning the image of you in your usual shorts must've been lingering somewhere in his had. It had to be.

“Yeah, you were right. I wouldn’t want to spend Christmas in bed, on the cusp of dying,” you said, feigning defeat. “Where’s Harrison? He was supposed to help me.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t know.”

Well, you did. He was still at the tavern, because you told him you’d start at around nine. It was around six o’clock.

“Never mind." you said with a small shrug, turning to adjust a strand of lights. "At least I don’t have to listen to how everything's at the wrong angle.”

That earned a fait snort from him. His boots thudded against the floor as he crossed the room. “You need a hand?”

“No, thanks. But you’re welcome to supervise. You’re good at that.”

“Funny.”

“Is it?”

You reached for the next decoration – a thin garland of cranberries – and stretched up on your tiptoes to hook it around the nail, feeling the hem of your sweater ride up, baring the tops of your thighs. You could almost feel the moment he noticed by the way the silence in the room sharpened.

“I should’ve bought you some proper clothes for Christmas.”

Oh, my God. You couldn’t believe it worked.

“Really? And what would you consider proper, Mr. Morgan?”

You turned to face him, watching his eyes darken, his pupils dilate as his eyes flicked to your legs and then back to your face, his jaw tightening slightly. “Something warmer.”

“Warmer?” you echoed, glancing down at your cozy outfit. “I thought this was perfectly appropriate for decorating.”

“Appropriate for what, exactly?”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips quirking upward as you shrugged playfully. “For making the place feel festive.”

“Festive.” He repeated with a strong voice. “If you say so.”

You stepped closer, your fingers fiddling with a stray cranberry that had fallen into your hand. “You don’t approve?”

Oof. Well, go big or go home.

His posture shifted, straightening just enough to make him seem even taller, making you crane your neck to hold the eye contact. “I didn’t say that.”

A tiny victory. You nearly let your grin slip, but you had to hold it back. You still didn’t get what you wanted.

“Well, if you have any decorating tips, I’m all ears," you said casually, turning your attention back to the box of ornaments. You pulled out another string of lights and moved around the room.

You repeated the same tactics again and again. Sometimes, you bent down deliberately to give him a different angle as he ate his dinner, before retreating to the couch and doing something on his computer. Other times, you stretched a little too far to reach something, the edge of your sweater lifting again, revealing more skin.

The room was finally coming together, warm light casting shadows across the walls, the faint scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air. You collected the empty boxes and stray bits of ribbon scattered on the floor and stepped back to admire your work.

With everything in place, you decided to retreat to the bathroom for a well-earned shower. Stripping out of your sweater and socks, you paused with your hand on the faucet knob, another idea sparking in your mind.

If he wanted to keep his composure, he was going to have to work harder. You hadn't done all of this for nothing.

You grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around yourself before heading into the living room, where he was still locked in whatever he was doing on his laptop.

“Mr. Morgan?” you called, your voice intentionally soft.

“Yes?”

He glanced over his shoulder, and his brow immediately fell, his eyes roaming your body yet again.

“The shower isn’t working. You think you could take a look at it?”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes narrowing, trying to decipher your intentions. Shit, he was already onto you and you were scared you’d really scare him away. But then he rose to his feet and made his way to the bathroom. He eyed you suspiciously as he walked by you, but you just gave him an innocent smile. He disappeared into the bathroom, the faint creak of the old wooden door echoing through the cabin. You followed close behind, feeling the chill of the room raise goosebumps on your skin. The sound of him inspecting the faucet, twisting the knobs, testing the showerhead and eventually the sound of water filled the silence.

“It’s working fine. You probably didn’t turn the knob far enough.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

You stepped further into the cramped space, closing the door behind you quietly and leaning against it, nibbling on your lip.

He turned around, sighing as he was already aware of you caging him.

“YN,” he said, giving you a chance to back out. “What are you doing?”

He stepped closer to you, his sturdy figure towering over you. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, trying to not let your composure slip.

“Well, I thought maybe you could teach me how to fix it,” you shrugged your shoulders, the words stumbling out before you could really think them through.

“You don’t need to know how to fix it if it’s not broken.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the towel tighter, the only thing keeping you grounded, really. You could be here forever with this back and forth, words felt useless. So instead of saying anything, you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him. It wasn’t bold, not entirely; you lingered just long enough to make your intention clear, then pulled back.

You couldn’t read him, his eyes were closed and his lips still parted from the kiss before he finally spoke.

“This isn’t supposed to happen,” he said, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Why? Because it doesn’t fit into your routine?” You meant it as a joke, but this was really not the time.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away. But then he stepped just a little bit closer, his hands bracing on either side of the door behind you, caging you in.

“You can’t even imagine what I’m capable of.”

You probably couldn’t, but it didn’t even matter. You found him attractive, and you wanted him. It was as simple as that.

“You sure you want to take that risk? All because you can’t help but act on your impulses? Last chance. Walk away.”

But you didn’t and you let him know with a subtle shake of your head. And that was it. Whatever restraint he’d been holding onto snapped like a thread pulled too tight. His mouth was on yours in an instant, the kiss rough and urgent. His hand slid from your neck to your jaw, tilting your face just enough to deepen the kiss.

You’d never been with an older man, but man, was this something else. He wasn’t careful about it. Even though he didn’t strike you as the most confident guy at first sight, the kiss convinced you otherwise. It was a stark contrast to your previous boyfriends. They’d been clumsy and eager, but Mr. Morgan – Jim knew exactly what he wanted and how to take it.

You barely had time to catch your breath as his lips left yours, trailing along your jaw, his stubble scraping your skin in a way that made your knees weak. He didn’t waste any more time as his other hand slid up your inner thigh and beneath the towel, going straight to your pussy. You gasped as his finger found your wetness, fighting the urge to shy away.

In no time, his clothes were gone and the towel pooled on the floor. He gripped your hips firmly, turning your bodies around and guiding you under the steady stream of water pouring from the showerhead. The sensation of cool water against your skin was overshadowed by the way his hands roamed your body and pulled you against him, making you dig your nails into his biceps.

“Jim,” you gasped as his cock brushed against your cunt, but his hand shot up to your face, covering your mouth.

“No.” He growled. “You picked the wrong time to use that name.”

Your brows knit together in confusion. That name? What was that supposed to mean?

“Get on your knees.”

Without hesitation, you obeyed, sinking to your knees in front of him, your kneecaps digging into the wet tiles. He shifted his body so his broad frame was shielding you from the stream of water, making you aware of the cool air prickling your damp skin.

The droplets were cascading down his chest and over the taut lines of his stomach. Your eyes lifted from the scar on his left side to meet his, and for a moment, he just simply looked at you. Admired you. Then, with one hand cradling the back of your head and the other stroking his cock, he guided you closer.

You opened your mouth automatically, your lips almost wrapping around his head, but before you made a contact, he gripped your soaked hair and pulled you away, making you shriek.

“Did I tell you you could put your mouth on me?”

“No,” you said with a small voice.

“That’s right. So, let’s try this again. Who’s in control?”

“You are, Mr. Morgan.”

You felt your pussy throb from the way he was ordering you around. And for a split second, you were doubting yourself that you could handle it. What if he thought you were pathetic? What if he waited for you to fight back? What if he wanted you to be bratty?

“Hey, look at me,” he said, his voice softer than before, but it was still demanding. His thumb brushed along your shiny lips before continuing. “You’re beautiful. Don’t overthink this.”

Yeah, probably easy for him to say, but you nodded anyway.

“Stick your tongue out. Keep it out.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth wide and letting your tongue rest on your chin. He gripped your jaw again, holding you in place. His cock brushed lightly against your tongue, before letting go of your jaw and bringing his hand to the back of your neck, squeezing, as he guided you down his cock. Automatically, your hands shot up to grab onto his thighs.

“Now, if it gets too much, you tap my leg three times, okay?”

You nodded, the movement of your head with his cock in your mouth making him hiss.

“Show me.”

You tapped his thigh.

“Good girl.”

Your chest swelled with pride as he praised you. This was a whole another level of making you feel good, and you’d never guess it would be coming from your best friend’s father. And not only was he making you feel good, but he also gave you confidence, making you slide your mouth around his cock in a more steady rhythm with him still controlling the movements.

It was slow at first, but you felt that he was holding back, so when he went to pull your head back, you overpowered his strength and instead let his cock slide deep into your throat, making you gag while he simultaneously moaned at the unexpected feeling. He pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva and precum connecting your lips to the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered, as his palm wiped your chin. Well, more like spread the fluids over your lower jaw, before he returned his cock into your mouth and fucked it. He finally let go, hitting your throat over and over again, making you gag and cough around him, up until the point tears started sliding down your cheeks.

You were so close to tapping out, but before you could signal to him, he pulled out and leaned down, grabbing your jaw as he kissed your open mouth, tasting himself on you.

“Get up.”

You stumbled slightly as you got to your feet, your knees weak and sore from being in that position for so long. He didn’t give you a chance to steady yourself, grabbing your hips and spinning you around. Your back hit his chest as he guided you toward the tiled wall.

“Hands on the wall.”

As you did so, his hand trailed down your back, lingering over the curve of your ass before landing a sharp smack that made you gasp, and wow. You’d never have guessed that he’d be such a kinky motherfucker.

It’s not like you hadn’t had a guy slap your ass before, but this was just different. You remember being unable to get turned on when your sexual partner would spank you. You remember thinking maybe there was something wrong with you. It’s not like you didn’t like it or like it made you uncomfortable. You just hadn’t felt anything. It hadn’t hurt. It hadn’t sting. It had been like eating plain, salted chips. They taste good, but they don’t really get you excited.

But from Mr. Morgan, it burned, and it was the best feeling in the world. He skimmed his nails against the flesh of your butt, as if tracing the hand-print that was surely forming there. He placed kisses down your back until he was kissing your stinging skin. You shied away as you realized he was now kneeling behind you, but he quickly caught you by the creases where your thigh meets your abdomen, pulling you back to him.

“Spread your legs,�� he instructed yet again.

Your heart pounded, the position feeling unnatural, but despite that, you moved your feet apart, feeling the stickiness between your thighs. You flinched as his cold fingers made contact with your pussy, but quickly recovered. He buried his thumb between your pussy lips, parting them as he slid it from your hole to your clit, pressing down harder as he circled the sensitive bud.

Your whole body vibrated, the blood rushing through your body and into your throbbing clit. He kept flicking it with his finger, occasionally slowing down to pull the hood of your clit back to focus on the most innervated part of you. You arched your back, as he brushed over that spot, making your stomach tighten. Then he finally brought his fingers to your cunt, pushing in one, then two fingers. It made you mewl, the way he was carefully sliding them in and out, enjoying every ridge of your walls. You heard him sigh, feeling his hot breath bouncing off your ass. It made you realize how bad you wanted his mouth on your pussy.

And as if he read your thoughts, his fingers slid out of you and to your clit, as he replaced them with his tongue, flexing it and fucking you with it straight away. He was licking up your walls, the wet muscle prodding against them, making you moan. The finger still worked your clit, but when you felt him open his mouth wide and bury his face even further into your ass to get his tongue as far as he possibly could. It made you see galaxies.

When he felt you twitching against him, already trying to get away, albeit unintentionally, he circled both your thighs with his arm, trapping you against him. You were basically sitting on his face and now that his fingers left your clit, he slid his chin lower, his stubble scratching your skin as the tip of his tongue massaged your clit. His nose was buried in your wet hole now, his cheeks squished by your thighs, and you were scared you were going to suffocate him. Unfortunately, it was his fault and his fault only that you stopped caring as soon as you heard the squelching sounds of your pussy as his tongue kept delving into you. That’s what he did, he made you selfish. He was bringing you closer to the edge and the only thing you cared about was falling.

