#all their instructions are leaving out so much information

[obeymeluv]

Being Clever with the Fae (Malleus x Reader, Lilia x Reader, Sebek x Reader)

Pre-established relationship implied. You tell the Diasomnia boys that your world planned for ways to outsmart faes. You pull your trick but you're not sure who won.

Warning: Pepaw Bat's gets a little spicy so be careful.

I'm taking liberties with Sebek's part because he's a neutral for me and I don't know that much about him.

You and Malleus had talked about fae folklore more than once. He was delighted to know fae had something of a presence in your world but was wildly horrified at the misinformation. Out of everything you told him, only a handful were correct:

Don't give your name unless you trust that fae because names have power

Iron will hurt some fae but not all. Iron is more harmful to nocturnal fae than day fae.

Being rude to fae may be the end of you altogether

Partaking in fae food means you open yourself up for a wager

Yes, fae like to play tricks. Expect them and be wary.

Stepping into a fairy circle will summon the fairy who made it.

Just about everything else was wrong. That's why he and Lilia were teaching you what not to do if you came upon the various fae in Twisted Wonderland. Thus far you'd only managed to memorize what herbs kept smaller creatures at bay and how to curry the favor of the various faeries that helped out at NRC. Your current assignment from Lilia was filling out a map of different fae territories and classifying them as 'safe' for humans or 'unsafe'. Each territory had a tree they would love to craft from or loathed to be near and you were expected to know that, too.

Strange stuff but apparently it was important.

They liked to break up the bigger chunks of information with smaller, digestible things like etiquette so it felt more manageable. Malleus was currently instructing you on how to part from a fae in a formal setting as to not incur their wrath.

"Again, Child of Man," he's bowed down until eye level with you, one hand holding yours.

"Light shake, eye contact, nod, slide foot back, squeeze the hand, turn." he's parroting your motions until you turn away. He, instead, draws himself to his full height and observes as you pretend to walk away.

"Excellent," he nods. "But ensure you don't slouch while leaving. It will make some feel as if you don't hold them in high regard."

"That's so--" you roll your eyes. He simply lifts his brow as if to question your mild frustration. You puff your cheeks out and he laughs.

"We can be a bit particular." he agrees.

"To a fault." you smirk.

"Oh?" he's intrigued, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah," you smile. "In my world the fae were known for being literal with their word so you always had to keep something clever in reserve."

"Do tell," Malleus' grin goes from practiced and polite to genuine. A hint of fang shows.

"It's kind of specific though. Depends on that old joke about fae wanting to come for the first born."

"That's not really a joke," Malleus crossed his arms. You can't tell if he's offended or not. "We like the younglings. We're always looking to bring more around to the fae ways. In fact, fae make fantastic guardians because--"

He had a lot to say and you felt the beginnings of a lecture creep up. In some way you felt like you were in trouble. To save yourself, you said, "Just pretend. Then I can show you what we do."

Malleus pretended to make a deal with you. It looked a bit intimidating and official with the magic pulsing in the rickety floorboards of Ramshackle. They were groaning. Shadows danced along his face as pieces of his signature thorned briar wove around your joined hands. "In exchange for the repairs around Ramshackle, you will give your firstborn to me."

You pull him in, his green eyes searching curiously for any hint of what's to come. "Sure! How soon do you want to start working on that? Or do you want to wait a little while?"

All at once the floorboards fell quite. The hum of magic died with a rattle that broke the briar into tiny pieces. A few fell at your feet, the others shooting off into various directions.

Oh. Did he not understand? You thought it was clever! Maybe he was too sheltered to--

His laugh is kind of a snort at first but then you hear it honest and lilting. The hand holding yours slides up your arm and snakes around your waist. You're lifted until your hands find purchase on his shoulders and your legs wrap around whatever they reach. Your heart goes from your chest to your throat when his gloved hands slide down to your thighs as he walks you to your sad couch.

"Now is fine," he's careful to hold his weight above you, silky hair spilling around you and tickling your cheeks. His eyes are bright and boyish, a deadly compliment to his kissable lips.

Well, that technically backfired but if this were a real situation you'd make out just fine because he'd chosen to make out with you instead of curse you.

------ ----- ----- ----

Lilia wanted to focus on physical protection as much as written knowledge when it came to handling fae. You still couldn't wrap your head around the idea of him being a general but he had old photos, a weird mask, and a massive magearm to prove it. You'd picked up quite a few self-defense moves and practiced them regularly. He wanted them to be second nature to you. So here you are, in a designated training room within Diasomnia.

"You just want to cuddle me," you teased, in the familiar position of him being behind you with an arm around your neck. One elbow was planted in your shoulder, the other clasping it at the forearm to make a little prison for you. He gave a reprimanding squeeze, ever mindful of the pressure since you were fully human. Lilia gave a huffy laugh, trying to relax his smile into something more stern as he wove his fingers into your hair. You flinched at the tug and slapped his arm lightly.

"Focus," he couldn't deny himself the simple pleasure of whispering into your ear. If you asked him, it was to throw you off balance and distract you. "What could you do now?"

You thought about just leaning back into him, pressing against him, but you knew that wasn't what he meant. Capitalizing on this moment of closeness, the stillness, to huck him over your shoulder and into the floor crossed your mind but then you'd have to give him a back rub later.

Not that you minded that, either.

"We could make a deal," you leaned back to whisper in his ear even though it hurt your neck a little. You could tell by the way his bangs fluttered that he'd jerked in surprise. Was that a little pink on his cheeks? Before you could nip his pointed ear, Lilia leaned you forward and took his elbow off your shoulder, opting to hold you in a bearhug instead.

"Acceptable in this situation," he managed, clearing his throat when his voice cracked a little. "Although this exercise is supposed to be combat related."

"So make the terms. I can't negotiate a deal that doesn't exist." you try to break his hold, shimmying your shoulders and sliding your feet to see if you could slip away. He lifts you off the ground with an ease that doesn't seem possible with his short, lithe body. You hang there against him as he thinks.

"Your life for that of your firstborn."

A bit dark, wasn't it? Kind of rude, really, you thought. But, your train of thought continued to ramble, he did find Silver somewhere so it didn't seem too unusual that he'd want a kid. Either that, or he was messing with you because you told him that whisking away kids was something fae were known for in your world.

"You can't have a firstborn with your clothes on." you joke.

"That's not true because I found Silver with my--" Lilia drops you when he realizes what you've said. You weren't expecting him to drop you and didn't catch yourself, hissing as you land on your knees. Before you can start complaining or poke fun at him for being an old man he's locked the door. You're bowled over as he rushes over to you, pinning you on your back as he peppers kisses along your throat and collarbone.

He's several bites in and you’re halfway undressed when you think you hear a knock at the door. Lilia begrudgingly peels himself off of you, licking blood from the corner of his lips.

"Father? Are we not going to train today?"

"M'fraid not, my boy," Lilia turns his attention back to you, opening your legs to slip between them. "But you'll be getting a new sparring partner in about nine months."

His red eyes are glowing. They're absolutely beguiling.

"Do they come with therapy?” he hears Silver mumble as you look up at him through your lashes.

He pounces on you again. It was a brilliant, filthy tactic. He's not exactly mad about it. You've earned favor with one fae, at least, and he will protect you from the others.

----- ----- --- ---

Sebek is a hard worker. He's a product of his environment; he has Baur's straightforwardness, Lilia's dedicated regimens, and his mother's impressive teeth and jaw strength. Lilia thought the best way for you to learn some of the self-defense tactics was to fight someone your size.

Sort of. Sebek seemed to be the better choice since Silver was too sleepy to be a constant threat. And, in Lilia's mind, you should have an easier time fighting a half-fae versus a full fae.

You never noticed how muscular Sebek was until you were under him. He's got corded arms and you can see the muscles of his shoulders flexing under the Diasomnia shirt he chose for the exercise.

You've never seen him in casual clothes! He actually looks very nice. Not as buff as Jack but sturdy in his own way; his chest is broader than you imagined. A solid man.

More than capable of being Malleus' body guard.

You groan as he knocks the air out of you a little. He's on top of you, pressed into your back. He's got one foot braced against the floor, leaning his weight into you. Your arms are pinned at your side courtesy of the one he's snaked underneath you.

When did he flip you over? Asshole, you scrunch your nose in frustration as your cheeks begin to burn. He's an asshole that means well and won't go easy on you, though. He makes sure you learn. You try to inch out from beneath him but he angles his shoulder down and grabs his own wrist, dragging you back to him.

"You're supposed to do something in this situation!" he grumps, "You know how to break this hold!"

You do, but he's heavy and it probably wouldn't work. And he's had a literal lifetime of training versus your handful of months. You've tangled your legs together and used his half-lean to put him on his back. Your kicking like a tipped-over bug and almost free when you remember that his fae half is crocodilian and you might have triggered his death roll tendency.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Sebek's pupils change, the dark of his eye slitting and boring into you. His throat strains like he's growling but you don't hear anything. It trembles against the back of your neck and you're reminded in that moment of just how much bigger he is than you.

How he folds around you and encompasses you.

He opens his mouth, teeth glinting and sharp. "You've bested me," you admit, swallowing thickly as his teeth hover near your shoulder. "Make your deal."

You somehow turn yourself around in his unrelenting squeeze.

Sebek huffs as if he's insulted and you swear you see his teeth dull. His pupils begin to fill out. He's usually loathe to acknowledge his human side, as he'd much rather be full fae, but it serves him in this instance. "I'm not a true fae. Such a thing wouldn't work on me!"

"You have to pretend! Lilia's teaching me how to deal with the fae! You just won't hurt me as much. Maybe." you dare to flash that teasing grin at him and Sebek nearly tears into his own lip because he doesn't know what to do with that wiggly feeling you give him.

Him? Hurt you? Not on purpose. It would go against the core values his grandfather AND Lilia taught him! Any fae caught abusing their spouse would be drawn and quartered, made a public display of. Any human man who chose to do so was no man at all!

Sebek's face feels almost painfully warm. He can feel the heat spreading from his cheeks to his ears. "In an act of benevolence inspired by the great Prince Malleus, I shall spare your delicate human self in exchange for a child. Is that the cliche rubbish you desire?"

Some of his once slicked-back hair has fallen down on his forehead, between his eyes, as if it's disappointed in you too.

"You think our child would be cliche rubbish? Cliche Rubbish Zigvolt? That does NOT sound good! I'm naming the firstborn, you're just helping make it."

"Wha--but I--that's not!" Sebek doesn't know what to say and he hasn't been trained for this. He's careful not to shove you away but untangles himself like a thrown ragdoll. He rolls over sharply, totally fine with hiding his face in the floor. His green hair is in disarray and his arms are limp, stretched out to either side of him.

You laugh, climbing onto his back and raking your nails down it gently. He makes the noise. You're not sure what it is but you've heard it before. It's deep and somehow soothing. He relaxes underneath you as you continue to scratch his back, throwing in a squeeze to his muscles every now and then.

It's not until you're in what would be the small of his back (if he wasn't build so solid and thick) that he raises his head, folds his arms up, and rests his chin on his hands. "You're safe." he can't bear to turn his head and look at you right now. If he did, you'd see how...how...weak and mushy he looked. Sebek snorts through his nose, arching his back in surprise as your hands slide all the way up until you flop on his back and your arms hang off his shoulders.

"Thank you, o' kind Zigvolt!" you hug his neck. "This delicate human appreciates it!"

"And I...appreciate...you." he mumbled slowly, the words a little foreign to him. More scary than foreign, honestly. That heartwarming shyness evaporated in an instant when he pinned you and began a stern lecture about how you should NOT offer to conceive a child with ANY OTHER FAE and what YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE INSTEAD.

You weren't surprised by this. Sebek lectured Silver all the time and Lilia said he was a very informed pupil. You, too, would be informed as it didn't seem like he was letting you go anytime soon.