And with his tongue flicking against your clit, you soon felt the knot in your stomach tightening, until you let go. Your release poured out of you and he was catching it all on his tongue, licking everything up.

Once he got every drop, he stood to his full height, his arms encircling you. I made you feel safe, secured. One of his hands landed on your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple as he kissed along your neck and then your shoulder, waiting for you to fully come down. You let your head fall backwards against his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.

He smelled so good. Or maybe it was just the undetectable pheromones spreading through the air that sharpened every sense to its peak. You felt like a mess. Your hands itched to adjust your hair, to wipe at the moisture beading on your flushed skin, but you were too scared to move.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he pressed closer, his cock prodding at your cunt.

“Yes.”

And then he finally fucked you. Your back arched instinctively into him as he started thrusting, finding a steady rhythm. His hand slipped lower, tracing the line of your hip before dipping between your thighs again, spreading your pussy and grazing the nail of his finger over your clit. His hips moved harder and harder, the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other, his moans and your whimpers filled the room, the stream of water coming from the shower making a bad job at obscuring it. He was hitting that spot inside of you over and over again and combined with the sensation of his fingers on your clit and his teeth pressing against your shoulder as he licked the water from your skin made your knees buckle. He was going to leave a faint imprint, that’s for sure.

He was getting close too, or at least you thought so from the way he got louder and more high-pitched, fucking you faster. He wasn’t gentle about it. He wanted you to come hard around him, and it was working. You were getting closer and closer, and when he sank his teeth a little harder into your shoulder, not sure if it was intentional or in the heat of the moment, that name escaped your mouth on its own again.

“Jim–”

And in a snap of a finger, his hand shot up to your mouth, covering it and leaning your head back against his shoulder, his lips ghosting your ear.

“Dexter,” he said, his hand sliding down to your neck and lightly pressing against your throat. Your brain was mush, you didn’t know what he meant, your brows knitting in confusion as you tried to focus on what he just said. “Fucking say it.” He growled when you didn’t react, pinching your clit and giving you a particularly hard and deep thrust as he stopped him movements.

“Dexter,” you moaned immediately. You just wanted to be good for him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praised as he started fucking you again until you were coming around him. It made your whole body convulse. You hinged your hips to press against him and at the same time, to escape his wicked fingers. You brought your hand down to cover his on your pussy, thinking maybe it would bring you relieve from the overstimulation, but it did exactly nothing at all. You kept coming, coating his cock in your cum, making it easier for him to slide along your pussy walls, but harder for him to keep his cock from sliding all the way out. You were so slippery, your cunt clenching around him which brought him to his own edge, finally spilling himself inside of you.

Gradually, he slowed down until he eventually removed his cock from your pussy and freed your sensitive clit from his fingers. He did manage to slide them to your hole one last time, scooping up your mixed cum as he brought his hand in front your faces and admired it, his breath hot against the nape of your neck as he rubbed the juices between his fingers. You watched it slowly disappear under the running water before he let his arm fall to your hip, turning you around. He pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, breathing heavily, before opening them again, his eyelashes catching the drops of water from the shower.

“Next time, I’m fucking you in those socks.”

#dexter morgan x f!reader #dexter: request #dexter #dexter fandom #dexter fanfiction #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fanfiction #dexter morgan fluff #dexter morgan oneshot #dexter morgan x female!reader #dexter morgan x reader #dexter morgan smut #dexter morgan x female reader #dexter smut #best friend’s dad!dexter morgan #best friend’s dad au

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angelyuji · 4 months ago

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OKAY SO this one has been cooking in my noggin for a while. you’re dating ford and he lets bill possess him but bill fucking hates you and wants to destroy everything about the relationship so he makes ford do some noncon to you if ykwim 👀💦

RICYTP_O)(+*_&)*Y&T THIS IS SO HNNGGG

tw // noncon, somno, implied billford, bill cipher sucks, ford pines fluff at the beginning thoo

bill most defintely did not get the appeal about you. ford is sooo obsessed with you and he loves egging his bad behavior on, but at the same time, he didn't get why ford likes you so much.

you giggle, sitting on ford's lap, watching him journal his findings. "why write that in invisible ink? it seems pretty important."

he kisses your shoulder, "to keep important information out of the wrong hands." you hum in understanding. the two of you sit in silence, letting your hearts beat together.

"i don't get it." you had just left and bill had decided that it was the right time to question ford.

ford continued working as bill sat on his shoulder, "get what."

"them! your little," he waves his hands. "toy? plaything?"

"partner." ford interjects, annoyed. "they're my partner. i don't take kindly to anyone calling (y/n) names."

bill raises his hands in mock surrender, "fine. fine. i just don't see what you see, sixer." he shrugs.

"(y/n) is.... someone who understands me. they're patient, kind, open, and loyal to a fault." he laughs a little to himself and bill frowns, feeling a surge of jealousy. ford's voice was full of love, every word he speaks of you felt honest and true.

"whatever you say, fordsy. a warm hole is a warm hole" bill shrugs and disappears before ford can retort.

ford is gonna spend all night thinking of ways to convince bill about you and urethra🤓! he's got it!!

"would you like to meet them?" ford moves his queen, looking up to see bill's eye wide in surprise.

"you sure you want to introduce me to your "partner", my muse?" bill mocks, but ford only smiles, continuing the chess match. silence fills the room, but bill's interest in you won, "how would we do this?"

they'll decide to let bill posses ford and meet you, not tell you about bill of course. ford didn't want you to freak out and leave him and bill was happy to play along with ford's lies.

repetitive knocks wake you up from your sleep. you look over to your alarm clock, blearily reading 1:22 AM. "what the hell." you mumble, rubbing your eyes. the knocks don't stop and you're forced out of bed. you look through the peephole and see a very familiar face.

"gooooood morning, cutie!" his voice was loud, echoing through the empty street. you shush him and pull him inside.

"stanford, it's 2 in the morning. what're you doing here." you fight a yawn, trying to sound stern.

"baby, come on, is it a crime to want to see my angel?" he takes a seat at your dining table, looking around your home like it's brand new.

you raise an eyebrow at the new nicknames, "are you okay? you're acting... weird." ford grins, abnormally.

"i think you're just tired." he waves off your concern, "let me stay over, baby. we'll have some fun." his grin stretches across his face, unnaturally. he stalks towards you and you slowly back away.

"ford, i think you should go." your voice wavers as you point to the door.

"noooo, i don't think so." his arm snaps out, grabbing you by the throat. you choke, digging your nails into his hand, "this is the thing sixer was impressed by? you?!?" he laughs, loud and manic. "a weak, useless, human." he spits, anger coursing through bill's mind.

hes soooo sillyyy. you're gonna end up passing out from the lack of airrr and then his original goal was to kill you, but... i mean a warm hole is a warm hole.

you could feel yourself getting stretched, legs held above and pressed against your chest. you hear a familar voice grunting above you. "h-hurts..." you moan, eyes slowly opening. ford's wide smile comes into view.

"sixer was right, you're realll open." he grinds against you. you feel tears stream down your face. he grins, bending over and dragging his tongue up your face. he licked up your tears, giggling. "you'll never forget this face ever again."

afterwards, you're laying there unconscious and bill's like.... damn.... you're kinda fun :))) he gets ford now

#fun fact: i am watching bijuu mike's playthrough of class of 09 the flip side as im writing this.... its ass i fear #i was gonna add more but i decided not to sawry #minors dni #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #ford pines x reader #bill cipher x reader #implied billford #tw noncon #tw somno

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dadyscumslutprincess20 · 1 year ago

Text

Lost Love

(Small story I thought about doing until I write another request that I got, also be looking out I’m working on 4 request at a time then the rest at once💕)

Cha Hyun su x fem reader

Genre: Just a bit emotional

It’s been a year since you last saw Hyun su after trying his self into the military to keep the remaining survivors of Green Home safe , so we all would be able to saved and took to a shelter/camp that was meant for any survivors

Since then you lived with the regret of not telling him about the baby , both you and Hyun su moved in together in your first apartment at Green home , since you were a bit more social you made a few friends inside the building , but most of you time was spent with Hyun su

When the apocalypse started. Hyun su started to have serious noise bleeds , times where he would black out or there were even moments you felt like he want your Hyun su

After gathering with the remaining survivors you soon learned that Hyun su was a special case of the monsters that now roamed the city

After a while you found out you were pregnant, deciding it wasn’t the right time as you kept the pregnancy to yourself .. not knowing Hyun su would turn his self in the same night

Now here you were a year later with two beautiful children, a boy and a little girl , even though it’s been just a year they were already at the age of 12

Before giving birth to Cha Hee (son) and Cha Hui (girl) , you escaped from the shelter finding a small abandoned camper , the only joy out it was that it was two small rooms that had a full sized bed in both , a small kitchen and dining area that was in the middle and the driver seat that was locked right when you entered the camper

Your pregnancy was pretty easy we’re surprised you along the way , except that you felt your self changing as you started to hear a voice in your head , you belly barely as it looked like you were just bloated from a good meal or something, but you knew you were pregnant, the hardest part of the whole pregnancy was the birth , since you didn’t have any support, you ended up giving birth to the twins inside the camper in your small room , bring down on a spare dry towel you had to hold in your scrams as you gave birth to both Cha Hee and Ch Hui

After giving birth to the twins you noticed how much you’ve changed, your eyes had I slight hit of green with time making your neon eyes now look unnatural, you half grew a bit longer as you soon realized that you gave in to your desires , now becoming a monster but some how keeping it in control.. maybe it was because you had not one but two people to protect

After a few months after having Cha Hee and Cha Hui you soon realized that they weren’t exactly human either , as Cha Hee was born with bright blue eyes , Cha Hui was born with Green eyes

There was a few differences between the two as Cha Hee, he was a quite child , who could make a person go crazy after a certain amount of days soon resulting in their suicide or the death of everyone around them including them selves if you were lucky enough to stay on his good side he would use his touch to show your most happiest memories

Cha Hui was a bit different she was a cold child , always quietly analyzing others , but even though she seemed cold she was super nice once you got to know her , her touch could either set your ablaze as you scream in pain and agony or you could fall into a deep sleep that no one could wake you out of as you live out your deepest fears over and over again, but like her brother if your were no harm to her mother or Cha Hee she could show you your happiest memories ,you didn’t discover this until it happened in front of your eyes

After that you had Cha Hee and Cha Hui to keep on a special pair of gloves that were handmade by you, it made you feel a bit more safe if no one would discover there powers then any one would assume their normal kids , the only thing that would make any one realize their twins it their dark black hair that resembles Cha Hyun Su’s

As you laid in your bed as you start to realize that it’s been quite for a while now , thinking that the the twins were in bed as you stand to your feet , slowly walking out of your room and you peek into their room that was located on the right of yours

Seeing that the room was empty as you start to become slightly worried , heading for the kitchen finning area to see that they weren’t there either

‘Where are they’ the voice in stead your head says as you frantically search the camper a second time just to make sure , but when you saw they weren’t there you quickly open the doors to the camper heading down the three small steps as you head out the door looking left and right frantically as you run straight heading down the road as you call out both Cha Hee and Cha Hui’s names

Not getting a response from neither of your babies as you start to panic thinking of all the possible things that could have happened to them

What if they ran into humans? Or worse the military? , as your mind starts to cloud with questions that only made you panic more , you soon came to a hault as you heard a few giggles , looking around the area as you notice a small grader dome

Taking a small breathe in and out as you head inside the small dome , eyeing scanning around the flowers that bloomed with life , causing you to feel a bit calm but still worrying for you babies

After a while of walking down the small trail you come to a stop , as you feel your body tense up , confusion shown in your eyes

There was Cha Hee and Cha Hui.. but they weren’t alone , there stood Hyun su with a girl that seemed to be around the age of 14 as she talked to Cha Hui who had a small smile on her face , it took a while before Cha Hyun su noticed your presence , eyes locking with your as Ah-yo turned to see why Hyun su was so quite , eyes slowly following his as they land on you soon catching the attention of the twins

“MOMMY” Cha Hee screams out with joy as he runs toward you wrapping his arms around your waist with a smile

“Mom , look we made a new friend” Cha Hee says as pulls away from the hug grabbing a hold of your hand as he pulls you towards Hyun su , Ah-yi and Cha Hui as Cha Hui soon stand beside you wrapping her arms around you as she looks at Ah-hi and Hyun su

“This is Ah-yi and Hyun su” Cha Hee says as he points to both Ah-yi and Hyun su

“And this is our mom , Reader” Cha Hui says as she tightens her hold eyes still watching Ah-yi and Hyun su who eyes now look at you with pure shock

“M-Mom…” Hyun su says as his head hangs low , Ah- yi noticing the hurt in his voice , after a few seconds his head slowly rises eyes now shining blue as he gives you a cold stare

“ After everything we done for you.. to keep you safe , and you have some assholes child , correction children” Hyun su says eyes staring daggers in to yours as you feel a shiver flow down your spine

“I-It’s not like that” You reply as you look down down your feet not able to look him in the eye

“Wait..you know her” Ah-yo says as she looks between you and Hyun su in confusion

“I do actually in fact she’s our dear girlfriend, well was it seems” Hyun su says eyes now looking both at you , Cha Hee and Cha Hui

“I didn’t cheat okay.. I just..” you say looking back in to Hyun Su’s eyes tears now threading to fall

“I don’t know how to tell you and it was to late.. you let us alone” you managed to choke out as tears start to flow, Shock showing on Hyun Su’s face as he looks between Cha Hee and Cha Hui

“T-Their .. mine” Hyun su says eyes slowing turning to normal as he slowly falls to his knees , tears falsify flowing down his face as he looks at you with a sorry expression

“I-I didn’t mean to .. I-I just wanted to keep you safe..I..” before he could finish his sentence Cha Hee warped his in a warm hug as Cha Hui looks him in his teary eyes

“So .. your our father” Cha Hui says as her green eyes watches Hyu su closely as he slowly nods his head in agreement, slowly walking towards Hyun su as she slowly wraps her arms around him pulling him and Cha Hee in a hug

“I had a weird feeling .. it explains why we were okay with you keeping us company” Cha Hee says with apart smile

After a while of hugging , Hyun su informs you on Ah-yi and how he has been taking care of her since she was pretty much born , listening as Hyun su talks about Ah-yi like a proud father , which he was, he starts to feel guilty about missing his own kids growing up deciding to keep not only Ah-yo but you and both Cha Hee and Cha Hui close and safe

#black reader #fem reader #female reader #sweet home #sweet home 2 #sweet home imagines #x reader #cha hyun soo #cha hyunsu #cha hyun su x reader #sweethomefanfic #sweet home x reader #sweet home fanfic #kdrama x reader

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icallhimjoey · 8 months ago

Note

bookstore joe hits different and i want to be hit once more right across the face pretty please

im sorry to the girls who arent into bookstore joe and im very not sorry to the girls who are into bookstore joe - enjoy babes! Wordcount: 2.4K

---

I Want To Hold Your Hand

When Joe walked in just after three, he greeted Anne who was stood behind the counter, doing some till work, and he got a small grunt in reply.

Standard. Made him smile. No sign of you, though.

Joe looked, craned his neck, but every corner of the store was empty. You were probably doing something in the back. He’d see you in a second.

Like always, he found a book, found a seat, and settled in for at least an hour of reading. He had the time today. Time to sit. Time to read. To soak up the atmosphere. To maybe kiss you again, if he was lucky. Time to notice how Anne was being more quiet than usual. To see how she was helping customers in a voice so unnatural to her own, it kind of freaked him out a little. To see her disappear into the back and come out back on her own, and...

Where were you?

He’d kissed you a few days ago. Kissed you. And now, something felt... weird. Like something was missing.

It was nearing in on 4PM and Anne hadn’t yet told him to fuck off, or whatever, so he knew something was off.

It was quiet in the store when Joe spoke up and asked, “Hey, Anne... am I going insane, or–”

“It’s your fault.” she was quick to cut him off, not even looking up from her task.

Joe frowned. What had he done?

“What have I done?”

Anne sighed and gestured a vague hand at him as she said, “Just your mere existence.” like it was obvious.

Joe thought back to all of your recent interactions. Your granddad had sadly passed away just over two weeks ago. Last week he tried cheering you up by showing you some pictures from the shoot you allowed him to do in the store. He’d kissed you then. The funeral had happened, and Anne had let Joe help out behind the till for a second and... now, you were... hiding?

From him?!

Surely not.

That was going to make this plan of sneaking another kiss absolutely impossible.

Unacceptable.

Anne watched Joe go through every single thing he’d done or said over the past few days that could’ve upset you, and then begrudgingly sighed.

“You’re such an idiot.” Anne said, before nodding her head towards the door that read personnel - the same door Joe had walked through ten seconds into his first ever visit.

Joe didn’t need telling twice.

When he stepped into the breakroom, he wasn’t prepared for how he found you.

You were sat at the table, buried in your laptop, one leg up on the chair, chin resting on your knee, and it was obvious you’d been crying. No matter how sweetly you smiled at the sight of him, it was obvious. Your face still eyed somewhat blotchy, eyes void of make-up and the delicate skin around them coloured red.

“Hey,” you didn’t seem surprised at the sight of him, at the fact that he’d just walked right into a room he technically wasn’t really allowed to be in.

“Hey, you– I’m sorry, you weren’t in the store, Anne said I could–... are you all right?”

Your smile grew as you nodded.

“Yea, sorry. Something, happened... earlier, it’s nothing,” you were quick to wave a hand, dismissing whatever had gotten you to hide in the back entirely. “I’m okay. How are you?”

Joe didn’t believe you. Didn’t buy it for a second. He felt like he should, because it felt like it was polite to take you for your word, but he couldn’t help the suspicious narrowing of his eyes.

“What happened?”

“Well, nothing, really. I overreacted to something and–”

“To what?” Joe interrupted, and immediately apologised. “Sorry, I... I’m sorry, I just...”

He just, what? If Joe knew, he would’ve told you, but it was not that long ago that Joe found you crying in a closed store and this felt oddly similar.

He didn’t like you upset.

Made him want to fix it.

“I promise I’m okay, just... it was for the best for me to not face any customers for a second, and I had to do some administrative work anyway, so...”

Joe’s eyes fell on your laptop as you gestured at it, and then he saw what was next to it.

He recognised it instantly.

The book you’d never sell.

Was it insane to think that he knew something was missing in the storefront? That he’d subconsciously noticed that it wasn’t in its spot? On the shelf? Where it always sat?

Probably was.

“Oh, um...” you saw Joe’d noticed and laid a flat palm on the leather-bound cover. “Yea, this was,” you had to stop to swallow.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Joe quickly decided. He didn’t want to make you start crying again. He wanted exactly the opposite, actually.

“No, it’s not–” you cleared your throat and sat up straight. You didn’t want to get emotional again over such a silly thing. “It’s Anne. She sat me down here and refuses to let me do anything else.”

You used her as you excuse. You weren’t lying; Anne really had said that you could stay in the breakroom for the rest of the day. She’d man the front on her own fine. Would find you with questions but then would tell you everything was going okay and leave you on your own again. But she wasn’t keeping you there. You were keeping you there.

“Ah. Can’t piss off Anne, can we?” Joe smirked slightly.

“I think we piss off Anne all the time,” you laughed, and it broke the tension a little.

Joe awkwardly stood in the middle of the breakroom and you were sort of glad he was there, but you wished you would’ve just been in the storefront with him. That you would’ve gotten to see his face as he’d walked in. As he’d sat down with his book. As he’d crossed his legs and let his head rest in his palm of which the elbow pushed into the armrest.

Joe was still staring at where your hand was placed, and now that you couldn’t seem to move your hand away from the big book of fairytales and folklore your granddad used to read you stories from, it felt only fair to explain why you’d gotten upset earlier that day.

“Someone tried to buy it.”

It was so stupid, because, before, when someone would climb up a ladder and find it, you would smile and just tell them, “No sorry, that one belongs to the store, I’m afraid.” and calmly take it from their hands to put it back.

Where your granddad used to make you reach for it when you were little.

Where your mother would pluck you from a ladder and scold her father for making you climb up so high.

Where it lived.

Where it had always lived.

It had never been a problem before. People were allowed to touch it. To read it. To ask to buy it. You’d just tell them no, and that would be the end of it.

Not today, though.

“They caused a bit of a scene when I said they couldn’t.”

You smiled as you said it, but Joe saw right through it.

“They were right though. Why keep a book in a bookstore when it’s not for sale? It’s right in between all of the books that are... I should just, I don’t know. Keep it some place else, I guess.”

“Of course not.” Joe reacted matter-of-factly.

You’d just gone through something extremely traumatic, were still going through something extremely traumatic, and why would you listen to someone who didn’t know? Who didn’t understand?

Joe thought he barely even understood, but he understood this.

He understood the blotchy skin. He understood Anne banning you from your own store for the rest of the day. He understood why you weren’t moving your hand from your grandfather’s book that he used to read you your favourite story from.

“I hope this doesn’t sound insensitive, but... I kind of wish I’d have been here when that happened.”

Not so that he could be the hero. Not so that he could step in and tell them to maybe just accept what the store owner was telling them.

“I would’ve loved to see Anne’s face.”

That made you chuckle. Anne really was your personal guard dog, as so it turned out.

“It was a pretty great face,” you recalled, smiling to yourself. God, you really lucked out with her.

“Store’s fairly empty now, though...” Joe pointed a casual thumb over his shoulder, and you looked at the door to where Anne still was manning the front.

You took a deep breath and grimaced a little, “Yea, I know... but, I kind of... I have some things I can finish here,” you pulled your laptop towards you. “And we’re nearly closing, anyway, so...”

You had already decided this was going to be the place where you would do all of your work today, and didn’t really want to come out of hiding. You’d do that after Anne would lock up. When there wouldn’t be any chance of the bell above the door jolting you back into your anxiety.

Joe thought for a moment. Looked at you, your laptop, your grandfather’s book, and...

“Would you mind some silent company?”

That one other time he had found you all fragile and up in your emotions, he’d just sat down right next to you, started reading a book in silence, and it had worked. He kind of wanted to give it another go. See if it would also work a second time.

“I–...” you faltered and looked at the wooden chairs around the table you were sat at. “These aren’t half as comfortable as the ones out front.”

“I asked, would you mind it?” Joe let his eyes twinkle, lips almost smiling. It made you drop your shoulders a bit as you relaxed at the idea of a bit of Joe in the break room, just for your comfort.

“No, I wouldn’t mind it.” you copied his tone, and Joe’s almost-smile turned into a beaming one.

“Okay, one second.” Joe said, slapping the doorframe as he passed through it, and you heard how he rushed his steps.

“Not my fault!” you heard Joe call out to Anne.

“Absolutely your fault,” Anne calmly replied.

“Not my mere existence!”

“Just your face then.”

Joe jogged back into the breakroom with a book in hands and pulled out the chair opposite you. He sat down, found his page and gave you a last sneaky little look over your laptop screen.

Then, just like before, he offered you his hand.

His hand.

Joe laid his arm across the table, wrist up, palm open, with fingers just shy of touching your laptop.

You just looked at it a moment.

Joe didn’t need to comfort you the way he had done that day, in the store, when all you could do was think about your grandfather and cry at his memories and the fact that there wouldn’t be new ones made.