[julymusings]

Jason Todd x Single Mom!Reader

I've been plagued for many months now by the idea of jason todd x young single mom!reader. I literally made this blog this morning just to post this

this is so LONG try as i might to shorten it i've been itching to get all this out of me so enjoy this word vomit i might just make a full fic if i'm feeling extra frisky

You got pregnant in college, and now you’re fresh out of grad school moving to a new city with your 3 year old daughter

You got a job at Wayne Enterprises, leading an important new project. You and your colleagues are invited to the latest Wayne Gala, hosted at the billionaire’s own manor. All these years as a young mother and a student, you hadn’t any experience with such extravagance-- how could you say no?

the party lowkey sucks because it's all old rich people so you sneak out to a balcony where you find a young man drinking whiskey and texting on his phone.

he introduces himself as jason, and his hand is rough and calloused when you shake it, but it's warm and sends a tingle up your arm. (😏)

You chat about your work, he complains about the stuffiness of a life at Wayne Enterprises and you laugh when he warns you to get out while you can (he's joking, of course. not because he thinks it's worth staying but because if you leave he'd never be able to hear that adorable laugh again)

when you go off on a tangent about how excited you are for your project, he's not even listening anymore. the sheer passion that lights up your face has his mind going fuzzy and a full orchestra playing in the background

you're pulled back in before he can get your number :( he's so mopey all weekend he doesn't even have it in him to retaliate when damian makes fun of him for having pink pony club as his top song for this month :(

when you get home your email is flooded with warnings from other parents at your daughter's daycare about a lice scare?? okay, you think, she's definitely not going on monday, you can just bring her to work with you, right? what's the worst that could happen?

the following monday he just happens to show up at the office (He can't just stop by to say hi to his brother who he loves?) (tim calls security almost immediately)

you're not at your cubicle (in a meeting, your desk neighbor informs him) so he mills about the floor like a lost puppy just waiting for you to show up so he can "accidentally" run into you

the woman at the front desk has a chair pulled up next to hers where this little girl with pigtails is sitting, trying to console her as tears stream down her face

jason springs into action, kneeling in front of her chair to ask what's wrong

she just sniffles and holds up her stuffed animal, an elephant whose button eye has popped out, the woman watching her trying to get her to hand it over so she can sew it back on but she wont let go

he goes full grey's anatomy, fussing over the toy like it's in mortal peril and complimenting her for being so brave before gently asking if he can try to fix it

she lets him take it and he uses the woman's travel sewing kit to stitch it back on

she's ecstatic, leaping forward into his arms to give him a big hug

but now she won't let him leave because no he has to have a conversation with the elephant first and introduce himself and give it post-surgery care instructions and listen to it talk about how much she it wants a puppy and he feels like such an idiot talking to that thing but anything to make this little girl smile

she pulls a little picture book from the backpack hung on the back of her chair and asks him to read with her and he can't just say no!

so he plops down on the tile floor and starts reading out loud and even though she's standing next to him craning her neck to see the pictures he's a head taller than her

when you finish your meeting and head back to the front desk to thank gretchen for watching your kid the sight you see makes your heart absolutely melt

jason and your daughter are sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor of Wayne Enterprises as he reads to her, and he's pulling out all the stops, he's doing voices, sound effects, and she's giggling so hard she can't sit up straight

but then they both finally notice you

"mommy!" she yells, running to you and wrapping herself around your leg

you're surprised to see him, but definitely not disappointed, and if what you just walked in on indicated anything, it was that you wanted, nay, needed this man

so now you're flushed and hopeful, mind running with possibilities of why he's here; could it be? he couldn't stop thinking about you either? he came all the way to ask you out?

but jason is also surprised, astounded even, by the miniature carbon copy clinging to your leg saying something about scooby snacks

he's freaking out on the inside

through a tight-lipped greeting he excuses himself with what he hopes is a neutral demeanor (spoiler alert: it's not) and goes home to think

and you obviously know exactly what that was about, one doesn't go through pregnancy at 19 without becoming well-acquainted with the whole catalogue of surprised/judgy reactions

of course you're a mess because the early/mid 20s dating scene is hard enough as it is but with a toddler? forget it, might as well just give up now

you go home to call your best friend and get drunk over face time while she assures you that men aint shit and offers to put a curse on him (you consider it, but how are you supposed to get a lock of his hair?)

he's up all night hating himself for being such an asshole and trying to come up with a scenario in which this works, in which he can have you in his life and also a child and be the red hood because he can't stop thinking about you

so then he just says fuck it and the next morning he shows up at your office with flowers and a puppy stuffed animal and finally asks you out

[prettyboykatsuki]

chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

[quarterlifekitty]

first, im a bit new to cod but idk…

thinking about ghost’s spouse visiting him on base or some shit, and everyone else wondering how tf he was emotionally flexible enough to bag a bad bitch 🫶

note: this is just my personal little fantasy world headcanon lol so take it with a grain of salt!

Simon maintains a vaguely human lifestyle by adhering to one very strict rule: rigid compartmentalization. You don’t come up at work, and work doesn’t come up around you. Never the twain shall meet, he thinks. And he’s not exactly a watershed of information when he’s with his mates. And it’s not like anyone is asking “When was the last time you got fucked, Ghost?” and seriously expecting a response.

He tells you about the crew, but not about what he does with them. Killing, espionage, torture– that kind of thing stays off the dinner table.

Let it be known that you do not surprise him at work. You respect his boundaries too much, which is why he’s so fucking serious about you, honestly. He calls, asking if you can run something to him. This is maybe the greatest symbol of trust he can bestow, as a man who has only a fraction of an existence in the eyes of the government: he asks you to bring a document of his. He gives you the instructions on how to find it, and trusts that you won’t look at anything you don’t have to.

You know Johnny lets out a low whistle when he sees you coming up with a manilla folder in your hands.

“Who’s that bloody bombshell, then?”

You spy Simon and jog up to him with a smile. He’s the one who embraces you, short but strong. Cue the nigh audible gasping.

“LT, you absolute dog.”

Simon rolls his eyes as the two of you are crowded in short order. You make polite introductions, but have a previous engagement– you really did only have time to stop by.

Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.

Everyone is wondering how this could’ve happened. For the record– I think in this scenario, Johnny and Gaz go through a constant string of heartbreaks, and John is kinda married to his job. So in a cruel twist of fate, Simon is actually the only one currently with a partner, much less a spouse.

“How’d you manage to bag a right beauty like that, LT? C’mon, spill it–”

Simon doesn’t mean to diminish your value or anything, but his answer is not going to be satisfying, because he doesn’t find it that difficult to get women. And also, you’re his true love, so you’re perfect for each other and growing close to you was as easy as breathing. But he doesn’t say that.

“S’not that hard. Remember the stuff she says, don’t keep no secrets… dick ‘er down the way she likes.” He doesn’t mean to be crude about it, but from his perspective, is one of the main reasons why you tolerate him. Soap howls at the response.

He’s telling the truth, though! He has a scarily good memory. Remembers every friend you’ve ever told him about, every movie you’ve ever mentioned, every meal he’s cooked for you and how you liked it. He remembers dates, times, and lists with no issue whatsoever.

And he’s never kept anything from you. He tells you how the fuck he’s feeling, and you return the favor, even if it isn’t pleasant. The only thing he doesn’t mention to you are the gorey details of his work.

And you have never had more of a communicative partner, ironically. There were times in the beginning when he didn’t know all of the ins and outs of coaxing pleasure from your body, so he asked you to show him how you like it. And that scary memory is at work yet again– every sensitive spot, every offhand mention of a kink you’ve not yet explored together, every arch of your spine and clench of your cunt. He’s got it down to a science. Could write novels about making love to you specifically.

What I’m trying to say, at the end of the day, is that Ghost bagged a bad bitch by being autistic.

[fishnapple]

Your successful qualities

Let's find out what qualities do you possess that can make you successful on your chosen path ✨️

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

YELLOW

You have qualities that would make you a person of the people. You have a high level of emotional intelligence and charm that make it easy for you to dive into people's hearts. The chief element that will contribute to your success is how you connect with people. You know how to express your feelings in a calm and soothing way, people feel accepted and nurtured through the interactions with you and your presence. You care a lot about other's comfort. You intuitively understand what the other person wants without them having to voice it out. This is especially helpful when you are assigned a task or when you assign a task to other people. You know how to complete the task in the way that the other person wants and you also know what the other person is capable of, what is their working style, so you can give them suitable task and instruction. You also have the ability to pacify and harmonise difficult situations. Which are qualities that are very much needed when dealing with customers or working in employee relations. But if you're not careful, people's dependency and over demanding could be a problem. Dealing constantly with people's problems can drain your energy really fast. Also, when there are many people expecting something from you, a desire to please, to be helpful and perfect in your job, can become a burden for you. The downside of being in tune with others is that you're entangled with them, it would be hard to act independently.

What makes you popular with people is not just your aura or your caring and pleasant nature. It's also your communication skills. You have the gift of the gab, striking a balance between being funny and wise. Your humour can diffuse tense situations and your knowledge and wisdom can guide you through the intricate system of socialising, never appearing too jesting nor too serious. You can grasp abstract concepts easily and then explain them back in a simple to understand way, this ability will make you a great teacher or a supervisor or someone who needs to present their ideas to a mass. You also can turn those ideas into reality, ideas don't just stay in your head, you pull them out and mould them into solid existences. When you encounter new information or foreign topics, you don't shy away from them but revel in the process of analysing, understanding and absorbing that information. So new job, new position, new opportunities don't faze you, your adaptability is one of your biggest talents.

What can make you successful is your drive for success, it's very simple. As long as you have the desire to succeed in anything you do, you can achieve it, with patience, diligence but also a flash of genius. You are an innovative pioneer, you follow your own rules, and this will attract people and opportunities to you.

BLACK

This may sound corny but it's your heart and passion. As you can see in the picture above, the "heart" bead landed right next to the "sun" bead at the centre. It's just that simple. Your heart shines so brightly that it can attract success. The more you're in alignment with yourself, the better the chance for you to shine and soar. Self alignment can mean various things, self awareness, self compassion, self expansion, all the things that make you become clearer about yourself. In doing so, you can understand your strengths and weaknesses with an objective lens, develop a healthy ego to navigate the world and stand up for yourself, utilise your potentials fully and have a better vision of what you want out of your life (this sounds like an ad for self improvement program)

You being you, truthfully, unapologetically, without any shadow nor hiding, will make everything you strive for easier to grasp. Right now, you might have some fears about expressing yourself fully, showing your creative side, which is precious and a huge treasure. You don't want to be an outcast, being labelled as weird or individualistic. You might have a perfectionist living inside you, constantly criticising and questioning your every move and attempt at doing something creative. Maybe you don't feel confident enough, still thinking that you lack skills or you look at other people and see them getting busy and successful, you begin to doubt your resolution and your ability, no amount of practice is enough in your eyes. This line of thinking is really detrimental to your growth. Looking at other people for inspiration is fine but it can become an obsession, taking other's success as goals to achieve, while ignoring your own brilliance. There's something you need to know, that you don't have to be applauded by a crowd to prove that you're talented and worthy. You will find that, by being yourself and sharing your creativity, slowly and surely, there will be people who appreciate your work, even if they are not the mainstream crowd.

On the subject of the crowd, this group has a bit of similarity with the first group, in the ability to connect with people. But unlike group one, who uses their charm and verbal ability to harmonise and attract people, yours is more about your ability to get into the hearts of other people, through your sensitivity and kindness. This group's soul is like one of the artists. Beauty moves your heart, you see beauty in everything, down to their core, this kind of ardent appreciation will spread to your surroundings, the people around you. It's like you have a subconscious ability to beautify everything, making things softer, more tender, more kind. Don't hide this part of yours, the more you're willing to be transparent and spiritually "naked", the more joy and success will come into your life, for you will be the pure vessel that the universe will pour into endlessly.

GREEN

The quality that stands out the most is your ability to accept and commit to changes, whether those changes are about yourself, your environment, or other outside factors. It's not that you actively seek chaos or transformation just for the sake of shaking things up, but when changes come to you, you don't cower and complain, you accept them and try to find the best possible solution to deal with them, no matter how scared and uncomfortable you feel inside. It's this kind of courage that will help you sail through the ups and downs in life without being sunken and defeated by them.

When you feel afraid or anxious, uneasy in your mind, you actively try to find a solution, a different route of thinking to get out of that unproductive thinking mode. Sometimes you would even seek the very things that make you afraid, to learn more about them, to gain an understanding and to broaden your perspective. When your heart feels weak, you still believe in a better future. In doing so, you attract luck to your side. You would find that whenever you're in a difficult situation, if you keep your faith and your mind open, new understanding and support will come your way, helping you regain stability and inner peace again. Your heart is resilient, even though it might have suffered painful wounds in the past, it still remains optimistic and tries to break away from the clutch of the past. So you don't easily give up when there are hardship and setbacks in your endeavour. Your mind also can think up really out of the box ideas, great innovative ideas that can bring changes to the community, and the society you're in, as long as you give your mind total freedom.

With your resilient heart, your outward aura is very stable and solid, very sure of yourself. You have good self-control, from your body to your mind and your heart. Dark thoughts won't be able to stay in your mind for long, you exercise firm authority on them, not allowing them to sabotage you. Sometimes you can be in a melancholic mood, feeling hopeless or too weary, but you know how to get out of it, centering yourself to the physical reality around you, taking care of yourself and reaffirming your core values. You know how to offset the dark with light, the cold with warmth. When you're stressed, you might choose to do something physical or appreciate the beauty around you, bringing you back to simple happiness. This again points to the sturdiness of your core. You don't seek external validations or nourishment from others, you nourish yourself and shine your own light, you're not the moon waiting for other light to illuminate you and reflecting back that light, you are the sun that give out your light and illuminate others. This self containment, or independence will make you a great leader, or someone who can work independently, actually, any positive won't be daunting to you at all. You can take on lots of stress, not to say that you should, but when working or doing something under pressure, you can still manage the load and work efficiently.