A customer hadn’t been very kind to you today about something you felt sensitive about, and over an hour had passed already. You were fine.

But the gesture was sweet. Joe offered his hand for holding and even though it wasn’t needed, necessarily, it was still a nice gesture.

Kind.

Joe was so sweet. So kind. Soft and gentle and lovely.

You remembered how nice the distraction of playing fingers had been. How it had calmed you down enough for you to reveal the source of your hurt that day.

“Come on,” Joe then softly said, not unkindly, and you made eye-contact for a second. If he wasn’t going to be able to kiss you today, he could still try for the next best thing.

“I want to hold your hand.”

Just like that, it all shifted from a comforting gesture that was meant to soothe you to just a thing Joe wanted for himself. It was a bit silly how that made it easier to give in.

You reached a hand over and let the tips of your fingers touch the warm skin of his palm before they spread out and found a way to hold onto Joe’s closing fingers. They curled together best they could in their position, and when you chanced another glance at Joe, you saw the faintest hint of a smile across his face as his eyes had found his page again.

You got back to your work on your laptop, and whilst it definitely was a lot trickier to work down your to do list with one hand, it was also definitely a lot more gratifying.

You sat in the breakroom together like that until you could hear Anne carry the A-frame into the store, and where before you’d wished the day had just been over already, you kind of wished you’d get at least another five minutes with Joe. All right. Maybe ten.

Joe stayed put until you closed your laptop.

Joe stayed put until you got up to go back out front.

And then Joe stayed put until you walked back into the breakroom to pick up your grandfathers big leather bound book; the one book you’d never sell.

Joe watched you place it back where it belonged.

Back on its shelf where Joe remembered finding it after your grandfather asked him to go fetch him something from up high.

“Thank you.” you said looking down from you position up on a ladder, and Joe just smiled.

“Thank you.” Joe said in return, holding up the book he’d been reading before putting it down on his little ledge where he kept them.

“Thank me.” Anne dryly said, mostly to herself, from where she was doing the till.

“No.” Joe gave Anne the same smile he’d given you, and made you giggle as he said goodbye and left the store with a small wave.

“Thank you Anne,” you made a point to say it, because Anne really had been the star of the show today.

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x Y/N #joe quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #bookstore!joe #like a poem #i want to hold your hand

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gingeralecranberry · 1 month ago

Text

CHAPTER 3

𝟐-𝟑 ; 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫

I FEEL NOTHING

☺︎ cw:

gojo satoru is still a menace, maybe ooc?, this chapter is pretty tame it's kind of just following the motions for once strangely enough, gojo satoru is a lovesick fool, megumi fushiguro remains an edgy teen, itadori yuji is like the only normal one here, yaga as adoptive family teehee, canon typical violence, yuji gets his ass handed to him momentarily, yuji is quickly proving to be the favorite child???

‘That old dude’s making cute things!’

Perhaps it might have brought someone else comfort but the strange, grumpy, tall, and undoubtedly stronger-looking man hunched over a personal felting project didn’t help with the anxious pounding in Itadori’s chest. Especially not with the creepy, candlelit ambience.

Much like the rest of the campus, the principal’s office was extremely traditional looking. From the same dark wood framing the same off-white walls, human-sized calligraphy talisman, tatami mats, and sliding shoji doors, the interior office matched the exterior building.

Despite wearing a uniform nearly identical to Gojo’s, the two sorcerers couldn’t give off energies any more different. With his lanky build and messy hair, not to mention his childish attitude, it was difficult to take Satoru seriously. Yaga, on the other hand, nonverbally demanded respect from everyone in the room. His eyes were obscured by the orange tint of his sunglasses, but Yuji could still feel the intense glare shifting between the three men entering the room. His jaw was set in a stern frown, goatee only adding to his commanding aura. His booming voice radiated authority, snapping the teen out of his momentary trance.

“Satoru,” he called, abruptly setting aside his tools, “I thought the day may never come.”

A tense moment of silence passed before the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile that seemed a little unnatural on his tense features.

“...you’re here a minute early.”

The younger man frowned, upturning his nose indignantly, “Haha, laugh it up while you can, old man. Be glad I didn’t have anything more important to do.”

Having mentored him for so long, it was naturally (name)’s instinct to correct him. “Respect your elders, you big baby.” Two calloused fingers pinched on the white haired sorcerer’s earlobe, tugging downward, “I might be the one who dragged you here on time, but he’s still your boss.”

Gojo swatted his hand away with an even deeper frown, making a noise not all that different from a wounded animal while he sulked.

Biting back an unprofessional smile, the principal cleared his throat. The hair on the back of Yuji’s neck stood up as the man’s orange lenses locked with his eyes, “That’s the boy?”

“Yeah,” (surname) hummed, crossing his arms against his chest, “Do me a favor and go easy on him.”

Taking a momentary break from his brooding, Satoru perked up, pausing to take a look at the back of (name)’s head.

Instead of acknowledging how out of character it was for the man to request anything, attention was directed back at Yuji. In turn, however, it felt like the boy’s fight or flight activated…but in a strange non-confrontational way? Much like he did everything else, his instincts told him to run into things head first.

He gave a respectful ninety-degree bow, raising his voice, “Itadori Yuji! I’m into girls like Jennifer Lawrence! Pleasure to meet you!”

“...”

“Ahem-”

Quietly, trying to stifle a surprised laugh, (name) tried to cough discreetly into his hand. Gojo, on the other hand, made no attempt to hide his amusement, a devilish grin rising onto his previously pouty expression. Thankfully, our poor student remained completely oblivious.

Unwilling to let two immature special grades interrupt his interview, Yaga’s voice sliced through the tense silence without difficulty, “What did you come here for?”

With the innocence of a child, Itadori lifted his head. Clearly confused, he gave an equally confused answer, “...an interview…?”

Taking this as his queue, the older of the two “immature special grades” made his way off to the side of the room to take a backseat to the principal’s teaching shenanigans. He made a motion with his neck to his former student, trying to get him to follow suit.

Masamichi Yaga, the towering presence he was, stood tall as he asked his next question. “But why Jujutsu Tech?”

Still unsure of the deeper meaning behind any of his questions, Yuji sheepishly gave an answer that was equally as straightforward as his first, “To learn jujutsu…?”

(name) turned back to look at Satoru, only to find the idiot still standing in the middle of the room.

“I mean beyond that,” Yaga continued, “What do you hope to find once you’ve studied curses and learned how to exorcise them?”

Hastily, the special grade backtracked, flicking the younger one on the forehead, prompting a quiet, ‘ow!’

“Well, I mean…” the teenager scratched his head, standing up fully from his previous bow, “I’m going to collect the fingers of Sukuna. It’s dangerous to leave them as is.”

(surname)’s hands made a reappearance, tugging on his stubborn coworker’s bony wrist as he dragged a reluctant Satoru off to the side of the room. Of course, this didn’t go without some auditory protest.

Yaga crossed his burly arms over his chest, frowning, “Why?”

Yuji blinked.

“People you’ll never know die everyday due to crimes, accidents, and diseases in the natural course of life.” He tilted his head to the side in an effort to provoke, “But you’re telling me you can’t overlook it when that death is caused by a curse?”

Itadori opened his mouth, wrangling for an answer in his surprise. “It was someone’s dying wish,” he countered, “I don’t care about the details. I just want to save people!”

Yaga’s frown curled into a grimace, “A dying wish?” His nose crinkled with disdain as he lowered his chin, “You’re saying you’ll fight curses because someone else told you to?”

“...”

With the lack of a clear response, the principal raised his hand, pointing a finger at the student in question, “You fail!”

The low thrum of cursed energy pulsed through the air only for a few seconds before trickling into the body of one of Yaga’s older cursed corpses. It’s mint green body twitched, beady eyes gradually gaining a glimmering sheen of life.

Cathy arose, teeth gnashing against one another, antsy little mitts poised and ready to strike.

“Those weren’t dolls?!”

The stuffed animal bounced back and forth, alternating feet with a wicked giggle.

“Cursed corpses,” Yaga’s arm fell back to his side, his own smile gracing his normally stoic features, “They’re dolls infused with my curse.”

(surname) squeezed his eyes shut to avoid looking at the impending strike.

Cathy lunged, fists first, at the stunned Itadori aiming straight for the gut. Even in his shock, the vessel managed to whip his backpack off his shoulder and use it as an impromptu brace for his stomach. Still, despite the stuffed fist’s cushioned landing, he was sent sprawling backwards into one of the room’s many drywall pillars.

“Ugh-”

The older of the two bystanders sucked in sharply through his teeth, finally peeling his eyes open to peer at the damage. The pillar cracked with the brunt weight of the blow, bent into a subtle v shape. On the other hand, Gojo shook his head, his usual carefree smile back across his cheeks again. “Ooh, that couldn’t have felt good.”

Itadori inhaled through his chest, breathing a little labored after having the wind knocked out of him, “Is that… really just a doll?”

Completely ignoring his question, Yaga clenched his hand into a fist, “A person’s true nature reveals itself during a crisis,” he brought it in front of his chest in a swift motion, “I’ll keep attacking you until I get an acceptable answer!”

He was completely unaware of when he’d gotten so swept up in the encounter, but Gojo placed a hand on his mentor’s shoulder, “Hey… hey!”

(name) blinked a few times, casting over a glance, “What?”

Yuji grit his teeth, hands balling up as tightly as humanly possible, “Look man, it wasn’t just ‘someone else’,” He burst forth from his previous nook in the pillar, “It was a family member’s dying wish!”

He landed a brutal punch straight to Cathy’s gut, sending the mint green terror bouncing off the walls. The shockwave rippled throughout the room, only making the presence of a second person’s cursed energy more apparent.

“Your binding vow thingy, you’re starting to siphon some of my infinity,” Satoru noted matter-of-factly. He tacked on an amused chortle, “Don’t tell me you’re actually getting this worked up about a student interview.”

“A family member is still, ‘someone else’,” Yaga quipped, crossing his arms once again.

The pink-haired vessel watched with calculated interest as the round sack of fluff flew around the room, clenching his jaw as he noted, ‘Right, it’s a doll… It doesn’t get hurt or frightened.’

“A jujutsu sorcerer is constantly facing death, and not just their own,” Yaga added, trying to drive his point home. “Sometimes, you must ignore those murdered by a curse to rend the flesh from it. It’s an unpleasant job, you have to be a little crazy and highly motivated to handle it. You’d do that because someone else told you to?” A dry huff resounded from the principal’s throat, “Don’t make me laugh! It’d be more believable if you told me you were doing this to postpone your execution!”

“Screw you!” the teen cursed, “I-”

(name) gritted his teeth, “Shut up, this is different.” As quickly as the balloon of cursed energy expanded, it shrunk. “He doesn’t know anything about sorcery. “

Gojo leaned in impossibly close to the other bystander, “So you are? Don’t tell me you’re going all soft on me, Sensei.”

Callously, the older man taunted, “Are you going to blame your grandfather when you’re killed by a curse, too?!”

Itadori completely stopped in his tracks, eyes widening as he stared at Yaga in disbelief. His jaw hung open, momentarily left to catch flies. The room felt too still and far too quiet for a moment.

“Don’t act like you don’t hate conscripting child soldiers as much as I do, Satoru,” (surname) murmured, staring ahead, “They’ve got enough on their plates, kid’s already worrying about dying in a few years.”

Satoru didn’t answer.

Finally, Yuji swallowed a hunk of spit down his dry throat, “You say some pretty damn harsh things, old man.”

The principal didn’t bend. He willingly engaged in a staredown with his prospective student, giving a flippant, “Education is making people realize things.”