BLUE

Life seems like a never-ending adventure to you. You're not meant to stay in one place, be contented with "normal" life, "normal" means what everyone thinks how life should be, not for you, you're a traveller, a seafarer, constantly following the flow of life. The fluidity of your energy enables you to navigate life situations with grace and ease, not that you're trouble-free or everything is smooth sailing all the time, but you don't get stuck. If you ever find yourself in a predicament, you don't sit and complain, asking why misfortune befell you, you try to find all the information you can get, the lesson you can learn, the most positive outcome and the most opportune moment to turn misfortune into your advantage, rising again, stronger and wiser. You have keen eyes that can notice opportunities from miles away and an open heart that can welcome those opportunities, which makes you seem like a very lucky person to the onlookers.

Your mind is your greatest asset that can make you rise in this world. You don't let valuable information slip through your mind, you examine it with curiosity and intense focus, extract from it the essence that can be used for the future. Your mind is not just geared with sheer laser focus, but also an ability for intuitive abstract thinking, it reminds me of genius, how it can weave all the bits of information into a fantastical picture. If something captured your attention, you would dive deeply into it, try to understand its core. This makes you an excellent researcher or someone who can do works that require focus and resilience. You can also read people accurately right from the first few exchanges and can adjust your approach accordingly. It's not about people pleasing, charming people to get your way, it's tact and understanding, thesr traits will make you greatly attractive, not just on one on one level but also on a bigger scale, in a professional environment or when you need to address a crowd.

Your energy is very balanced between masculine and feminine energy. It's both nurturing and authoritative. Drive and intuition, active and passive, strong yet soft. You shine but you also let others shine too, you don't steal other's light, if anything, you help them shine even brighter. Being with you makes people feel safe, at ease. You allow people to be themselves without ridicule or judgement. But you can also firmly lead people, giving them guidance and security. You can be serious but not rigid and cold, you can be chatty without being superficial, charming without hidden motives. These traits would develop gradually over the years, you will find that as you get older, you'll be more sure of yourself and more confident in front of people, stepping into your authority more, like growing a tree for many years and finally you can enjoy the sweet fruits.

WHITE

Right of the bat, the word "refreshing" came to my mind. You have a unique take on everything, from the most trivial matters to the worldly philosophical thoughts that you have, everything is different from the usual way many people are used to. People would definitely want to come to you when they're stuck in a problem and uninspired, they know that you will always have something unique to say to them, making them more aware of hidden aspects at play and a fresh solution. Problem solving could be one of your greatest skills. But it's not the logical, factual thinking that is usually associated with problem solving, it's highly intuitive. Your mind hovers between the collective thinking and the individual paths each person can have, you can synthesise those two worlds into an abstract thinking system that can get hold of information seemingly out of thin air and mix and match them together flexibly. You instinctively understand what people want and you deliver it, with a new twist. Your ideas are the road to manifest whatever your wishes are.

Not just mentally, but emotionally, you also express yourself truthfully, without trivialise other's emotions or making them feel ignored. You respect emotions, both of yourself and of others, creating an emotionally safe space that can foster trust. Commerce and sales might be the areas where you can express that strong point. Your emotional intelligence also adds charm to your physical appeal. You know how people always praise the eyes that are full of emotions and light? When you're in touch with emotions, your eyes show, and they beckon people to them. Your manner, your aura shows a charm that is real and earthy, nothing elusive or deceptive about it, like walking in an actual orchard instead of looking at it from a picture. You can see, touch, smell, hear all the things happening around you.

You also rarely judge people, if you do, it's not harsh or too triggering. You adopt the mentality of going with the flow, live and let live. You don't demand from people, other than respect for your boundaries and privacy, which you value above all else. Other than those, you let people live their way without imposing your beliefs on them. This open-minded attitude is very important when you're working in a team, you provide ideas, but you likely don't want to control and lead people. Though you could find yourself in the leader position often simply because the one with the good ideas usually is nominated to be the leader. You're fine working for others. But if you're in a leadership, you lead with leniency, allowing enough rooms for individuality to shine.

This might be a bit random, but you can be a good cook or a good decorator. If you're tasked with decorating an event or a living space, or just making anything aesthetically pleasing, you'll be surprised how positive people's receptions are. If this is not something you're aware of about yourself, you should pay more attention to it and develop it, it can open new career opportunities for you.

RED

There's a method to your madness, not that I'm saying you're mad or crazy, but you can think up some outlandish and original ideas, a little bit "out there". What people don't understand is that behind all those seemingly random and genius ideas is a very disciplined spirit. There's logic and sound reasons behind your every action. What people perceived were just the puppets playing on the stage, they didn't see the puppeteer controlling the puppets. Every action and word require fine skill, but you have the ability to make them seem effortless. Your mind is like the sky during a thunderstorm, thoughts and ideas zigzagging, making flashes that blind the eyes. What you say can be very spontaneous or somewhat irrelevant at first glance, but thinking deeper, people can't help but marvel. You might also have a knack of predicting the trends, always one step ahead. Creative careers of course would be very suitable for you, but you can also find success in predictive analytics or education. Your words need to be delivered to the world, they're your greatest contributions.

You have an air of feeling at ease with wherever places you're. You might be someone doing an independent freelance job, but then if suddenly, you're to be placed in the position of leadership or a completely different job, you wouldn't be fazed by it, you go into it as if it's the most natural thing to do, as if you've done this a million times. This air of confidence and ease makes people want to give you opportunities, to trust you with important tasks and jobs.

When you're faced with an unfamiliar subject, you would patiently deconstruct it into an understandable structure. There's an intense focus being put on it, not just to understand it but to master it. To be the object of your focus would akin to being scrutinised and studied by a scientist. You can be a quite obsessive and hyper focused when you're interested in something. Especially when you want to achieve a goal or possess something, you go with all your might, there's no fear, no hang-up involved, because you're not afraid to be judged. Your inner drive roots in the ideal vision you seek, not in simple egotistical desires like wanting to be recognised or praised. You might actually shun publicity or attention, because attention can curb your freedom, which is what you seek and value the most. So you're fine with working behind the screen, as long as you can achieve your goals, and those goals are usually about advancement and improvement of something that can benefit the collective.

[cherrycocaineee]

42. The Firefighter and the Nurse - Toji Fushiguro

*Synopsis: Toji is a firefighter; strong, handsome, calloused, and scarred. You are a nurse who works a lot of shifts and doesn't make time for yourself due to your hectic schedule. You meet Toji after he inhales a bit too much of the smoke from a fire he rescued a child from. Toji's a shameless flirt, and he can't help himself around such a pretty nurse that's 10 years his age difference.*

*Warning: age gap, smut, 18+, MDNI. Everyone is of legal age. Use of Y/N. Size kink, Toji is significantly bigger (no matter your true size, Toji is bigger lol.) Dirty talk, hair pulling, spitting. Toji shows you how to take care of yourself since you're stressed and overworked. It's important. A bar scene. Whatever else is considered a warning.*

The hospital was busier than normal; there had been a fire at an apartment building and lots of the people who had gotten caught in it had made a beeline for the hospital to make sure they and their children were okay. You were standing at the receptionist's desk overlooking some papers on your clipboard; you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. There was a dull ache in the bottom of your feet from being on them all day; a twelve hour shift now turning into a twenty hour shift.

"Y/N, exam room 3 has a patient in need of his oxygen tank changed. He breathed in a bit too much smoke from the smoke rescuing a kid from the burning apartment.” Dr. Holloway informed you.

Giving Dr. Holloway a quick nod, you set down the clipboard in your hand and approached exam room 3. The clipboard to the patient hangs inside the clear folder beside the door. You pick it up, reading the patient's name: Toji Fushiguro. Also listed on the paper was that he was a firefighter. You opened the door and went inside, the door clicked behind you. Sitting in one of the cushioned chairs was a very, VERY large man with green eyes, black hair, and a scar on his full lips. He was very handsome; actually the best way to describe the man sitting before you was that he mimicked a Greek God.

"Mr. Fushiguro,” your voice pulling him from whatever he was thinking of. "I'm Nurse Y/N, I'm here to check on your oxygen tank and oxygen levels.”

Toji grins up at you. "Might need another one since they sent me such a pretty, little nurse.”

A shameless flirt.

Your stomach instantly feels like it has a million butterflies in it, a soft blush forming on your cheeks. You mentally shake your head, reminding yourself to remain professional. There were still a lot of other patients who needed you to focus. So you smile, pushing away the butterflies that have been released in your stomach, and approach him.

"Noted,” your voice is gentle but there's a hint of amusement laced in it. You take off the oxygen mask that's on his face then set it on the table beside y'all. "Can you sit up for me, Mr. Fushiguro?”

"Call me Toji.” He says, his voice still gravelly; he definitely needed some water. Toji leans forward as you put on your stethoscope. Once it's positioned properly on your ears, you place the metal piece on Toji's back.

"Deep breath for me, Toji.”

The sound of his name leaving your perfectly glossed lips sent a wave of arousal through his body. His name has never sounded better. Toji takes a deep breath in as you instructed.

"Now, slowly exhale.”

As Toji exhales the big breath he just inhaled, you listen to his lungs for any sounds like crackling or wheezing. There is a faint crackle. You pull the stethoscope off and step back.

"There is a faint crackle in your lungs,” you inform him. "I'm going to hook you up to a second oxygen tank. We'll start with half a tank first and give you the rest if the crackling is still there.”

"Sounds good to me, mamas.” Toji says, leaning back in his chair.

Once making sure he's comfortable, you head out to fetch him a new oxygen tank and some water. You return shortly with a cup of iced water and a full oxygen tank. You hand Toji the styrofoam cup.

"Here, drink this. I'm sure you're parched after being inside that fire.”

It's almost comical watching his large, calloused hand wrap around the tiny styrofoam cup. The clear liquid sloshed around as he pulled it up to his scarred lips. While Toji chugs the water you gave him, you hook up his new tank, connecting it to the oxygen mask. Once he placed the cup down, you secured the mask on to his face. Tojl takes several deep breaths that seem to relieve some stress.

"So, what's it like to be a nurse?” He asks as he begins to relax.

"Long shifts. Most nights or mornings when I go home I immediately crash out for hours. However, helping save lives makes it all worth it.” You answer, filling out his chart again. "What's it like being a firefighter?”

"Dangerous. Some days are worse than others but it's exhilarating. I wouldn't have it any other way.” Toji grins.

Toji's grin seems almost feral, like he gets off the extreme danger that he faces every day. You look up at him.

"How do you get rid of all the stress when you got home at the end of the day?” You're genuinely curious since relaxing outside of sleeping has never been your strong suit. You can't even remember the last time you've gone out with friends, had a date, or brought someone home with you for unattached sex.

Toji’s broad, muscular shoulders lift as he shrugs but there's an amused smile on his face.

“Suppose the same way any man in his 30's does. Going out to a bar, drinking, and dirty sex.”

You weren't expecting that answer… or well, you weren't expecting him to be so honest about his bedroom activities. There's a smirk on Toji's face as if he can read the shock on your face. He probably can, he seems to be able to read you loud and clear. You clear your throat.

"What, uhm, what bar would you recommend in the area?” You asked, desperate to move the conversation in a different direction.

A deep chuckle, almost a husky sound, flutters from Toji's chest.

"The bar on 52nd. O'Hannigans. Plan on stopping by?”

"If I manage to find the time.”

"Sweetheart, you can't find time, you have to make it. Sometimes it's good to prioritize yourself. The two of us see a lot of fucking shit in our line of work; nice to go out and treat yourself once in a blue moon.”

Sounds awfully unlike him. You can't imagine him being this…well rounded.

"Plus, if you do manage to get yourself to that bar, I might just get a chance to have you in my bed…begging.”

Okay, that seems more like Toji even if you've only known him for an hour. And now you can't help the rushing heat engulfing your cheeks. He's inappropriate; makes it difficult to do your job.

"Bold of you to assume I'd let you take me home.” You counter, hoping the blush on your face wasn't too noticeable.

Toji grins, it's somehow more feral. “I mean we can definitely fuck around in the bathroom, doll. Doesn't really matter to me as long as I get to hear what pretty sounds you can make.”

You can't help smack his muscular arm; Toji chuckles, unfazed.

Eventually Toji is all better and ready to return to his job. You instructed him to be careful and not over exert himself, you didn't want the crackling in his lungs to return because he prematurely ran into another fire. As Toji makes his way to the door, he stops and leans down, his scarred lips almost brushing against your ear.

"See ya, doll." he gruffs out, "hope you don't keep me waiting too long. Dying to get my hands on this pretty fucking body.”

Before you're able to reply with some sarcastic, uninterested response, Toji leaves with a very cocky smirk displayed on his face like he won a prize. You huff softly, clutching your paperwork to your chest. Pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, you watch Toji disappear before resuming your shift.

After your twenty hour shift, you went home and crashed like you knew you would. You didn't even change out of your scrubs or shower, just collapsed on your bed and passed out. Fortunately you were off today, so when you woke up you'd be able to do whatever you wanted to do. When you woke up, you had completely forgotten your conversation about O'Hannigans with Toji while you treated him until you saw a commercial on the television. It was just a little after six in the afternoon, not too late to go out but a part of you didn't want to go out tonight. Whether it was because you were tired or because you were afraid of seeing Toji again. He had caused a stir in your body that you've been ignoring.

However, you convinced yourself that you deserve a drink or two; so you pull yourself together and shower before getting dressed into something cute and cozy. You wore a pair of casual skinny jeans and a pale pink, long-sleeve, tight-fitted shirt.

The bar was packed when you got there, you almost turned around and went home. You sat at the end of the dimly lit bar away from everyone. You wished you could say you didn't look for Toji but you did. Your eyes scanned the crowded bar looking for the incredibly large man you treated in the hospital. You find him, it isn't hard either because he stands out like a sore thumb. He's sitting at a booth by himself drinking a glass of whiskey. You look away from him and towards the bartender who approaches you; you settle on a regular beer. Not exactly your favorite but it'll do. You drank alone, keeping your eyes ahead not wanting to stare at Toji or anyone too long.

"Must be my lucky fucking day,” a gruff voice said as Toji slid into the stool beside you. "Nurse Y/N, wasn't expecting you to actually come to O'Hannigans.”

"Well, it's like you said," you hum quietly, "gotta make time for yourself because time won't.”

He grinned while taking a long drink of his whiskey. You run your fingers through your hair, smiling as you take a drink of your beer. Toji looked at you again, but this time, he really looked at your taking in every curve, every rise and fall of your chest, every single move. He couldn't wait to get his fucking hands on you, if you'll let him.

So, you gonna take me up on my offer or do I gotta get on my knees?” Toji asks, meeting your gaze.

"What offer?" You inquire, crossing one leg over the other.

Toji grinned wider, "The one where I offered to take your pretty, little body home and taste ya.”

A deep blush crept up your neck and coated your face turning you as red as a tomato. He chuckles, loving the way you react to his shameless flirting. You swallow thickly. It's been such a long time since you indulged in pleasure, always so busy with nursing and saving lives; it was easy to say you placed your sex life on the back burner. Once again, you push the fallen strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I'm flattered, Tojl, but honestly I'm probably no good at it anymore. Been quite a while since I indulged.” The best thing you could do was be honest that you've lost your touch when it came to bedroom magic.

"You're telling that a girl like you can't manage to get some dick every once in a while?” Toji asked.

You roll your eyes. "It's not that I can't get laid. I've just been too busy so I've neglected that part of myself to focus on being a nurse.”

Toji chuckled as he gulped down another mouthful of whiskey. "Poor girl. You must really need a stress reliever.”

Maybe you did. Maybe Toji could be the one to help you find some type of stress relief. It was a very tempting offer especially considering Toji looked the way he did. You could almost drool at the sight of him; imagining his large body covering yours as he pounded into you. It was a dream come true that he was offering. Toji grinned at the way you were staring at him.

"C'mon doll, I can see the way you're looking at me. You want me just as bad as I want you. Don't fight it, come home with me tonight.”

You take another gulp of your beer while looking into his very sexy green eyes. You set the beer bottle down with a quiet thud.

“I suppose one night can't hurt.” You whispered.

He groans lowly, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. "Such a good little girl.”

Toji took his wallet out of his back pocket and paid for both y'all's drinks before grabbing your wrist and hauling you to your feet. The two of you made your way out of the bar and to Toji’s vehicle. You look at him skeptically, questioning whether or not he was sober enough to drive. Toji looked down at you, smirking.

"Don't worry your pretty, little head, doll. One glass of whiskey is nowhere near enough to intoxicate me.”

Relief washes over you before you climb into the passenger's seat.

Toji doesn't waste any time as soon as the two of you arrive at his apartment and walk through the front door. Immediately, he lifts you up with one arm and pins you against the nearest wall, then smashes his lips against yours in a hungry, passionate, sloppy kiss. Toji digs his fingers into your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his black hair. It's softer than it looks, and you can't help but tighten your fingers. Toji growls in pleasure as he pulls your bottom lip with his teeth before shoving his tongue between your pretty lips. He held you easily, like you didn't weigh a damn thing.

As y'all's lips moved in sync, Toji moved his hands from your thighs and pulled off the shirt you had on to reveal the cute bra you had decided to wear. It pushed your breast up nicely and the slightest jostle caused your breast to jiggle. Toji buried his face into your cleavage, groaning at the feeling of your soft, plushy boobs against his bare skin. He ran his tongue up the valley of your chest, eliciting a moan from you that went straight to his cock. Another growl leaves his throat; his fingers worked expertly fast as he undid your bra. You could tell he wasn't new at this. Once your bra hit the ground next to your discarded shirt, Tojl removed his own shirt then captured one of your hardened nipples in his mouth. Your back arches on the wall you're pinned against, a moan filling the space around y'all.

"Fuckin’ perfect body.” Toji grins against your breasts. He looks up at you with those striking green eyes as he runs his pink tongue over your flesh. He runs his tongue up the valley between your boobs again, moving it to your neck and jawline. His hot breath hits your ear as he undoes the buttons and zipper on your jeans. "So fuckin’ pretty. Look at you ~ I bet you're already soaked beneath these cute little clothes of yours, huh? Bet that gorgeous cunt is just dripping for me, doll.”

A light whimper leaves your lips; you were definitely aroused, definitely soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Toji grins at your whimper. He pulls off your jeans in one swift motion revealing your panties; the thin lacy fabric hugs your hips but what really catches his attention is the growing wet spot between your legs. Toji fell to his knees in front of you. He buried his face into the wet spot of your panties causing you to gasp; he inhaled your arousal and let out a deep groan. Your scent was like heaven to the huge, muscular man in front of you.

"Ya smell fuckin’ divine too.” He grumbles, causing you to instinctively push your thighs together.

Toji growls, his eyes narrowing up at your flushed face. Hauling you up, Toji carried you into the kitchen and set you down on the counter. Toji grabbed your throat, his callouses rough against your neck, then shoved his lips onto yours. The kiss is messy and heated; as the two of you kiss, he spreads your legs before ripping off your panties. The fabric is nothing more than shreds.

"Don't ever…and I mean ever…close those pretty fucking thighs as I'm tryin’ to worship that little pussy again,” Toji growls against your lips.

You nod your head, your eyes glassy with arousal. The cold air from his air conditioner lightly touches your soaked core now that he's got you completely exposed in front of him. Trji steps back, taking in the sight of your dripping cunt. Your arousal was starting to pool onto his countertop. Toji grins as he pulls a chair towards him and sits. You're confused.

"Show me how you pleasure yourself, mamas.” He says.

Embarrassment shrouds your glistening eyes. You've never touched yourself or played with yourself in front of anyone before, but the look in Toji’s eyes told you he wasn't going to change his mind. He wanted to watch you play with your pussy. swallowing thickly, you ran your middle fingers over your wet slit. Your thighs tremble from even the smallest amount of pleasure; it's been such a long time since you touched yourself too, always busy working. Toji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares holes into you with those gorgeous green eyes. You swallow again.

"It's been a l-long time since I've touched myself,” you admit for some reason. All logic goes out the window when he looks at you.

Toji clicks his tongue as he shakes his head and stands up. You watch him as he approaches you, but his eyes are glued to your neglected pussy.

"A cunt this gorgeous should never be neglected, Y/N,” Toji scolds.

"It isn't like I've meant to,” you defend. "I'm just busy.”

It doesn't really seem like he's interested in your excuses. Instead, he removes your hand from your pussy then smacks your cunt causing a wet smacking sound. You yelp, your body jumping from the sudden impact; your thighs tremble from the pleasure.

"T-Toji…”

"Hush it girl.” He grumbles out causing you to whimper. "All I wanna hear from you are those cute moans as I make you feel good. Otherwise, I only wanna hear this pretty pussy tell me what she's craving!”

With that, Toji delivers another sharp, wet slap against your soft folds. A moan slips through your lips and your toes curl. Toji grins like he's found a gold mine.

"Good girl.”

Toji spits on your pussy before using his thick fingers to rub his saliva in with four juices. Your eyes flutter close and you moan. Toji looks up at your face taking in the pleasure ridden look you wore. He continues to massage your folds and clit before slipping his middle finger into your clenching hole.

"Holy shit.” You moan out, clenching around the singular digit.

"That's it, mamas.” Toji purrs, curling his finger up into that sweet spot. "Needy, little pussy. she's trying to suck me in.”

Another Moan leaves your glossy lips as you raise your hips to push Toji's finger deeper inside you. Toji chuckles, huskily as he watches you. He pulls his finger out before pushing it back in. There's a light squelching sound as he pushes his finger deeper inside you; your juices coat his knuckles as he continues to finger you with his middle finger. Your legs fall further apart in a welcoming gesture which Toji uses to slip a second finger into your tight hole. Another string of moans and whimpers leave your lips; your eyes were trained on his hand as he continued to fuck your cunt with his thick fingers. Toji used his other hand to grab your chin forcing you to look at him as he moved his fingers, his hand moving faster.

"Eyes on me, darlin'. Look at the man who's makin‘ ya come undone.” He chuckles.

Your toes curl, and you can feel your orgasm approaching you quickly; your eyes stay locked on his.

"It f-feels so good, T-Toji.” You mewled out.

"I know, baby.” he grins, speeding his fingers up. The squelching grows a bit as your orgasm teeters on the edge of exploding or staying at bay so you can enjoy the pleasure some more. "Come on, baby. Fucking cum for me, doll.”

Light pants leave your slightly parted lips. Sweat was coating your naked body. Toji curled his fingers inside you again and that pushed you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back. Noticing your orgasm coming, Toji moved his fingers faster. You reached your hand up and grabbed his shirt. Your nails graze his muscular body through the fabric as you cum. Toji disappeared from view as you see white from the intensity of your orgasm.

"Oh my God!” You screamed out, rolling your head back until you were facing the ceiling in his kitchen.

"Good fucking girl.” Toji growls; he pulls his fingers from inside you then brings them up to his lips. He wraps his lips around his fingers, tasting your cum. A deep, husky groan leaves his lips as you watch him. The taste of your cum on his tongue is addicting like cocaine is to a drug addict or alcohol is to an alcoholic. He licked your juices off completely before pulling them out, his saliva replacing your cum. With the same hand, he grabs your chin and forces his lips on yours again. The taste of yourself coating your own tongue as he swaps spit with you one more.

When the two of you pull away from each other, Toji pulls you off the counter by your wrist and forces you down to your knees by pushing on your shoulder. As you position yourself properly on your knees in front of him, he undoes his belt and jeans pulling out the longest and thickest cock you've ever seen. Your eyes widen slightly at the sheer size of him. Toji guides his cock to your lips, tapping the angry red tip against your lips. You could take his thick precum that he dabbed onto your lips, your tongue darting out to taste the salty substance. Toji chuckles.

"Open up, doll.”

He doesn't have to tell you twice, your mouth instantly falling open. Toji pushes the tip of his cock into your mouth, a deep groan leaving his lips as soon as he feels your tongue brushing against the slit that was thinly coated in his precum. His breathing started getting heavier with each inch that he continued to push past your lips. Toji's eyes were hooded with lust.

"Wider, Y/N.” He's demanding when he uses your first name.

You open your mouth wider for him and he pushes his cock deeper into your mouth. He tangles his fingers into your hair, guiding your head further down until your nose is pressed against his neatly trimmed, black pubic hair. The hair tickles your nose causing your face to scrunch up a bit to stop the tickling. Toji throws his head back, his hands tightening in your hair as a deep groan leaves his lips.

"Goddamn,” He groans out; his vision blurred with spots of white from the pleasure. "Tight fuckin’ throat, doll,”

Toji pulls his hips back, a soft gasp hitting you as you take a deep breath in just in time as he slams his hips forward again. His large cock being swallowed by your throat; out of reflex, you swallow around him making your throat constrict around him. Toji lets out another groan as he starts moving his hips to fuck your pretty, little mouth. With hooded eyes, Toji stares down at you, watching your glossy, spit covered lips stretch to accommodate his size. You hummed and moaned around him causing his hips to buck forward completely out of rhythm.

"That's it. Fuckin' take it. Open wider ~” Toji draws out, one hand leaving your hair to grip your jaw wanting you to loosen up a bit. You relaxed your throat and jaw, letting your jaw go slack so you could open wider for him. There are tears glistening in your eyes from the stretch your throat and jaw had to endure to fit him. It isn't painful, in fact, you're loving it. Toji growls deep in his throat as he begins to move faster.

"Just like that, doll,” Toji pants out, never stopping his movements. His hand is tightening in your hair as he wraps the strands into his balled up fist. He uses it to his advantage, guiding you on his dick harshly. "Gonna make me cum, fuck, doll.”

A swell of pride blossoms in your chest as he declares that he's about to cum. Saliva drips down your chin as your mouth waters at the thought of swallowing his cum.

"Eager slut.” Toji grins, his abs clenching; he can tell from the drooling and the desperate look on your face that you want to taste his cum. You whine around him. "All of it, ya hear me? I want ya to drink all of it, don't waste a single fucking drop.”

As soon as you nod that pretty head for him, Toji shoves his cock down your throat one last time before thick ropes of cum glide down your throat. Because you want to impress him, you swallow every last drop. He grins. "Perfect little slut.” Toji pants.

He doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. Instead, he hauls you to your feet and kisses you again. The taste of your saliva and his cum coating his taste buds. Toji picks you up, securing your legs around his muscular body, then carries you to his bedroom. Your body bounces as Toji tosses you down onto his bed; he rips his shirt off completely revealing his attractive body littered with scars from being a firefighter. Now Toji is completely naked just like you. You keep yourself propped up with your elbows staring at his incredible body. Toji crawls into the bed and on top of you; he's now towering over you with his famous grin plastered on his face. Your chest rises and falls heavily from arousal and exertion but you don't want this night to end. Toji pushes your knees to your chest, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, as he pushes you into the meanest mating press you've ever experienced. This position left you feeling exposed and completely opened for him but that was the point. Toji pushes his hard body against yours, effectively pinning you down. He drags the tip of his still bulging cock against your wet folds; your body trembles beneath his.

With no warning, Toji slams into you with one powerful thrust that makes you see stars instantly. Your tight cunt clenching around him causes you to feel every part of his cock dragging along your inner walls. You dig your nails into his biceps that are caging you in.

"Oh fuck!” You cry out.

Toji keeps up the brutal pace; pulling out almost all the way before slamming right back into your tight cunt. His eyes never leave your face, watching pleasure contort your delicate features as he fucks you. The mixture of sounds coming from you…the squelching from your lewd cunt as well as your needy moans…only serve to spur him on further. Toji's heavy thighs smacked against the underside of your thighs filling his bedroom with the sound of skin hitting against skin. Each thrust causes your quivering, dripping pussy to clench tighter around him earning a satisfied grunt.

"Oh God, T-Toji,” you manage to mran out.

Toji slams into you faster, harder, his entire bed smacking against the wall from how hard he's going.

"Bet you're fucking loving this,” Toji grunts out. "Probably been waiting for someone to properly fuck this tight pussy, huh? Neglectin’ something so damn perfect because you were 'busy’ but really, you just needed a real man to fuck you, right, ma?”

A moan leaves your lips, eyes rolled back as he keeps drilling his cock into you. You swear you can feel him touching your cervix but you're unsure.

"W-was busy.” You protest with a lewd whimper.

"Can never be too busy to--fucking hell--to take care of this perfect fucking pussy.” Toji growls, his hips smacking recklessly against the back of your thighs. "But don't you worry your slutty, little head…I'll give you just want ya need.”

Toji, keeping you pinned into a lewd mating press, snakes his hand into your hair fisting the soft strands as he grips your neck with the other hand as his hips move faster. Your eyes watered as tears slipped down your face.

"Oh my fucking God!” You screamed out; pleasure rippling through your entire body. Your thighs tremble with each smack from his own hips and thighs. "Right t-there! Fuck!

His cock drags against your velvety walls. Toji grunts, his teeth clench as a string of curses leave his lips.

“Atta fucking girl.Takin’ this dick like a real pro.” Toji grumbles horsley; his already deep, gravelly voice even deeper. Toji pulled his cock all the way out before roughly slamming into your dripping heat again. The sudden thrust caused your sloppy pussy to clench around his cock. Toji yanked your hair harder so that you were making eye contact with him. He wanted to stare into your glistening eyes as you came on his cock.

Toji released your throat and gave your spit covered cheek a smack, not enough to hurt you. However, when Toji smacked your cheek, your pussy fluttered around him. Toji grinned.

"Slutty girl,” he groaned, smacking your face again, "Slutty, little girl. Love gettin’ smacked too, huh? Slutty fucking bitch loves getting manhandled.”

Your eyes rolled back. "Toji ~ I'm gonna…c-cum.” You slur out, the pleasure making you feel drunk.

"H-hold it,” Toji growls out in a stutter, grinding his hips against yours while continuing to pound into you vigorously. He didn't want this to end, knowing that as soon as you finished he'd be right there behind you filling you with his load.

You whined desperately, it became increasingly difficult to hold back your much needed orgasm as Toji continued to slam into that perfect spot. Toji knew what he was doing, he knew he was making it practically impossible for you to hold your orgasm in like he had demanded.

"Toji p-please!” You begged, your impending orgasm causing your toes to curl. Drool dripped down your chin, your glossy lips parted. Toji hooked his thick, calloused thumb on your lip brushing it against the inside of your cheek. Toji pushed your knees harder into your chest, his feet practically digging into his soft mattress as his thrust got rougher and harder.

"Cum.” He growls, sweat thinly coating his muscular body. "Fucking cum, Y/N.”

It's a demand, and you're happy to oblige letting pleasure take over. A loud, pornographic moan leaves your lips as your cunt flutters around Toji's dick. Toji yanks your hair, revealing your neck to him. As you cum on his cock, he continues to slam into you in a sloppy way. He leans down and bites down on your neck.

"That's i-it, that's fuckin’ it, doll.” he growls out, his body jerking as he got closer to his own orgasm. "Fuckin’ squeezing me so tight, ma. Suckin’ me in. Gonna take m-my fuckin’ cum like a good little whore, yeah?”

You nod dumbly, your body twitching with unadulterated need and desperation.

"Words or I won't give ya anything.” Toji taunts, never stopping his brutal thrust.

Your head was spinning, your heart was pounding against your rib cage, it was difficult to find your words. But you manage.

"Please, please cum inside me. I need it.” You definitely needed it; at least that's what you kept telling yourself so you wouldn't stop Toji from potentially knocking you up.

Your begging pushes Toji over the edge; he slams into you one last time, a deep groan leaving his throat as thick ropes of his cum paint your insides white. Toji's hips stutter as he grinds into you wanting to be even deeper, needing to be deeper. It was like he was trying to knock you up. Like it was a mission.

After a few moments, the two of you come down from your highs still pressed against each other. Your body was sticky with sweat and drool, Toji's cum plugged deep into you by his now softening cock. Both of you were still panting; Toji releases your damp hair, pressing soft, open mouth kisses along your jaw and neck. You close your eyes, taking a shaky breath; all that pent up stress is gone.

"Feel better?” Toji grins against your sticky neck.

A soft giggle leaves your lips and nod. "Much better. Thank you, Toji.”

"Any fuckin’ time, doll.”

[horrorslvts]

stuck zipper 🐰 (dick grayson x fem reader)

tags: female reader, no sex mentioned, nsfw if you squint, breast fetish, latex fetish, teasing, mentions of smut, blood if you squint.

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you pretty much forward rolled inside your apartment on the sixth floor and landed on your knees, you could feel them starting to bruise already. dick followed behind you and closed the window shut, leaving you two in your dark living room with the only light source coming from the city lights of bludhaven outside your apartment.

the dark haired male leaned back on the window rim, chest rising up and down from heavy breathing as he practically ripped the mask from his face to reveal a bruised cheekbone and a bloody nose.

“i told you..” he spoke between panting and huffing. “to stay behind me.”

you lifted yourself from the hardwood floor using your scratched hands and stretched your body; you felt the wet feeling on your shoulder blade and the breeze entering your skin through the latex. you knew you had been injured, just not the semantics of the injury.

“i thought i had him..” you muttered and turned to face your partner in the city while removing your mask off your flushed face.

“youre bleeding.” dick pointed out.

“thanks sherlock.” you said back bitterly and turned your back on him.

“can you tell me how bad it is?” you ask and stretch your body for him.

dick places a hand on your spine and tries to take a look by positioning you near the window for better vision.

“i cant tell, you have to remove your suit.” he says back.

“go ahead-slowly-the latex is sticking on my body.” you say and breath heavily from pain.

“yeah i can..i can see that.” dick says after a small gulp.

he lets his fingers snake towards your neck and attempts to pull the zipper down, but has no luck doing so.

“y/n ill have to cut the suit off you. its stuck.” he informs you.

you fish out a blade from your strap around your thigh and pass it to him.

“go ahead.” you say.

dick then pulls a beeline from the top of your neck down to your spine with the blade, careful to not slice through the fabric and pierce you. then he places the blade between his teeth and uses both hands to rip out your latex skin tight suit, without realizing how much strength he had given on that pull; so he ends up cutting it all from your torso, causing your cleavage to pop out as the fabric dropped like overalls down to the floor.

“grayson-!” you yelp and use your hands to cover your chest.

“relax-“ he says with a muffled mouth as he still holds the blade on his teeth. he then removes it and throws it to the side.

“its not as bad as you feel it is. just a deep cut, but it didnt hit any muscle.” he says and uses his hands to navigate around the skin.

his left hand softly moves from your shoulder blade to the side of your body and up to your side boob, softly gropping the skin with his fingertips.

“grayson..” you say again and let out a heavy sigh, half annoyed.

“its for medical reasons, cmon.”

you groan and let him do as he pleases. the male then moves his fingertips on your nipple and softly plays with it.

“lift your left arm.”

you roll your eyes and do as he asks.

“now bend your body down.”

you follow his instructions and feel his right hand move to the side of your waist.

“hand on the chair real quick-“

you use your stretched hand to grab on the chair and feel your shoulder stretching.

“how does it look?” you ask.

“fuckable.”

“not me idiot! the injury-!”

“its a scratch.” he laughs and softly slaps your ass before you turn around and gently smack his bloody face.

[anonymousicecream]

Happy Ending (Jeewon & Chaehyun x M Reader)

Day 19: Masseuse Threesome

"Welcome to idol's life sir. How may I assist you?"

"I would like to have a massage please."

"Very well sir. How many therapists?"

"Two is enough."

"Of course. Would you like a surprise or would you want to pick them yourselves?"

"A surprise would be good." With that, the woman guided you to the massage room, letting you strip yourself onto your boxers before you laid down on the bed.

"Evening sir, today we're here to relieve you. Please relax and enjoy our treatments." The red-haired girl say, before she starts massaging your right foot. The other girl, who had brown hair, didn't had much to say before she got into action as she massages your hand.

After a few minutes, you felt your hands over something round and squishy. You opened your eyes to find out that your hands rest on the girl with the brown hair's tits. "Erm miss." "Shush, and sir, just call me Jeewon. For the girl doing your legs, her name's Chaehyun." Jeewon said, before she starts massaging your hand as your palm rests on her tits.

It came as a surprise when Chaehyun starts massaging your thighs, going near your crotch. The shock made you react by pinching Jeewon's nipples, earning a moan from her. "Ah!" Jeewon's eyes widened after letting out a moan, while you just stay there and smirk. "You know sir, you can just go ahead and start." Chaehyun informed you.

With that, you used your free hand to start groping Jeewon's breast, playing with her boobs through her tanktop. This soon turned into more as you took her top off, exposing her perky nipples. "Sit on my face." Jeewon followed your instruction before getting on your face, allowing you to see her wet panties. This allows you to set her pussy aside, before feeling a drop of her juice fell onto your face.

The sudden drop made you breathe hard against her pussy, earning a heavy breath from her. It didn't take long before you used your fingers to rub her clit, going up and down on her entrance before you insert a finger into her pussy. "Mmmmhhhh fuck." You started off slow, enjoying every second of it before you felt Chaehyun's hands on your cock, rubbing it softly. What was first slow turned into slow and warm as you felt Chaehyun's warm mouth on your cock.

This prompted you to start using your tongue to pleasure Jeewon, which definitely worked as her moans started getting louder. Your pace got even faster after you felt Chaehyun's warm pussy coating your cock, allowing to start riding you. "Fuck Chae, you're so tight." Chaehyun just chuckled and replied back by increasing her pace, letting her vocalize her moans more. The increased pace did allow her juices to leak faster, letting her warmth coat your cock.

This did made you moan, but it also increase your breathes, allowing them to hit Jeewon's pussy. "Mmmhhhh fuck your breathes are so hot." Jeewon moans, while also keeping your body in place, leaving marks all over your torso. Your attention was soon diverted when you heard noises, which turns out to be the two girls on top of you, making out, eating each other's mouths.

You took the time to rub your thumb on Jeewon's ass, while also increasing your pace on her pussy, resulting in an intense orgasm as she squirts her juices onto your face. You opened your mouth, letting her juices squirt onto your mouth repeatedly, while Chaehyun took control above, muffling her moans by kissing her, while continuing to ride you.

After she finished squirting, you swallowed Jeewon's juices before ordering her to get off you, now instead helping Chaehyun in her chase for her orgasm, helping her by rubbing her clit and tits. This eventually got her to climaxed as Chaehyun lift herself off your cock, before she squirts all over your body and cock, moaning loudly as she reaches her first orgasm. "FUCK FUCK FUCKKKKK!!!!" Chaehyun's moans echo, while Jeewon continues helping Chaehyun in her orgasm, prolonging it.

After she finished cumming, you watch as Jeewon lick Chaehyun's juices off your body and cock, before she starts sucking your cock again. She alternates between sucking and stroking your cock. "Cum on us daddy. Coat us with your cum." Jeewon said as Chaehyun came back to life, now using her mouth to also suck your balls.

The two ladies acknowledge that their tits are their best assets, so they didn't forget to give you titjobs while also slapping your cock onto their tits, adding extra pleasure for you.

The "extra pleasure" turned out to be the deciding factor as you bust your load all over their face and tits, coating them with your cum. Their moans echo through the room after each spurt, before they eventually took a selfie, showing their body coated with your cum.