Ever ready to engage, Itadori opened his mouth again to voice a rebuttal, “I’m not really-”

‘WHAM!’

Having been all but forgotten in the heat of the conversation, Cathy had managed to plant a devastating sucker punch straight to the interviewee’s face.

“...Whatever, sorry to bring it to such a dark place,” the former teacher huffed, brushing any stray hairs from his face, “I’ll keep things in check.”

“Nah, you don’t need to apologize,” Gojo corrected, a smaller smile on his lips, “The system needs some reworking; why else do you think I would’ve picked up a teaching job?”

“...”

“It’s not easy to imagine how you’ll feel on the verge of death. However, I can say one thing for certain,” Yaga’s voice boomed, “At the rate you’re going, you could end up cursing your beloved grandfather. Jujutsu sorcerers never die without regret.”

“...”

“I’ll ask you once more, why have you come here to Jujutsu Tech?”

The thoughts in Itadori’s mind raged like a typhoon, whipping and colliding with one another each and every second.

‘Why had he come to jujutsu tech?’

‘What reason did he have to sacrifice everything to fight curses?’

‘Why him?’

Yet, in a split second, his thoughts converged into an answer.

Cathy, having been on standby, readied its fists for yet another easy mark.

‘I was always better than most in sports and in fights… but never once did I think “This is something only I can do.”’

With the same evil little cackle, the cursed corpse launched itself from its standing point next to its master, hands outstretched and ready to connect.

But they never did.

With a new determination and courage shining in his sickeningly sweet, honey-toned amber eyes, Itadori faced yaga once again. His arms ready, but instead of attempting to land another punch, he waited for the monstrosity to come to him.

It landed against his chest with a resounding ‘THUD!’. Before it could reel back for another hit, however, his open arms snapped shut like a bear trap, tightening like a vice around what would’ve been the curse’s neck.

“Consuming Sukuna is something only I can do.”

Behind his spectacles, Yaga’s eyes seemed to soften.

Kneeled, close to the ground, Cathy wrenched its body around in an attempt to escape the prison it found itself in. Yuji, on the other hand, remained steadfast. “If I managed to escape my death sentence and ran away from this responsibility, I’d be there, eating food, taking a bath, reading manga… But the moment I stopped to think, I’d go, ‘Oh, I bet someone’s dying because of Sukuna right now’, and I’d become depressed.”

The principal looked at him, impassive.

“‘That doesn’t involve me. It’s not my fault…’” The same brown eyes hardened with an inexplicable anger, “You expect me to just tell myself that? I refuse to do that!”

His hands trembled as his forearms pressed impossibly further into the stuffed animal’s nonexistent stuffed throat, “I don’t know how I’ll feel when I’m dying, but I don’t want to regret the way I lived!”

“...”

The boy’s words reverberated around the room as all three adults stood in silence.

“...”

“Satoru.”

The teacher perked up.

“Show him to the dorm, explain the security and everything else to him too.”

With a smile, the principal offers the crouched teen a hand, “You pass, welcome to Jujutsu Tech.”

Yuji’s face lights up, arms going lax as a brilliant smile begins to cross his cheeks.

Cathy, of course, doesn’t seem to share the same sentiments.

“Gather.”

With a flick of the sorcerer’s wrist, the squirming corpse falls silent again, a few strandlike pieces of cursed energy seemingly pulled from the strange bald spot on its head.

“Ah,”

“Yeah, you forgot to release your technique again, geezer.”

“Wow, this place is huge!”

The overeager boy zipped around the large, empty room. Unlike the rest of the campus, it wasn’t… as traditional looking? That wasn’t to say that it wasn’t traditional looking. It had the same basic structure as the rest of the buildings on campus, but the full-length glass window gave it a touch of modernity.

The room itself was basic, bare bones. There wasn’t much to look at in terms of furniture and even less to look at in terms of decor. There was a bed frame, a desk, a rolling desk chair, and a wardrobe. Of course, there was a functioning AC and a hanging light, but those didn’t exactly count as furniture.

“All the second and third-years are out at the moment, but you’ll meet them soon enough. There aren’t many of them.”

Leaning on a tall stack of boxes containing all of Itadori’s worldly belongings, Gojo watched the boy bounce around the room. There was a strange sense of glee and life the boy carried with him everywhere. Happiness, joy, and excitement were things the Jujutsu world lacked. So, in short, it was nice to see it up close every now and then.

Comedically, the boy opened his own wardrobe to shout “Anybody hooomeee?!”

Almost imperceptibly, the white-haired sorcerer’s smile grew just a little bit. “You know, there’s really no reason for you to fight, is there?”

The teen, who had been taping up his favorite Jennifer Lawrence poster, paused to turn back to the other man supervising him.

He raised a finger, as he characteristically did when he was speaking, “Fushiguro and I could retrieve Sukuna’s fingers… You could just wait here.”

“It’s fine!” Itadori vehemently shook his head, smoothing out any potential wrinkles in the bathing suit-clad woman on the paper, “I said I’d do it, and I’m doing it!”

However as another moment passed, it seemed he was rethinking his statement, “Though, lazing around…” his thoughts drifted, eyes narrowing as he pictured less than battle-worthy version of his classmate sticking his head through the door, “...while Fushiguro came in all beat up to bring me a finger would be a funny sight…”

Gojo hummed, knowingly, “That’s true.” As quickly as he indulged the boy though, he swiftly shifted gear, “Well, I know there’s no way in hell you’re not gonna fight.”

“Wh- Hey!” The student protested, springing up from the bed to point an accusatory finger, “You were testing me?!”

Before he could launch into any further arguments, his teacher seemingly materialized a few inches away from his face out of thin air. The finger he was previously waving around was held up in front of Itadori’s face.

“Ah…”

An awkward amount of time went by before Gojo said anything else, “If they were that easy to find, we would’ve found them already.”

Yuji stared back at him, just as confused as he was previously.

Satoru pivoted on his foot, “Some have a presence that’s overwhelming, some keep very quiet… others have already been absorbed by a cursed spirit.” He slammed his fist into his other open palm, “There’s nothing more troublesome when it comes to searching for them.”

Itadori cocked his head to the side.

“But now we have you!”

The teacher clapped his hands together excitedly, whirling to look back at the other person in the room. “You see, the Sukuna within you will tell us where the fingers are to try and regain his power.” Very happily, he clasped his hands together, “You’re both a vessel and locator, our very own radar!”

“...?”

Gesturing to the door, Satoru continued, “That’s how I know we won’t get anywhere without you in the field.”

Walking through the door his teacher had so kindly opened for him, Itadori scratched his chin. “You think he’s going to be that nice?”

Closing the door behind him, Gojo dismissed him with a wave of the hand, “I think we can come to a win-win agreement here.”

As the two traversed down the hallway of student dorms, another door creaked open one room over.

“...You’re next door?”

Fushiguro, despite still not being in the best shape, looked to be doing significantly better. Instead of virtually covering every square inch of his body, the bandages and remaining wounds were a lot fewer and further inbetween courtesy Shoko’s technique. With his tousled hair, deep eyebags, and messy pajamas, it was obvious he’d just crawled out of his bed.

“Oh, Fushiguro!” Itadori smiled, raising yet another energetic thumbs up, “You look like you’re doing well now!”

Despite being more than cordial and friendly in his opening, Megumi completely ignored his new classmate to talk one on one with Gojo, “There were plenty of other rooms, weren’t there?”

“But isn’t livelier better?” Satoru shrugged, gesturing to Itadori’s room, “I thought it’d be good for–”

Fushiguro cut him off with a scowl, “Classes and missions are enough, this was an unwelcome favor.”

While being ignored, Yuji took the opportunity to peek past the other teen’s shoulder and into his own dorm. His eyes widened, announcing, “Wow, it’s so organized!”

Suddenly deciding to acknowledge his presence, Fushiguro slammed the door shut on Itadori’s head, “I just said you’re unwelcome!”

“Erk!”

“Maybe try to be a little bit more delicate around the head.”

The three bickering men turned their heads back to the familiar voice coming from the end of the hall.

(name) approached with his hands in his pockets, brushing shoulders with Satoru before closing in on the dorm door. Gently pressing his hands to the side of Yuji’s skull, he pulled it away from the slam zone. “He just got a rude awakening to sorcery in Yaga’s office, I’d give him some grace.”

Paying no mind to the hands on his head, Itadori pondered, “Ah, speaking of Principal Yaga, how did your meeting with him go, (surname)-sensei?”

The older man paused, scrunching up his face, “Eh…”

“Why don’t you ever visit home anymore?”

“Your eyebags are getting worse, are you sleeping properly?”

“Are you even eating?! You’ve lost so much weight!”

“You need to be a better influence for your younger brother, he looks up to you!”

“You’re going to send me into an early retirement, I can feel my hair turning gray already…”

The special grade shrugged, “Like they usually do. He’s caring when he tries to be.”

“If you missed me at the school so much, you could’ve just called me or asked me to come home over text.”

“Ah, but then I worry I might be interrupting you in the middle of something important.”

“...Even if he’s annoying about the way he does it.”

Satoru sighed fondly off to the side, “If that isn’t Yaga-sensei.”

(surname) kicked him in the shin, “I’d agree with anyone else who said that but you.”

Gojo let out a yelp as he stepped back to cradle his wounded leg, “Do I seriously need to keep my infinity up to the max around you?!”

While Fushiguro gave an amused huff, Yuji looked back at the white-haired sorcerer jumping on a single leg while nursing his new bruise incredulously.

“Ignore him,” the older sorcerer stated, patting Yuji’s shoulders a couple times. “There was really only one interesting thing about my meeting with Yaga, but boiled down, he asked me a favor and I’m not really all that inclined to deny my old man any requests.”

He started off back down the hall, “Jujutsu High’s going to be stuck with me for a couple years, so make sure I don’t catch you slacking off. Oh, and,” he turned over his shoulder, “Make sure the two of you are well-rested tomorrow morning, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

JAZMIN BEAN : FAVORITE TOY

☺︎ taglist:

@angelkazusstuff @ahoeindeedinneed @wutap @mysouleaten @ilovebattinson @satansdaughter123 @http-l-o-k-i @rinaizha

masterlist: ☓

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ghostboneswrites2 · 9 months ago

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Could you maybe write something about Daryl with a reader who’s similar to him and has also experienced physical abuse from their father and they just comfort each other and bond over their scars please

Reminders

Note: My laptop cord broke so forgive any formatting errors :( I toyed with a. Few ideas for this but settled on prison era Daryl with non established relationship fem reader. Def some chemistry, but nothing established. Enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, light profanity

Daryl squinted in the sun as he chewed on a freshly picked tomato from the garden. The prison yard was busy, buzzing with activity as people focused on their tasks and socialized amongst themselves. He watched them, studied them. It was new territory for him to feel so important yet so alienated at the same time. Sure, the alienation was mostly his own doing, as he wasn’t much of a social butterfly. He considered himself to be more of a moth, fluttering around on his own in the dark, avoiding the sun. Still, with so many people relying on him and admiring him, it felt unnatural to just walk up to somebody and chat about mundane things as if the world were still turning at its normal pace.

Then, his eyes found you. He never knew what to make of you. You were new — even fresher than the ex-Wooburians. He was the one who found you alone in the forest, yet he had never had a full conversation with you. You were timid and rough on the exterior, never keeping eye contact with anyone unless the sole purpose was intimidation. They almost didn’t let you stick around. It wasn’t until you had a one-on-one with Hershel, where he found you were not all bad, that he talked the rest of the council into keeping you around.

You proved yourself pretty useful, too. You knew a thing or two about gardening crops, you were good with knives and guns, and you were fast. You were never afraid to do what needed to be done, even if it put your own life at risk. You were sent on a lot of runs for that purpose. With people like you and Daryl out on those runs, casualties were few if any. You were both natural protectors.

Some of the kids had taking a liking to you, namely Carl and Mika. You liked them, too, if for different reasons. Carl was strong, and he had an understanding for the world and it’s workings. He impressed you. Mika was sweet, and even if she seemed to sweet for the world, you knew there was a part of her that had potential. She was sure to figure things out, maybe even kick some serious ass one day.

All that aside, Daryl couldn’t read you. Or, maybe he could, and that was the problem. He wasn’t willing to accept how similar the two of you may have been. Hell, he had barely accepted that maybe, somewhere inside him, he was as good as any of these people chattering around him.

“Stare any harder and you’ll melt a hole through her head.” Carol’s voice pulled his gaze away from you. He glared at her.

“Wha’d’ya mean?”

“Oh, come on. You’ve been watching her every move this morning.” She nudged her shoulder against his. “Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

“Hm.” He grunted with a shrug. “Ain’t like that.”

“Why not? She’s cute.” Carol persisted. “She’s like you, but pretty. You’d get along.” She teased.

“Pfft.” He tutted. “She ain’t like me.”

“Whatever.” She chuckled.

Days would go by where he’d watch you from a distance in between his own tasks. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice or feel his eyes dancing over your skin. It was just that you didn’t know how to react or respond. Daryl wasn’t an ugly man by any stretch of the imagination, and unlike him, you could read him all too well because there was something about him that you recognized in yourself and you were willing to accept that similarity.

You snuck your glances in, too. You’d watch from the corner of your eye as his hands gripped the steering wheel on a run, or you’d allow your vision to follow him as he stalked through the gates and into the trees to hunt. You often wondered if he really cared to hunt or if he just wanted to get away. Probably both.

All in all, it was a sad case of two idiots who couldn’t see past their own insecurities and fears far enough to make a move. And it stayed that way, longer than it should have.

One night, when the air was particularly hot and thick with humidity, and he got tired of flipping around on his cot trying to find a cool spot on the sheet, Daryl went outside for a smoke. The prison was fast asleep, save for him, and apparently you. He was about halfway through his cigarette when he noticed a small orange light on the other side of the yard. It would move up and down every so often. He quickly realized it was the cherry of another cigarette.

He couldn’t make out who it was in the darkness, nor could he think of anyone else he’d ever seen smoking. So, he strolled across the grounds and decided to make himself known, so that the other smoker could be known to him. Somehow he was shocked to know it was you.

“Hey.” Your soft voice said casually, not offering even a glance in his direction. You were leaning one shoulder against the chain link fence, watching the quiet forest on the other side.

“Didn’t know ya smoked.” He commented, gluing his eyes to the tree line as well.

“Found the ones I like on our last run. Had to grab ‘em.” You shrugged, taking a long drag and enjoying the cooling menthol as it coated your throat.

“Which ones?” He asked. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Instead of telling him, you just held up the pack.

“Didn’t take ya for the menthol type.” He mumbled. You sent a quick glance his way.

“What kind would you take me for, then?” You wondered.

“Mm-mm.” He shrugged. “Marlboros. The gold pack.”

“Ew.” You chuckled. “I’m a Camel Crush girl, through and through. You?”

“Don’t matter.” He admitted. “Just the strong ones.”

You nodded and hummed and allowed the silence to creep in. You two stood that way for a few minutes, the only sounds being the noises of puffing and exhaling over a symphony of crickets and night critters.

“Why Crush?” He finally asked. “Why not just menthol?”

“I like having choices.” You said simply.

A slight breeze picked up and chilled your sweaty skin. You wore nothing but a tank and shorts, given the boiling temperatures inside. You ran a hand over your arm to combat the chill. His eyes instinctively flickered to the movement and focused on your hand first, then the flesh beneath. Where he expected to find smooth skin, he instead found a rough terrain of keloid scars.

He had never noticed them before because your sleeves always covered them.

“What happened?” He asked.

“What?” You looked over to him and realized he was looking at your arms. Your hand impulsively moved and covered the ugly reminders of your past. “Oh. Nothing good.” You said vaguely.

“Mm.” He nodded, wondering if it was the same kind of bad things that left him with his own scars.

“Shit.” You mumbled, realizing that small gust of wind blew the cherry off your cigarette. “Got a light? I used my last match for this.”

Wordlessly, he dug in his pocket and handed you his zippo. You lit your cigarette back up and passed his lighter back. More silence followed before he broke it again.

“Was it your mom or your dad?” He bravely questioned.

Your eyes darted to him harshly, but they softened. You considering not answering him, but decided there wasn’t much of a reason not to.

“Neither. It was my step dad.” You confessed.

“My dad was a dick too.” He related.

“Mine wasn’t. His replacement was.” You sighed.

“Mm. Merle — my brother — usually just ran away.”

“From what?”

“My dad.” He said quietly.

“Was your dad like my step-dad?” You asked.

“Mm.” He nodded.

“What was his poison?”

“Whiskey.”

“Oh. Mine liked meth.” You admitted. “Must be a stepdad thing.”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Just an asshole thing.”

“Sounds right.” You huffed a fry laugh. “Your daddy mark you up like me?”

“Why?”

“How else would you know someone else did this to me?”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” You sympathized the best you could.

“Don’t matter. It’s in the past.”

“Yeah, I tell myself that, too, but… It’s hard to leave the past where it belongs when you’re covered in reminders. Tryin’ to hide ‘em all the damn time.”

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Maybe they’re just there to remind us we survived.”

You held onto his sentiments, toying with the phrase, spinning it around in your mind and locking it into memory.

“One way to put it, I suppose.”

“It’s the only way to put it. Only way to move on.” He argued. You took the last drag off your smoke before tossing it. Your eyes caught his and stayed there for some time before you offered a soft smile.

“See ya around, Dixon.”

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #request

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eternal-moss · 1 year ago

Text

Good Lord I cannot stop Simonposting

Anyway. The Golbetty shrine. Is incredibly messed up and delightfully feels like the sort of thing someone would construct after comprehending the god of chaos.

It’s clearly not Simon’s first time doing the ritual in vain (we’ve already seen him try many times in the montage at the end of the show to get her back, including consulting the Cosmic Owl and Prismo), so there’s holes in the wall that correspond to Golb’s symbols. The Enchiridion is also there, which was the main source of power for summoning elder gods like the Litch (used to resurrect himself) Golb (used by Magic Man and Betty) and (attempt to) time travel (by Betty). But before the apocalypse, the Enchiridion was owned by Simon himself, and both him and Betty studied it. So it has the twofold power of being a very strong magic battery and has the emotional link to Petrigrof.

The empty bottles and whatever those terrifying lamprey looking things are in a makeshift statue, harbouring a cleaner looking idol (which he probably created himself) out of clay. Making a statue of a god at least twice? Does that mean that even if one gets broken or damaged he has the other one? Or does it make the rituals stronger?

We know that Simon knew a bit about Golb before the apocalypse- in the final episode of the main series we have a flashback of him and Betty, where he says “I keep seeing reference to this mysterious entity that embodies chaos” and “his presence is felt in every crevice where chaos lurks”. To which Betty replies “well it’s a good thing he isn’t here then.”

She sacrificed herself to keep him safe and away from the god of chaos and madness, by fusing her soul with his. Golb being this sort of god means that he’s probably the originator of MMS (Magic, Madness and Sadness) which is a canonical condition where insane/depressed characters will have a higher propensity to magic, and magic users are more prone to bouts of mania, amnesia and depression.

The crown was basically a catalyst of MMS, which caused Simon to have unnatural elemental powers (unlike the elementals which don’t experience default MMS) as well as effecting his body and mind.

Betty is pretty much the only character to have ‘diagnosed’ MMS, recognising it in most magic users, and in Simon, hoping to undo its effects on him. Her theory is proven correct in the episode ‘Betty’ by Bella Noche undoing all the magic in Wizard City and the effects of the crown are nullified, and retracts its influence from Simon, causing him to become ‘normal again’ and regain his clarity and memories.

Grief is shown to be a strong natural catalyst to MMS, which also happened to Magic Man (after his wife Margles was ‘taken by Golb’ which still has an unclear meaning, she definitely didn’t fuse like Betty, although wishing her back at Prismo’s did the exact same thing as Simon wishing Betty back which is really unusual), and Betty herself after the ‘You Forgot Your Floaties’ episode (which by the way is like one of the best episodes in the show).

Betty’s whole motive was to save Simon and free him from madness, which she did at the cost of her soul. But now, ironically, Simon’s grief is causing him to develop it again, which is how he channels the Golb rituals (like how Betty and magic man did) and also probably how the Fionnaverse portal even opened up in the first place.

Something about about Simon having panic attacks in his house and just generally getting triggered by a lot of stuff (Ice, the books he wrote as Ice King, etc) but then gently stroking the clay idol he made of the god of madness because that’s his wife is just heart breaking

Look at that expression :( it’s longing followed by guilt because he knows this is exactly what she would never want him to do.

#Mossy rambles #The autism won today good grief #Fionna and Cake #Adventure Time #Golb #Simon Petrikov #Magic Man #Betty Grof #Petrigrof #THE TRAGIC FAMILY MAN #Simon can never have both Marcy and Betty #Marceline had a dream about having Betty and Simon as her aging parents in Stakes

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captainhotch · 10 months ago

Text

Labyrinth | Evan Buckley

reader x evan buckley (911)

a/n: new show, new post. i don’t make the rules.

masterlist

You hated the way your heart felt in your chest whenever Evan Buckley would look at you with those stupid, annoying Evan Buckley eyes— like it was weightless, floating around your body between where it was supposed to be, your chest, to the pit of your stomach and then all the way down to your toes.

You hated the smile that was tattooed to your face when you chatted with the man, he could make the weather report interesting you swore it.

And the fact that he looked at you the same way that you looked at him? Well you hated that more than anything.

It was easy to pretend you felt nothing when you knew there truly was nothing. But then you started to look into the man’s eyes and see your future in their soft edges and endless pools of blue— in his even softer smile that was reserved only for you. The smile that would grow against his will at the sight of your own.

You ran into burning buildings as a living. You’ve jumped off of roofs and kicked down doors and nearly died more times than you could count— and the unknown, what could happen between you and the man that you had just come to terms with being in love with, well that was the scariest thing you had ever faced.

And the fact that you knew in your soul that he loved you back— that made it scarier. Because if Evan Buckley broke your heart, you weren’t sure you would ever recover.

Your head was thrown back in laugher at whatever stupid story Buck was telling, something about him swearing that his apartment was, without a doubt, haunted. And how the ghost was moving things to taunt him. (Little did the man know that it was most definitely Eddie and everyone in the 118 had been feeding the man ideas on what to do next for the past two months.)

His hands were moving around in that animated way that made the corners of your lips quirk upwards unnaturally, that big smile that was reserved only for him. “It’s not funny.” He insisted, fighting the grin but unable to not smile back.

“It’s a little bit funny.” You shrugged, pinching your fingers together with little space in between. “Do you need me to come scare the ghosts away for you.”

“Yes, actually.” He huffed, arms now crossed over his chest, pout painted on his pretty pink lips. “But if you end up possessed, don’t come crying to me.”

“Wow,” you floundered in mock offense, “so you wouldn’t save me? That’s unbelievably fake of you I can’t lie.”

Buck was silent for a moment, eyes finding yours with a misplaced seriousness considering the conversation you were nearly an hour into,

“I’d do literally anything for you.”

You felt the words tattoo themselves to your heart. You knew he meant it.

It clicked in that moment— what it was you weren’t entirely sure, but all at once you felt nothing. Nothing aside from the hand of yours that found his across the table, not remembering reaching over in the first place, and the warmth that found its place in your chest.