[after-witch]

Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Reader]

Title: Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo x Reader[

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru follows you home. ‘Alone in the Dark’ follow-up.

Word count: 3000ish

notes: yandere, noncon sex, humiliation, misogyny against reader

No one in your family, no one on the spacious estate--from the rotating guests down to the most menial of servants--believes that you are truly ill. Yes, your family let you return home without too many questions, let you bundle yourself in your room and come out only for meals that you leave as soon as it’s polite to do so. They offer to fetch the physician, and only smile indulgently when you insist that it’s a passing bug, you’ll be fine soon. 

They do all these things, while they know that you’re not really unwell. 

At least they grant you the mercy of not saying it out loud, at least for now, which is something you can appreciate. There is very little that you appreciate nowadays. 

There is a soft knock at the door. One of the maids, then. They were trained to knock politely.

“Yes?”

The door gently opens to reveal one of the newer hires. A modest girl with the ability to act demure and professional just as well as any of the seasoned women who were multi-generational hires, whose mothers-and-grandmothers-and-great-grandmothers had worked for your family.

“Miss, my lord and lady have sent me to inform you that you have a caller.”

You clear your throat.

“Ah, unfortunately, I’m not feeling very--”

It was her turn to clear her throat, interrupting you. It almost made you flinch. It was an unusual gesture, not one your parents would have allowed. It should have been trained out by now.

“My lord and lady have sent me with explicit instructions that you are to come to the parlor immediately, even if you are unwell.”

You bite back a sigh. It must have been someone from one of the other families, then. Maybe throwing out another potential marriage match for you--your mother had fretted, especially recently, that you should have already been married by now. 

The thought of sitting in that damned parlor and pretending like you weren’t constantly about to throw up from stress and shock made you want to tear your hair out. You should tell the maid to go away, and bury yourself under your blankets, and scream and scream because Gojo Satoru made you do something awful and the world was unfair and you thought he was your friend and--

No.

People like you didn’t have that luxury. So you force down your bile and half-heartedly make yourself presentable in the mirror, and follow the maid who escorts you down the hallway, out of the intimate private family rooms and into the grand hall that leads down to the parlor. 

She stops you before you reach the threshold of the open door, and you almost trip on your dainty house shoes. The maid looks back at you with an expression that is something in between demure and overwhelmed. The skin of her cheeks flushes pink. She leans in, as if you were friends, and whispers,

“Miss, it’s--it is Gojo Satoru who has called on you.”

The world seems to drop out entirely. Yet you only feel as if you are falling as you stand there, hand braced against the door frame, head spinning. All the while, the maid grins, unawares, no doubt impressed that her employer’s daughter has associations with someone so well-known. 

Sound pushes and pulls around you, distorting in  your shock, but it’s there, clear as day: his voice. And your parents’ voices, all elegant and honeyed. 

From your vantage point against the door frame, you can hear the trickling edges of their conversation.

“They were smart enough to ask me for some tips, and, well, how could I say no?”

Your mother’s voice oohs-and-ahhs. “No wonder we have seen improvement with them lately. All thanks to your generous tutelage, no doubt!”

You can practically hear the grin in Gojo’s voice.

“Well, it certainly helps that I like their company so much. Very much, in fact.” 

You can vividly imagine the look that your parents have probably just given one another even before you cross the threshold of the door and announce yourself, curtsying slightly to your parents, as you’ve been brought up to do. 

Gojo stands when you enter. Oh, the fucker. All etiquette and primness. Your stomach churns. If he wasn’t buttering them up, if he was anywhere else, if he wasn’t doing this to mock you, he wouldn’t be standing with his hands behind his back and a polite smile on his face. He’d be picking at his ear or lounging on the fine upholstery like it was some ratty college couch. 

Your mother is fluttering towards you in an instant, smoothing down the wrinkled bits of your clothing, fingers darting over your face, looking for blemishes, scratches, anything that needs to be hidden or fixed. 

When she’s satisfied, she lightly clasps your hand and leads you over to where Gojo and your father are standing. Your father greets you with a warm nod--unusual for him, but there is company, after all--and Gojo. Well. 

Gojo smiles. Softly. You think, if he had his way, he’d be grinning like a cat that caught the canary. But that would be too much, in front of your parents. Too uncouth. So instead, he smiles lightly and sweetly and it makes you want to bend over and expel breakfast on your mother’s expensive rug. 

“I’m happy to see you’re up and about,” he says. And then he reaches out and touches your shoulder. You stiffen.

You look to your parents--surely this is improper, surely they will say something--but your mother only presses her hand delicately to her lips and smiles.

Your head turns, slowly, back to Gojo. His smile widens.

“Don’t worry. I’ve told them about our private courtship. We don’t have to hide it anymore.”

The world should fall out from underneath you, but it stays stubbornly flat. 

Your lips open and you will say something to make him leave, you’ll tell your parents what he did or feign illness or--

His hands move to rest on your hips, and--you jolt. Fingers dig into the skin of your hips through your clothing. A painful pinch that tells you: hush.

“I think it’s appropriate for them to have a bit of privacy, don’t you?” Your mother asks coyly, looking at your father. He nods solemnly and takes your mother’s arm. You have never, in your life, wanted your parents to stay with you more than you do now.

But they walk away. As your mother shuts the door, she gives you something most rare: a look of approval. How can she not notice the widened worry in your eyes? The anxiety in your expression? The mere presence of Gojo Satoru shuts out everything but his golden glow, the promise of his connection with your family. 

The sound of the door shutting is like nails on a chalkboard.

You take the opportunity to jerk yourself away from him--to your surprise, he lets you. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hiss. 

Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs easily.

“You weren’t around, so I came to you.”

You hate the way he looks too casual. As if you’d ghosted him after a bad study session and not--not….

“Of course I wasn’t around,” you say, almost spitting. “You…” But you don’t say it. Shame washes over you, hot and sticky. 

The silence between you is just as warm, and you want to wash it off.

“Let’s go to your room for more privacy,” he offers. 

“No.” Flat refusal is the only thing you can think to do now. Just say no, no, no, until he gives up and leaves. 

Instead of leaving, he sighs, languid, and stretches his arms above his head. “Ah, your parents will be so disappointed that I left so early, after all that I talked you up.”

You hate him so much.

“C’mon,” he wheedles, when you don’t respond. “I just want to see where you grew up. Is that so bad?’

Show him your bedroom, make him leave. You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s nothing special. Just a room,” you mumble.

“Don’t say that!” Gojo reaches for you and ignores your flinch when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “It’s your room, of course it’s special.”

Your stomach responds to his praise with a low roil, a remnant of how you might have responded to his compliments before all of this. 

--

“There,” you say, voice tight and short, as you gesture towards your bedroom. You pointedly leave the door open but Gojo doesn’t protest. 

It’s not the most impressive bedroom on the estate--that would be your parents’ room, followed by the siblings who managed successful sorcerer careers and have already had a few children. 

But it’s cozy, and it's yours, and for you that’s enough. You just wish Gojo wouldn’t contaminate it with his presence. He looks at everything, smiling, humming. He goes to read a journal open on your dresser and you rush to slam it shut. He jumps back with an exaggerated grin and apologizes. 

He doesn’t look and leave, like you hoped he would. Instead, he sits down on your bed and pats the space next to him.

“You said you just wanted to look.”

He pats the spot again. “I just want to ask about your training. Really quick.” The look you give him must be enough to kill, because he puts his hands in the air. “I promise, only a few questions about your training.”

Your legs tingle as you force them to move, one step at a time, to the bed. You sit next to him and the proximity makes you want to flee. But if you just do what he says and get this over with, he’ll leave. You can deal with your parents’ expectations about some courtship later.

He smiles when you sit. 

“So, any progress? Better? Worse?” He looks down at you through his glasses. “Be honest.” 

“I… I guess I have been getting better at concentrating,” you murmur. You’ve been forced to, really, since you didn’t want your parents to know about what happened. 

“Aw, see? I knew it would help!”

It. Is that what he calls what he did to you? Your throat hurts. 

“That’s not why you did it.”

Gojo has the audacity to quirk his head at you. It’s a gesture you know would make many women’s heart flutters. It just makes you want to close your eyes.

“No?”

You don’t respond, and after a moment, he gets up. It’s enough to make you sigh in relief. He’s leaving. He’ll be gone and you can figure out what to tell your parents and it will all be fine because--

But he doesn’t walk through the door.

Instead, he shuts it.

“Gojo--”

He gives you a look.

“No one will mind,” he tells you, voice light. “I’ll be quiet if you will.”

Your heart thuds, one, two, three.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you as if you’ve asked him the stupidest question in the world. Maybe you did. Because he’s walking towards the bed now, forcing you to scoot backwards on it. You realize the vulnerability of your body in this position far too late, because before you know it, he’s crawling onto the bed with you.

“Wait--wait,” you sputter. “C-Can’t you just leave? Please?”

He leans over you and pins you down with the mere presence of his body.

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” He kisses your neck, and you crane it to the side, which only makes him kiss it more. “So cute. I’ve been thinking about you every day since then. Every hour. Every minute.” His kisses grow more numerous, on your shoulder, up your neck, your cheek, finally resting just above your lips.

“Gojo, stop.” He’s so close that your breath ghosts his skin, puffs against his lips.

“I’ve been thinking about the faces you made,” he says, voice dropping an octave. The words slink out of him like a snake. “How sweaty you got. What you looked like with your come all over that pretty face.”

If your cheeks get any hotter, you’ll get ill. You know it.

“Stop it,” you whisper, but your lips brush against his and he takes the opportunity to capture you in a kiss. 

The distraction is enough to keep you from thinking about his hands, to keep you from being aware of his fingers unlacing the buttons of your blouse, of how he slides your arms out of the sleeves. You’re only wearing a thin morning camisole underneath, and the sound of it shredding breaks through the unwanted kiss. 

“Gojo--” You say, or want to say, but all your words are muffled against him. 

Saliva trails from his mouth--you want to gag--when he pulls away. “Satoru,” is all he says. 

He’s taken off your shirt. He’s ripped your undershirt. You’re lying underneath him, ample chest bared, and he’s not going to get off you.

His fingers find your nipples and give them an unceremonious tweak. 

“Don’t!”The word comes out too loud, too shrieky, and both of you still in the silence that follows.

You expect him to get off you now. You expect him to realize the danger of being found out and take the opportunity to leave; ego bruised, perhaps, but still--he would be gone.

Instead, he grins at you. “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to come in and see us? Ah, but…” He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, and you jerk on the bed at the strange, electric feeling that shoots in between your legs. “Maybe you want to get caught?”

You press your lips firmly together--be quiet, you tell yourself, be quiet!--and shake your head. 

He continues to roll your nipples, and your hips squirm against the feeling. “I think you do,” he muses. “You know, if someone did waltz in here while I’m balls deep in you, we’d have to get married.”

You practically choke on the unexpected sliminess of his words. But perhaps not so unexpected, considering what he was doing. 

“Wh--What?” You hiss.

Gojo looks at you like you’re dumb--cute. But dumb. “I mean, your family is traditional, no? I don’t think they’ll let me deflower you and not make an honest woman out of you after that.” He spreads his fingers out and gropes the plump flesh of your breasts with his hands; his palms brushing against your hardening nipples makes you bite back a sigh. 

“I mean--I meant--we’re not doing, I don’t want to do--”

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. I like foreplay.”

“Foreplay?” You ask, helplessly, naively. 

“Fuck, that’s cute,” he sighs. He begins to rub at your nipples with his thumbs, and there’s a warm, prickling sensation in them that makes your toes begin to curl.  “You know how many times I jerked off thinking about these tits?”

“Stop,” you say, breathy. It feels good, and you hate it, but it doesn’t hurt--it doesn’t hurt, at least. That’s what you tell yourself to keep your mouth from screaming.

He ignores your words and squishes your breasts together with his hand, making them balloon almost comically.

“They’re so big, you know?” He pushes and pulls them apart. “How do you even stand up with these things?” 

Humiliation blooms in  your throat.

“Don’t be mad,” he says. “I’m not trying to insult them.” He sighs, then, and goes back to rubbing your nipples with his fingers, eliciting a whimper from your lips. “They’re gorgeous. Nice and big…”

Another whimper, this one louder, making you press your palm against your mouth.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He leans down, peering over his glasses. “Feels good when my fingers play with your tits?”

It does. You shake your head. But it does.

Gojo tsks lightly. You feel one hand leave your breast and reach down, down--sliding underneath the waistband of your skirt. Your body lurches but he’s too heavy and strong and you can’t move, even as he swipes his fingers down your underwear. You can feel the way his digits meet some slickness, smearing it around on the other side of the fabric.

“Your mouth can lie, but down here… you’re leaking.”

Your heart lurches with the memory of your leaking cursed energy, with the memory of the hard floor--and with the knowledge that it’s happening again. 

Without fanfare, he grabs the waistband of your skirt and begins to shimmy it down. You kick and struggle, little noises escaping your lips that surely aren’t loud enough to be heard outside the walls. But it doesn’t matter. He’s stronger than you. 