Again you watched your future in those blue eyes before speaking. “You scare me.” You admit finally after a moment of just watching— understanding each other.

He nodded knowingly.

“But I’m tired of being scared, Buck. I just wanna be happy.”

He turned his hand over to grab yours, fingers interlocking as he brought them up to those impossibly distracting lips of his. “You make me so happy.” He practically whispered against the back of your hand, pressing a kiss so soft into the skin, you weren’t sure if you had imagined it.

“Let me love you. Please let me love you, I’m so tired of pretending like I don’t.” You felt the passion in his voice down to your toes. That feather light feeling in your chest returned, and for once your brain wasn’t telling you to run.

“You’re really bad at pretending.” You whisper with a soft smile. “I don’t wanna be scared anymore.” You admit in a more serious tone. “I want to be loved by you, Buck.” You affirmed with a nod, hoping you wouldn’t regret it— knowing you wouldn’t.

His hand dropped yours, moving to cradle your face instead. He was so gentle, his eyes were so soft— you brought your fingers up to lightly pinch his chin, eyes fluttering closed as you moved in close enough for his nose to brush yours.

“I love you.” You finally admitted, the words that once held heavy in your tongue being set free.

He was quick to pull you in closer, lips meeting yours in the slowest, softest kiss of your life. One you weren’t sure you’d ever admit to having dreamt about.

It was still so so scary— loving Buck, letting him love you.

But even more worth it

#911 imagine #evan buckley imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley x reader #911 one shot #911 x reader

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stargirlsmooch · 1 year ago

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sub!r trying to top dom!abby for the first time but fails 😭

perfect... perfect... i genuienly have this fear sometimes... any other wlw ladies having trouble deciding whether they're a switch or a bottom?????

but yes i love this

warnings: the first thing i have written in months!!!!!!! if it is bad, pls don't tell me because my self esteem will be shattered, uncomfortableness, pussy-talk, pillow princess reader <3

it didnt feel wrong... just unnatural. your lower half felt heavy and immovable as you sat on your knees on your bed, your girlfriend spread open for you as you so often were.

you could imagine yourself because you did it so regularly lapping at her pink slit with your tongue, drinking her up as her blonde curls tickled your nose, but... You couldn't see yourself sliding into her.

the strap bobbed between your thighs, gently nudging your clit and forcing little whimpers out of your mouth, and subsequently, chuckles out of abby's mouth.

"you're so hot, baby," you whisper, the almost-domineering words feeling foreign on your tongue... you're so used to being on the receiving end of the nickname.

"hi, baby" "hey, baby, can you grab me that?" "you're so pretty, baby" "fuck, c'mere babygirl" "shit, look at you go, baby, riding me so good"

a rosey and sheepish blush settled on your cheeks and your eyes dipped from oggling your girlfriend's abs and thighs to her slick folds as you eased them open with the tip of the dildo.

abby knew this wasn't gonna go far, she had you wrapped so tightly around her little finger that a single look from her would put you right where you needed to be: underneath her. but she couldn't stop herself from letting out a deep groan at the contact.

the same deep groan she makes when she's nestled inside of you, the strap nudging her clit and forcing her to go deeper and deeper until she hits that spongey spot inside that makes you arch your back.

just like you, abby's brain was locked on an image of you in another position; knees pushed up to your chest as she watches your pussy swallow her thick strap to the hilt, leaking sticky white cream as you moan for her.

the longer you stay staring down at the strap poking her entrance, the more the tears want to fall at the uncomfortableness in your chest.

you feel out of sorts and abby notices right away, reaching up to wrap an arm around your back and using her other hand to gently release you from the harness.

"not for you, is it, baby?" she whispers against your tummy, giving you soft kisses from your belly button to your sternum, "better let me do it, huh?"

as you nod your head, you can't help but let your eyes close at the feeling of her lips on your skin; biting and kissing and licking.

"you cant help it that you're a pillow princess, can you, baby?" her fingers run down your front, between your breasts, over the softness of your belly and to your clit where she adds more pressure, "this little pussy was just made to take me."

"wanna be the one to take it, abby. make me take it."

#hann answers #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson smut

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iovetecchou · 1 year ago

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That Funny Feeling ⧸ Dazai Osamu

༞ Contains...! !TW! this fic contains heavy topics such as: suicide, depression, anxiety, and self-deprecating thoughts. hurt/comfort type beat, hugging, gentle touches, hand holding, swearing, suggestive implications but NOTHING actually happened! kunikida is just silly, dazai really is a sweetheart in this ):

༞ GN Reader.

༞ 2,494 words.

a/n: if you have struggled with your own mental health past or present, just know that you are not alone. i love you and am so proud of you for still being here and pushing through each day, no matter how difficult that can be. never be afraid to rely on someone close to you when things become too much to bear, you are worthy of living and deserve to be loved.

Some people just aren't cut out for life. We are all dealt a hand, some cards interchangeable. But for the most part, they mold us; and make us who we are. They map out the rest of our lives. So what are you supposed to do when all the cards you've been handed don't play in your favor?

Even the interchangeable cards; you discard them only to pick up more rotten ones. Your judgment is poor, and your decision-making only gets you stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You envy the people who were gifted better cards. People who were not condemned from the start. Those are the people who make something out of their lives, the ones who are deserving of taking up space.

You know this sounds self-deprecating, and yeah, it is. But to you, it's also logic. You think that's why you dislike Dazai Osamu.

When he talks so freely about death, his desire for a perfect suicide. It makes your stomach turn, not for obvious reasons, but for selfish ones. He plays off his pain as a joke so no one thinks twice about it when he asks a pretty stranger to "commit a double suicide" with him.

You try so hard to conceal your suicidal thoughts, hiding your depression behind a pretty mask. Showing up to work each day with a smile on your face and a "can do!" attitude.

You and Dazai really are the same in that aspect, masking your pain so it's less noticeable to others around you.

Your abdomen twists into knots when he talks so freely about suicide because it causes your mind to wander and your mask to slip. Dazai always seems to pick up on that slight change in you when it happens, too. His chestnut eyes bore holes into your profile from where he sits beside you. You can feel his eyes on you as you try to smile brighter, putting on a chipper face as Kenji updates you on how the cows on his farm are doing.

You hate it. It feels like he's reading your mind; retaining all your deepest darkest secrets. Does your face really give you away so easily? No... It can't be that. You've been working at the Detective Agency for a long while now, and since then, no one else has ever assumed something was wrong with you.

If they only knew how pitiful your life really was. As much as you love all your colleagues at the Agency, you hate working. Waking up is exhausting, and you dread the repetitive daily routines you're forced to accomplish. On your off days, you sit at home alone- by choice. Interacting with others is draining, and when you're urged to participate in social activities, the anticipation and anxiety eat away at you until the day finally comes.

Much like today, the day you've been letting eat away at you since the mention of a work party was brought to your attention. You practiced different smiles and laughs in the mirror, shaking your head and trying again when your "act" seemed too unnatural. You probably changed your outfit ten times before ultimately deciding on the same old thing you usually wore.

Your hands were coated in perspiration as you balled your fingers, making a fist. You took in a shaky breath as you brought yourself to finally knock on Chief Fukuzawa's door. He welcomed you with a tight-lipped smile and a nod of his head, stepping aside to let you through. Immediately, you felt his eyes on you. Dazai watched your little performance as you greeted everyone, and when it was finally his turn to watch your act up close and personal- you froze.

His eyes were too intimidating. You felt exposed in front of him. It irked you that he had such an effect on you. Why was it so easy to pretend with everyone else but him?

"Aww, where's my greeting?" Dazai smirked devilishly at you, raising his eyebrows slightly as he leaned in close. All-encompassing, invading your personal space.

You remained quiet. You were on the outside looking in, screaming to yourself to say something- anything. Your gaze shifted to the floor as your hands came up to bunch up the hem of your shirt, rolling it between your fingers; an attempt to self-soothe.

"I..."

"Oi! Stop teasing them, Dazai," Yosano shouted from the kitchen, plum-colored eyes still fixated on the fizzy concoction she began making for herself.

The sound of Yosano's strong voice ripped you from your stupor. Your head shot up, only to notice Dazai was still gazing at you- studying you.

"I would do no such thing! I'm hurt that you think so low of me, Yosano!" Dazai's intense gaze finally eased up on you as he whipped his head around to face Yosano. The tall brunette man clutched a hand over his heart in feigned affliction.

You took that as your opening to slip away, excusing yourself to the restroom. You hardly noticed the way Dazai's attention was drawn back to you at the sound of your hurried footsteps. "Hey- wait up!"

You quickly pulled the bathroom door shut behind you. You could hardly look at yourself in the mirror, too ashamed of yourself for freezing up back there. The cool tile floor welcomed you as you sunk, curling into yourself. You hugged your knees as they drew closely into your chest. You could feel your rapid heartbeat in your throat, anxiety rising by the second.

"You know, I wouldn't be sitting on the floor if I were you. Let's get you up." Nothing registered until you felt firm hands grasp your biceps. A strong force drawing you up to rely upon your shaky legs.

"Why- what are you..?" Your sentence fell off. You weren't entirely sure what you were trying to ask. Your mind was too convoluted with disappointment; shame for yourself.

"The door was unlocked so I figured I'd let myself in! You weren't looking too hot out there, and I wanted to check up on you." Dazai's warm hands still cradled your biceps, untrusting the support your trembling legs half-heartedly gave you in your current state.

"I'm fine," You chuckled out of nervousness before continuing, "I'll be out in a minute, so you can just go." You could tell by how Dazai looked at you that he didn't buy your lie, not even for a second.

He let out a deep sigh, large palms moving up to your shoulders before he blurted out, "Stop, just- just stop. You're not fooling me, so quit it with the peachy-keen act. Why do you insist on hiding behind a facade?"

"Why do you?!" You shouted back. You brought your hands up to swat his hands off your shoulders. The shift between distress and rage made your legs feel more grounded.

Dazai gaped at you for a moment. He genuinely looked taken aback before his face shifted into a tepid expression. He let his arms settle against his sides, his demeanor appearing more taut than usual.

"This isn't about me. Stop deflecting." His voice was eerily calm, making you feel unsettled. Seeing a more serious side to Dazai was far and few between for you.

"But it is! I hate you... I hate you so much. You- you..." Your vision began to blur as tears spilled past your lashline and down your sullen cheeks. How embarrassing, you thought. Crying in front of the man that made your stomach turn.

Dazai brought his hand up to your cheek, brushing away the onslaught of tears with the pad of his thumb. "I believe that hatred is displaced. You just don't want to acknowledge that."

Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as you drew your hand to grasp his wrist. You tugged with all your might to pull him from your cheek, but no give. Dazai stubbornly kept his large palm on your face. The warmth from his hand seared your skin. It was neither comforting nor unpleasant. Just... unfamiliar.

"You're wrong, I hate you-"

"No, you hate that you see yourself in me."

Your hand fell from his wrist. He was right, and deep down, you knew that. But you refused to admit it. It was shameful. You liked to hate Dazai because it took attention away from the real problem at hand, yourself.

Dazai let out a sigh as he continued to wipe away your tears. "Tell me to stop if you hate it, but I'm going to hug you now." Before you could process, Dazai embraced you. His hand that was caressing your face only moments ago now cradled your neck. His other arm wrapped around your frame, enveloping you.

"I understand your pain well... I can see myself in you too. But I don't despise you, you know. I actually... worry for you. You try so hard to pretend that everything is fine. It must be exhausting."

It felt like your heart was being squeezed, as if your ribcage was collapsing in on itself. His words shot right through you, as did the guilt. You had been so unfair toward Dazai up until now. Using your displaced disdain for him as a distraction because you were too much of a coward to hold yourself accountable.

It ached so much to come to terms with. Your arms felt heavy as you pulled them up to wrap around Dazai's lanky frame. You quietly sobbed into his chest, grasping your hands into the back of his shirt desperately; as a small child would cling to their mother.

Dazai hummed softly into your hair, welcoming the silence with open arms; as he did you. You were sure all your colleagues were wondering why Dazai and yourself had been in the restroom for so long, but you hardly cared at this very moment.

For the first time, in a long time, you felt seen. Like you didn't need to hide when Dazai was in your presence... because even if you did- he would know. Being vulnerable felt similar to what you imagined walking a tightrope hung across two tall skyscrapers entailed. So, to say you were apprehensive about this was an understatement.

However, in the same breath, it felt freeing. It took a little bit of weight off your shoulders to share your burdens with another person. But never in a million years did you think the person who brought you solace would end up being Dazai Osamu.

"I'm sorry, Dazai- I'm so fucking sorry. I-"

"It's okay. Believe me, I treated people a lot worse than this from my own displaced hatred," Dazai interrupted. Caressing your hair softly, hyperaware of the wet feeling seeping through his shirt and smearing over his skin from your tears before he continued,

"Just... just promise me you'll talk to me if it ever becomes too unbearable to handle on your own. I know how it sounds coming from me, I'm a hypocrite- huh? But trust me when I tell you… you are deserving of this thing we call living. Even if you can't see it yourself, I can... and I will remind you of that fact until I'm blue in the face if I have to."

You pulled back from Dazai's chest as you sniffled, eyes scanning his stoic face. He smiled at you softly, rubbing up and down the sides of your arms in a comforting way. "There you are. I was beginning to think you cried your face off!" You chuckled at his dumb quip, letting your fingers untangle from the cloth adorning Dazai's back.

"Well, this is embarrassing... and I'm sure at this point all the others think were up to no good in here." It was Dazai's turn to laugh as his hands drifted lower, grasping yours softly. Your fingers intertwined as a lopsided grin painted your face.

"So let 'em! Who cares? The only thing that matters is that your heart is beating and you're here. Still standing in front of me." Your smile dropped slightly, the urge to cry bubbling back up, making your throat tighten.

"Dazai," You tightly squeezed his hands within your grasp. Scared that if you loosened your grip for even a second, this moment would be gone before you could say everything you needed to. "I'm really glad you're still here, too."

Dazai closed his eyes for a moment, his smile wavering. "There's so much pain in the world... sometimes it's hard not to notice it. I couldn't shut it out every time I felt your distress. That's why I kept a close eye on you all this time. I'm not just some creep with a staring problem,"

You both laughed at that sentiment before he continued, "I know with each day those painful thoughts are waiting for you. But it's not only that, there's also possibilities. Possibilities you can only discover as long as you're alive."

Your hands still clutched his with great force. His words caused you to cry once more as Dazai's eyes softened. He quietly cooed at you, whispering "don't cry," so gently, it was almost inaudible.

"Dazai... I hope you know the same can be said for you, and your life," You paused, trying to swallow that lump in your throat before you continued. "I... want to help you- help you live. I know it doesn't mean much coming from me, but as long as you're still here I will do whatever I can to help you. I swear it."

Your tear-filled eyes bored into his chestnut ones. Desperately hoping your words got through to him. Dazai inhaled a shaky breath, eyebrows raising slightly. His lips curved into a tight-lipped smile before he let out a small chuckle. "You're really something else, you know that? Not even ten minutes ago you were shouting about how much you hate me. Now we're best buds... how cute!"

You knew he was deflecting, you guessed being vulnerable was just as daunting to him as it was for you. Before you could say anything more, the door flung open. Both Dazai and yourself whipped your heads in the direction of Kunikida shouting.

"Dazai! Just what do you think you're doing- wait a damn minute! What did you do to Y/N to make them cry?! Get away from them this instant you damn pervert!"

Kunikida gripped Dazai by the collar, dragging him out of the restroom. When your hands untangled from his, you felt uneasy. There was so much more you wanted to say, but it would just have to wait... for now.

You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself at the sound of Dazai shouting for you to help prove his innocence from presumably the living room. For the first time since you stepped into the bathroom, you looked at yourself. Taking in your disheveled state.

Ah, there it is again. That funny feeling.

don't accuse me of making this a self-insert, i will cry!

#dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai x reader #dazai x you #osamu dazai x reader #osamu dazai x you #dazai angst #dazai osamu angst #dazai osamu bsd #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you

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perictione00 · 1 year ago

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Sex Education

Part 1/2

Pairing: Professor Toji x reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut, reader is 20 and a virgin, Toji's in his early 30s, corruption kink, unprotected sex, oral sex.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Being part of a conservative family, you had lived an exceptionally sheltered life. Even at school, you were part of a pretty nerdy group, so you never had the chance to flirt with the territories of what your father called the "act of procreation." Not only that, but your school treated the very subject of puberty as taboo; consequently, you had an awkward age of adolescence, where you were bewildered by the sudden body changes. Your first period was a disaster, and your mother was no help as she made you think of it as a dirty thing. However, it wasn't anything new as you were used to this reaction, rejection, and being neglected by your whole family. Hence, by the age of 18, you were a prudish virgin, a nun basically, who felt uncomfortable in her own body.

It was a total culture shock, though, when you moved out of your house for college. You saw girls and boys all over each other publicly, "Such degenerates," you used to think as you passed by them. Kissing and sex scenes were unnatural to you; it was confusing, and you felt revolted but at the same time weird all over your body. Nonetheless, you kept your modesty and dignity intact, never accepting any proposals or going to wild parties or dressing like an immoral woman. Your parents would never accept you that way, not like they did in the first place, but at least they acknowledged your existence; that was enough. The only thing you didn't understand was why you didn't feel happy or fulfilled. You were keeping yourself the way your parents liked, yet you felt isolated and empty.

So on your 20th birthday, you had decided to grow and change along with your surroundings, a resolution of sorts, and that very day, you talked to your roomie for more than 30 seconds, an improvement from your previous chats. She was very sweet and straightforward enough to let you know that you dressed like a nun. As days passed, you experienced a lot of new things; you were enjoying your time at the parties, trying on clothes you never imagined yourself ever wearing, and engaging in conversations with guys. you were finally feeling like a normal person your age. Everything was pretty much stagnant until you came across your Professor for Animal Reproduction, a man with a scar on his lips.

Professor Toji Zenin was the most sought-after bachelor on the campus, and you couldn't complain, as you too were fascinated by his good looks, and it was a plus that he was great at teaching too. Everyone was mesmerized by the mere existence of Professor Toji; from the way he looked to the way he dressed, his voice, and his body, he was a walking wet dream. It was frustrating as the whole class tried their best to concentrate on his teachings rather than his thighs, to no avail, which resulted in poor performance by everyone. However, due to your upbringing, you were always good at academics, so it came as no surprise when you scored the highest in the first test, but what surprised you was the public appreciation from the professor.

Now Toji might look like he had taken advantage of his popularity quite a lot, but the guy was a saint. Well, he had fucked some of his high school teachers, but after entering the same domain, he was certain that it might ruin him for good. He knew about the consequences of having such forbidden thoughts; regardless, he couldn't exactly help but notice the girl who was always on time, sitting in the very first row, never missing his lectures. He valued all of his students equally; he just cherished you a bit more. He observed the way you stared at him, how you blushed whenever he caught you staring, and how you submitted your assignments punctually with a sweet message. Your cute little outfits were no help either, never failing to make him uncomfortable in his pants. Nonetheless, being the professional person that he is, he kept these carnal desires latent from everyone up till you scored low on your test for Sex Education.

Toji was playing with your clit as tears brimmed your eyes; you couldn't stop moaning; it was all too much. You were sitting on his lap, half-naked with your tits out, and your skirt was barely covering your sex. "This right here is the most pleasurable and sensitive part of a woman's body," Toji explained as one of his hands moved to your tits. You were unable to form any coherent sentences as you kept moaning. Toji suddenly entered a finger inside of you; you were so wet that he easily entered another two. Goosebumps covered your body; you were drooling in lust, and your walls tightened around his thick digits. Toji realized that you were nearing your orgasm, so he stopped altogether.

"What—why... please... please don't stop," you were cut off as Toji turned your body, making you lay down completely on the bed. Before you could comprehend, he held your legs apart as his tongue lapped at your alluring pussy, fucking your hole. It was too much stimulation; you tried moving away, but Toji held your thighs in a tight grasp, yanking your sex towards his face. "Please... ahh... it's dirty," you said, feeling shameful. Well, that was enough to trigger Toji to drag his tongue to your clit and suck on the bud. You were losing your mind as Toji continued savoring your cunt. Your body was on fire as you bucked your hips instinctively and slid your fingers, grabbing onto Toji's hair tightly, suffocating him as Toji gladly rubbed his nose on your clit. Your vision turned white as you climaxed; you were left breathless as Toji helped you through your orgasm.

You were just catching your breath as Toji's lips found yours, kissing you deeply, biting you. You were distracted by something hard nudging your thigh as his tongue was exploring your mouth."Mmff... Toji," you said as you pushed him slightly, looking down, only to see him hard. You slipped your hand under his trousers, wrapping it around his dick."Fuck… what are you doing?" Toji said, sighing heavily. "I want to make you feel good," you replied innocently. You looked so fucking adorable that Toji could no longer restrain himself, so he led you on your knees before taking out his dick. He could see that you were intimidated by the size, so he asked you to suck him slowly.

You sucked his cock, bobbing your head as Toji controlled your movements. You tasted something bitter on your tongue, stopping only to see some liquid coming out of the slit. Without thinking, you involuntarily teased him as you licked and sucked harder to get more of it. Losing all control, Toji started fucking your throat as you choked. "Fuck, just like that, yeah, you're doing so good, ahh," he said in between his grunts. You sucked harder, wanting more of him; you were loving it—the taste, his groans, his hands holding your hair. you wanted to be used by him and be at his disposal. He came as his eyes met yours, he came a lot and swallowed all of it, reveling the taste of his seed. "Good girl", he praised you as you got up from your knees. This feeling, the praise, the acceptance, you didn't want this to end, you wanted more, so you asked him boldly if he wanted to go all the way with you and who was Toji to deny such pleasure?

You were an enticing young woman, Toji had to admit, and your innocence was enough to trigger his need to corrupt you and turn you into his nymphomaniac slut, which was exactly what he was doing as he played with your pussy to get you wet enough for his size. "I'm a virgin," you announced out of the blue, which didn't surprise him, yet he assured you for the sake of it. Toji started with your nipples, giving them the attention they begged for, sucking on one while teasing the other. You moaned loudly as he bit them; you were so aroused that you didn't notice him entering your cunt. You yelped in pain; the stretch was more than you anticipated, but as Toji moved gradually, the pain subsided. He was biting your shoulder to avoid going too fast, but you clenched your walls as you whispered, "No, don't; just use me.".

Toji went feral as those words escaped your lips, roughly having you in a mating press position, he started fucking you deep with each thrust hitting your sweet spot, sending a shiver down your spine. You arched your back from the overwhelming wave of pleasure as you continued chanting Toji's name in broken syllables. Toji groped your tits, swirling his tongue on them while you grinded on his length, wanting him to come inside of you. "Fill me up, Toji; I want you to cum inside," you said in between your moans. The last bit of self-control Toji had left his body, and his movements became swift and erratic. He came with a grunt, filling you up as you moaned endlessly, begging him to not stop, which he didn't, forcing his cum back into you till you reached your high. And then with a heated kiss and a devilish smirk on his face, he said, "Let's go over this topic again in 10."

Part 2

#jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #jjk smut #fushiguro toji #jjk toji #jjk toji smut #toji smut #toji x reader smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen Toji #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader

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