Your underwear goes down next, and you cringe at the feeling of wetness clinging to the soft material as he peels them down your legs. With your clothes gone, it’s easy for him to grip your upper thighs and pull them apart, exposing you directly to him.

“Gojo--” Your throat is dry and your words hoarse.

“Your pussy is prettier than I remember,” he says, ignoring your protests, ignoring the way your legs squirm. “Look--did your clit just twitch? Is it saying hello?” He smiles up at you, stupidly, and some part of you wonders if he really thinks you’ll laugh at what he’s saying. All you can do is swallow against rising bile.

“I was going to eat you out until you squealed first,” he begins, voice low. “But I don’t think I can wait. Besides, you look wet enough.” He rubs his thumb against your clit and you slap your hand back against your mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure. 

You know what he’s doing, even if you don’t want to admit it. You know before he reaches down and shoves his pants down around his ankles. You know before his boxers come down next. You know before you see his cock, hard like the last time.

How in the world is that going to fit inside you? You think. You feel, dimly, your privates clench and twitch at nothing.

“Your body is eager,” he tells you, cooing. “Even if you pretend that you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you murmur. He doesn’t listen. Your fingers grip the sheets of your body and you think dimly about what you’ve heard about sex. All you know is that you weren’t supposed to have it with anyone but your husband, lest you produce unwanted bastards to soil your family’s good name. Your mother had taught you all about the value of your “flower,” the importance of being chaste and virtuous. 

And here you are, splayed on your bed, with Gojo about to take it all away from you.

You let out a whimper when he leans forward and rubs the tip of his cock in your folds. It’s thick and warm. 

“Gojo,” you say, voice tight.

“Satoru,” he chides, sweetly. “I’m about to fuck you, honey, you can call me Satoru.” 

You press your lips together and tighten your fingers on the sheets as he finally moves his hips forward, pressing his cock inside you, slowly.

It hurts. Enough that tears prick at the edges of your eyes, and you let out a soft, pained keen.

Gojo’s there, kissing you, as soon as it leaves your lips. His fingers brush away your tears even as he pushes forward, filling you up more, stretching you. The ache deepens, there’s a sting with it--you wonder if you’ll bleed, like your sister says she did, on her wedding night.

It doesn’t stop once he’s inside you. He pulls his hips back--there’s a brief relief from the feeling when he’s mostly out--before he pushes back in, and the ache reignites, making you jolt and whimper against his lips.

“Shh,” he tells you. One of his hands trails down your stomach, down your thigh, to rest against the top of your sex. His thumb begins to rub out slow circles, and an unwanted aching pleasure begins to build there. 

It doesn’t make the pain go away. It doesn’t make the humiliation go away. All it does is introduce a sick sort of pleasure that makes you feel worse about yourself. How could you like this? It should be impossible, for your body to begin to feel a low, rolling pleasure that cuts through the pain–cuts through the horror–of what’s happening to you.

You whimper, bubbling out a little cry, and Gojo presses sweet kisses to your cheeks.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, you like that, don’t you?” The sweetness of his words is underscored by the wet sound of his cock thrusting inside you, by a faint slapping sensation against you every time he does. 

But you do like it. Or your body does, and you’re not sure what the difference is, splayed on your bed, all warmth and sweat and aches. Gojo’s thumb presses deeper and your mouth opens–you gasp and he swallows your noises in a kiss, not letting up until his thumb is rubbing hard enough that your body arches and there’s a coil snapping inside you.

You grunt, animal-like, into his mouth. He grunts right back and shame curls over you, even as your body spasms in forced bliss. You can feel yourself clenching around him, as if you wanted him, as if you were trying to make the sex better for him.

He doesn’t pull away until you’re done clenching around him, and you shut your eyes for a moment to avoid looking at the almost dopey, pleased expression on his face.

The realizations hit you like slaps  in the wake of your orgasm. 

He made you orgasm. It felt good. You liked it, you hated it. You want more, you never want it again. 

You just lost your virginity--still losing it, he’s not done–the precious commodity that your mother told you to guard well--on your bed. Before marriage. Before you were even in love. Before anything. 

How could it be any other way, with Gojo Satoru? He takes, takes, takes. Takes what he wants because he can, because he knows it belongs to him, if he wants it. You, included. 

There’s a gentle pat on your cheek and you realize Gojo is patting you, tapping you like he might a dazed sorcerer whose head met the rough end of concrete during a fight.

“Don’t get lost on me, now. Look at me… hey, you still here?”

“Yes,” you whisper, although it comes out more stuttered than you’d like with the shake of your body as he thrusts.

He plants a sloppy kiss on your mouth and moves faster. It hurts, still, but some of the more pressing sting is gone. Instead it’s an uncomfortable, new ache. 

“You look so good like this, y’know?” His hands go from your cheeks to your breasts, and he squeezes them. “All ready to be filled up.”

His words take a moment to make any sense--and even then, you’re still not quite sure.

“Fill me… up?”

His thrusts get faster, and you hear your own breath stuttering stupidly as he fucks you. “Like I said--” His words are half-panting, but you get the feeling that they needn’t be; he only wants to seem undone, you think. “Want to fuck you. Want to breed you.” His hands squeeze your breasts, kneading at the flesh. “You’ll get real big, won’t you? With a baby in your stomach, just one at first, but--” He starts to speed up now, and you see a faint redness on his cheeks. “Fuck, who knows how many we’ll have.”

Cold fear clenches your stomach tight, and you resist the primal urge to gag.

“My-my parents,” you plead. Your parents would never let this happen, would they? Not if you told them the truth?

Gojo leans above you, looking down at you with a lascivious expression as he begins to thrust faster, making your breasts wobble with the motion.

“Your parents already approve. They feel honored, and they should, that I want to marry you. Have kids with you. Merge our bloodlines. Might have to fudge the due date, if this takes, but…” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, his head veers down towards yours, and his lips practically crash into your mouth as he kisses you and presses himself deep inside you. He groans into your mouth and a warm, gooey feeling blossoms inside you at the same time. He came–inside you. You knew enough to know that was a bad thing, as far as potential pregnancies went. 

When he pulls back from the kiss, he pulls back his hips, and something warm trickles out with his cock. It’s an awful feeling. The soreness, the wetness. The feeling of being used.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, voice tinged with something warm and breathy. “Did you like that? Making me come?” 

You don’t answer.

Gojo doesn’t seem to mind. He flops down next to you and catches his breath.

“We should go back out there pretty soon,” he says airily. “They’ll be expecting us. Your parents, that is.”

Your voice is a croak. “What do you mean?”

Gojo leans up on his elbows and gives you a cheeky grin. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I told your parents I was staying for dinner. Figured I’d work up an appetite in here… plus we can tell them all about our engagement over dessert. Two birds, one stone?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling, with its ornamented paintings. Pretty flowers and trees that your mother picked out when you were a baby.  You had no input in it, just like you have no say in anything now. 

No birds on the ceiling. 

There are only the stones in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be retched up. 

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 2. the journal

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your memories still remain out of reach, so you ask Joel to tell you a bit about yourself, and with the help of a journal you kept, you begin to learn more about the person you became in the past ten years, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Chapter Warnings: language, eating, alcohol use, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist

"Did'ya get any sleep?"

You glanced up at Joel as you walked side by side towards the dining hall.

"No," you admitted, looking straight ahead again.

After Joel left you in his - your - bedroom, instructing you to rest on his way out, you found you could do anything but. Your mind was spinning with all of the information you had just learned, and you weren't sure which topic consumed you more: the end of the world or the supposed love of your life.

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

You were distracted as you walked, curiously peering into storefronts and repurposed buildings when a group of children playing a game of tag nearly ran into you. At the last moment, Joel tugged your arm, pulling you into his side just in time. The children seemed to realize their mistake because their laughter quickly stopped and the smiles fell from their faces as they looked up at him.

"We're sorry, Mr. Miller," a young boy no more than eight years old said.

Miller. You never even bothered to ask his last name.

Joel just grunted and they scurried away, no doubt eager to escape his glare. You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid. You cleared your throat and stepped away from his grasp, muttering your thanks and glancing around the busy street to avoid the disappointed look in his eye when it became clear you weren't comfortable with him touching you.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans and continued to walk in silence down the main road. A few people shot you curious looks or did double takes as they walked by, and you had to assume if Ellie heard the news about your accident, then others had, as well.

The Tipsy Bison came into view at the corner of the street, made obvious by the large crowds of people gathered outside.

"Does everyone have to eat here or are you allowed to have food in your homes?" you asked him, and he looked down at you, surprised by the question.

"We got food. It's not like a prison or somethin'," he said with a chuckle. "Most folks like to come here to socialize, but sometimes we cook dinner at home," he stopped short when he realized he never asked you what you preferred. "Did'ya wanna stay home instead?"

"No, this is fine," you told him over your shoulder.

"You sure? Maybe it's too much right now," he replied, jogging a bit to keep up.

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

"'Course not," he said, trying to hide his grin. He liked that you wanted him around, even if it was only because you didn't know anybody else. It was a start.

When Joel swung the door open, holding it wide so you could enter first, it might have been your imagination but you thought the loud chatter simultaneously died down for a split second. Then Joel stepped in beside you and the volume rose once again.

You wanted to look around and take in the rustic atmosphere but you could feel the eyes on you as Joel led you through the crowd, the scrutiny making you feel extremely out of place, so you kept your gaze pinned straight ahead. Following dutifully behind, you watched as people automatically moved out of his way, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, until he reached a table in a somewhat quiet corner of the dining hall. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, his hand still resting on the back, and it took you a second to realize he was waiting for you to sit so he could push it in. You quietly thanked him then finally looked around the room.

The dining room had tables scattered around, and as far as you could see, they all appeared to be taken. People were standing in groups, drinking and laughing and eating and you wondered how in the world your table wasn't taken. You were about to turn and ask when an older man approached your table.

"Hey guys," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket. "What'll it be?"

You went wide eyed for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what your choices were when, much to your relief, Joel spoke for you both.

"Still got any of that stew left?"

"Sure do. Few guys got lucky earlier today, too. Got two deer, so we'll be havin' more soon," he replied, jotting something down on his paper. "Two whiskies?"

Joel was about to nod when you spoke up for the first time.

"Just water for me, thanks," you said, and the man nodded his head.

"Thanks, Seth," Joel said as he walked away.

You glanced at Joel quickly, awkwardly catching his eye. It felt too much like a date. Dropping your gaze to the table, you tried to think of something to say.

"Probably a good idea, skippin' alcohol," he said. "Didn't even think about it, what with your head and all."

"Yeah," you said, your hand coming up to gently touch the stitches. "Besides, I don't like whiskey, anyway," you added. Joel laughed softly as he watched you shift nervously in your chair.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Nothin'," he replied, still staring at you in disbelief. "Just ever since you got here you've been tossin' back whiskey better than most of the men. You must've gotten a taste for it at some point."

"There's no way," you said, scrunching your nose when Seth put down Joel's glass in front of him. He stared down at it wistfully, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, lost in thought.

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

You watched him as he reminisced. His eyes shone brightly and a small smile played on his lips, it almost felt like you were intruding on something special.

"When me and Ellie first arrived, no one really went outta their way to talk to me. I preferred it that way. Was used to bein' on my own," he continued, looking up at you now. "But that night, you sat down next to me at the bar like you had been waitin' for me or somethin'. You asked me if I was drinkin' for fun or drinkin' to forget. Those were the very first words you said to me."

You were completely silent as he spoke. The way he told it, it felt like you could see the scene playing out right before you, the way he remembered every detail left you in awe.

"What did you say?" you asked a little breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked down at the table.

"Drinkin' to forget."

You waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to, you asked him another question.

"Then what happened?"

He raised his eyebrows and hummed, a slow smile stretching across his face before he answered.

"You told me you could help me have fun and help me forget," he said, and you could feel the heat instantly flush your cheeks.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, covering your mouth, utterly mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

He shook his head, still smiling at the memory. You glanced around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"So then, did we...?" you trailed off, gaze still fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, yeah. 'Course we did. I'm no saint," he chuckled.

"Jesus Christ," you said, burying your face in your hands. "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"It's not. Well, not anymore. You had an edge to you when you first arrived. Most do. Survivin' out there does that to you," he said, taking his first sip of whiskey.

You sat in silence for another minute, contemplating asking him what he knew about your life before you met him, but ultimately deciding against it. Maybe another time.

"Where's the bathroom?" you asked him, and he pointed down a small hallway near the bar. You thanked him, his eyes trailing after you as you made your way through the crowds, only dropping his gaze once you were no longer in view. It was a strange thing, recounting stories for you like that. At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

You knew you were in the bathroom too long. You knew he would likely be worried, but you just couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror after you washed your hands. Who was this person staring back at you? She looked older and weathered and tired. Your fingertip gently prodded at the bags under your eyes and then a small scar on your chin. What happened to you out there to make you the person Joel was describing? What did you have to do to survive? And did you really want to know the answer?

The door swung open, startling you as three girls around your age entered the bathroom. Their giggles stopped when they saw you and you watched them exchange glances in the mirror before a pretty girl with long, blonde hair greeted you by name. Turning around, you gave her a smile, hoping they would go about their business so you could slip out of there, but of course the pretty girl wanted to talk.

"We heard you had an accident, are you okay?" she asked, and she sounded sincere, but something about her smile made you think twice.

"Yeah, got a few stitches but it should be fine," you said, your eyes flicking to the other two girls, giving them each a smile. They looked at each other and smirked before heading towards the bathroom stalls, leaving you with just the blonde.

"So, is it true? Did you really lose your memory?" she asked, her voice low as if it were a secret, and finally you were able to pick up the vibe. You had been to high school before the outbreak. You had encounters with these types of girls before. Friendly to your face, vicious behind your back.

"Uh, yeah," you admitted, and she gasped as if she felt bad, but you saw the way her eyes lit up.

"So you don't remember, like, anything?"

"Well, I remember before everything went to hell," you told her, "but I don't remember this place, no."

"Oh, wow," she said, and you heard the toilets flush before the other two girls exited the stalls, grinning conspiratorially at the blonde. "So you don't know anybody here?"

You shook your head, feeling uncomfortable with the line of questioning at this point. What was she really getting at?

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?" one of the girls at the sink piped up. You looked at her briefly over your shoulder and shook your head, turning back to the blonde but not before you caught the look in her eye.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, giving you a pout. "Does that mean you aren't together anymore, or-"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

"Don't talk to them, they're nasty," she told you as you weaved your way through the crowd. Joel's eyes instantly found you once you were in view and you saw him straighten up in his chair.

"You okay?" he asked, and you could see the genuine concern in his face as you sat down. You were about to answer when Ellie plopped down on the other side of him and spoke first.

"Angie and her little sidekicks cornered her in there," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Already sniffing around for scraps."

"What do you mean?" you asked her, but just then Seth arrived with your meals and you never got an answer.

"Stew again?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's good," Joel told her before taking a bite. You looked down at the bowl and you were inclined to agree with Ellie, but you swallowed the food down anyway, just grateful for something to eat after such a long day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked her, noticing she hadn't ordered anything and instead was busy sketching in a journal.

"Nah, I'm going to Dina's later, I'll eat there," she explained without looking up.

"Who's Dina?"

"Oh, my girlfriend," Ellie explained, glancing up at you briefly. "Sorry. I still can't get used to this. It's so weird you don't remember."

"Don't be out too late. You got school tomorrow," Joel reminded her. Even though he wasn't Ellie's father, he seemed to have quite the knack for being a dad.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, giving him a weak, two-fingered salute before hunching back over her journal. You heard some familiar giggles coming from somewhere behind you, and when you turned to look, you locked eyes with the blonde girl from the bathroom - Angie - who was holding some drink in her hand, her two friends flanking her sides as she strolled past your table. Her eyes drifted briefly to Joel before she passed by, then turned her attention to her friends, disappearing into the crowd.

"Who is that?" you asked, realizing you never really got much of an explanation. Joel and Ellie responded at the same time.

"Nobody."

"Joel's ex."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as Joel glared at Ellie.

"What? She woulda found out eventually," Ellie protested.

"She ain't even an ex," he said, turning to you now. "Just a mistake I made one time before you even got here," he insisted. The tone in his voice made it sound like he was trying to reassure you there was nothing to worry about, but of course, the information didn't phase you.

"Okay," you replied with a shrug. He examined your blank stare for a moment, searching for a glimmer of recognition. The disappointment in his expression every time something like this happened was becoming too much to bear, so you dragged your eyes off him to glance around the crowded room once again. You found Tommy leaning against the bar and you stood up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I need to ask Tommy something," you said. "I'll be right back."

His eyes followed you as you pushed your way towards the bar, his heart feeling like it was going to break. He wasn't exactly looking for you to have an overly jealous reaction to hearing about another woman from his past, but your casual indifference hurt more than he expected. When you first found out about Angie, you insisted you weren't jealous but the way you sneered at her going forward, combined with giving him the best sex of his life later that night told him a different story.

"You think she'll ever get her memory back?" Ellie asked, still focusing on her drawing. Joel sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"I don't know, kid."

"What'd you need to talk to Tommy for?" Joel asked once you both arrived back to his - your - home. You had wandered into the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

"Oh, I just had a question about something I saw when we were out there today," you explained, and he raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "There were dead bodies when I came to. They looked all decayed and... subhuman. Now that you told me about the infection, I wanted to ask."

Joel watched you open and close cupboards until you found the glasses, then picked one out to fill with water.

"So you ran into some runners," he said, and you nodded. "Did he happen to mention how you hit your head?"

Your hand froze, your glass halfway to your lips as you considered his question.

"Actually, no, he didn't," you said, setting down the glass and looking up at him.

"Yeah, he didn't really tell me, either," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When he told me you hit your head and you were havin' trouble remeberin' things, I just came runnin'."

Guilt washed over you yet again as you thought about Joel being told the news and how panicked he must have been. He practically ripped all the exam room doors off their hinges to find you, only to be met with a stranger when he finally did.

"Well, I can ask him tomorrow," you finally said, putting your glass in the sink to avoid looking at him.

"Yeah," he replied, trailing off a bit. He was still lost in thought, trying to remember Tommy's exact words when you walked past him towards the stairs.

"You're tired?"

"Well, it's been a long day," you told him, pausing on a stair to look back down at him.

"Right, 'course," he said, shaking his head and following you up. When you got to the doorway of his bedroom you paused, looking up at him. It seemed like he was struggling to say something, his mind working hard to find the words, but instead he just gazed down at you, brown eyes all wide and soft.

"Don't suppose anythin's comin' back to you yet?" he finally asked, and you hated seeing that look. That same hopeful look you kept seeing right before you opened your mouth and crushed him. This was hard for him, you knew that, but the way he kept looking at you was making things so much worse. The pressure you felt to become this person he was expecting you to be was overwhelming. You opted to drop your gaze to the floor and slowly shake your head.

"That's okay," he said, and you dragged your eyes back up to him. "Maybe tomorrow."

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

He sighed and glanced at the door to the spare room.

"You need anythin', I'm right next door," he said, hitching his thumb to the side and giving you a lopsided grin, but you could still see it in his eyes. The disappointment. The sadness. The yearning. And it was making you feel sick.

Just as he turned to head towards the spare room, you spoke. "Joel?"

And he eagerly swiveled back around.

"I'm gonna try really hard to remember," you said earnestly, looking deep into his eyes.

"I know," he replied with a sad smile. He gave you one more look before heading into the spare room and softly closing the door behind him.

Joel slept like shit.

No surprise there, really. He hadn't slept without you in years. He had hoped the whiskey would have helped, but he was wrong. His mind was racing as he tossed and turned, and by morning he had foolishly convinced himself that you would be back to normal after a good night's rest. He got up early and made coffee for the two of you, like he always did, then tended to the fire in the living room. The nights and early mornings were frigid, but the days were warm. The first sign that fall was approaching fast. He was just putting the poker back when he heard the bedroom door creak open upstairs and his heart jumped into his throat excitedly, but when you descended the stairs and locked eyes with him, he knew nothing had changed. He didn't even bother to ask. You didn't look at him the same way you used to. You used to smile and gravitate towards him, your hands always seeking out his, your eyes playful and loving, but now you looked at him like he was a complete stranger. Devoid of all affection, the only thing that remained was a forced politeness.

You said good morning and headed into the kitchen and Joel wondered how long it would take for you to come around. Less than a day ago, you looked at him in fear, but now you seemed at least comfortable in his presence. That had to count for something.

He must have looked like shit because when he joined you in the kitchen, you eyed him up and down curiously.

"Have you been up for a while?"

He shook his head and picked up his mug, taking a sip and hoping the caffeine would bring him back to life.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Not great," you admitted, pouring your own cup of coffee. "It really hurts. I think whatever meds the doctor gave me yesterday wore off."

Without even thinking, Joel quickly closed the distance between you to examine your injury. You startled a bit when he came up behind you and lifted your hair, but for his benefit, you tamped down your reaction. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gripped the nape of your neck to angle your head downwards in order to get a better look. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you focused on his fingertips pressing tenderly into your skin. You heard him murmur to himself, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and you realized just how close he really was. Aside from pulling you out of the way so the kids playing tag wouldn't knock you down, it was the first time he had really touched you, and he was so much softer than you expected.

"Don't think it's infected but let's go see the doc, just to be sure," he said, his hand still on your neck, his other hand pushing your hair away.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally allowing yourself to take in a shaky breath as you waited for him to release you.

As if he realized what he was doing, he let your hair fall back into place and let go of your neck, his fingertips lightly trailing down your spine before falling to his side, making you shiver and step away.

"Sorry," he said. "Should've asked to look first."

"It's fine," you told him, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on your neck his fingers just touched.

As you walked side by side to the infirmary, his stony expression slid back into place. Gone was the softness you witnessed in his home. His hardened gaze drifted around the street, then to the watch towers, taking everything in. Studying. Calculating. And that was when you realized there were two Joel Millers: the one who the rest of the town viewed as gruff and callous, and the one you saw in the kitchen that morning, soft and gentle.

You wondered how many people got to see the latter version.

Nick examined you again in the same room as before, but this time, Joel was there watching his every move like a hawk. You could practically see the tension radiating off Nick's shoulders as he moved around the room. He examined your cut carefully, Joel's eyes never once leaving his hands, confirming that it was not infected before parceling out ten little white tablets of extra strength Tylenol into a small baggie and advising you to use them sparingly as inventory was low.

"That's it?" Joel asked incredulously.

"You know how it is, Joel," Nick said, but you heard his voice waver when Joel stood up from his chair. "Meds are hard to come by, we gotta be smart-"

"She hit her goddamn head so fuckin' hard she's lucky she remembers her own name and you're givin' her Tylenol?" he seethed, and you could see his neck growing flush with anger again.

"Joel, calm down, it's fine," you said, sliding off the table. Turning to Nick, you were about to voice your thanks when Joel cut you off.

"It ain't fine. What's it gotta take to get somethin' that actually works?" he huffed, taking a step forward and making Nick shift his weight nervously. "She gotta be missin' an arm? Maybe if she hit her head hard enough to forget what fuckin' planet she's on?"

"Joel, that's enough!" you snapped with a frown, and much to Nick's relief, Joel instantly backed off. He turned and paced around the small room, his hand rubbing over his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"What about my memory? Is it a bad sign I haven't remembered anything yet?" you asked Nick, and Joel paused somewhere behind you to listen to his answer.

"Well, the brain is a tricky thing," he began, his eyes darting over your shoulder briefly. "It could be weeks, could be months. Without any imaging, I wouldn't be able to tell you much more than that." You nodded and swallowed nervously before asking your next question.

"Or never, right?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Joel over your shoulder again before responding.

"It's possible."

You heard Joel's boots squeak against the linoleum floor and without even looking, you knew he was anxiously pacing around again.

"Alright, thank you. We'll get out of your hair now," you said, turning to corral Joel towards the door.

"Regardless, I'd like to see you again in a few days so I can take a look at those stitches," Nick said, and you agreed while pushing a muttering Joel back out into the hallway.

"I'll get you better meds," he said as you both walked out of the infirmary. "I got patrol tomorrow mornin', but I can go out after. There's a small cluster of houses we never did a full sweep on. Maybe-"

"The Tylenol is fine, don't go through the trouble. You could get hurt," you said, shoving the baggie of pills into your pocket.

"Tylenol ain't gonna do shit. I don't want you bein' in pain if there's somethin' we can do about it."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to temporarily relieve the ache in your head until you could get home and take one of the pills. You gave Joel a sideways glance, studying him as you walked together. He was brash and rude and aggressive, but you were learning that side of him came out when he was being protective over the ones he loved.

Or when he was trying to hide who he really was.

"So, everyone pitches in around here, right?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "You do patrol. What do I do?"

You paused at a crossroads, trying to remember which way to go, when Joel's hand on your elbow guided you in the right direction.

"You work patrol, too, but you ain't doin' that anymore," he said, letting go of your elbow after holding on for a moment too long.

"Well, obviously. I don't even know how to ride a horse," you said with a snort. "So I guess I need to find a new job, right? Who do I talk to?"

"Why don't you slow down a minute?" Joel said with a chuckle. "Let that pretty little head of yours heal up before you go lookin' for work."

You weren't going to say anything about his comment. Although it took you off guard, you realized he had habits that were going to be hard to ignore and you didn't expect that to happen overnight, but he seemed to realize what he said on his own and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay. I know this is difficult for you," you said, shooting him a sympathetic glance as you climbed his porch steps. He swung open the door and followed you inside, where you made a beeline for a glass of water so you could take one of the pills.

"We got a lotta history, you and me. It's hard to start over," he said as he watched you toss back the Tylenol with a wince. You examined his face closely and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the cool countertop before replying.

"Tell me a story."

He raised an eyebrow at you but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up a bit.

"What kinda story?"

"A story about us. You just said we have a lot of history together. Let's hear some of it," you replied with an encouraging smile.

"You sure? Thought you'd wanna go lay down," he said, but he eagerly pulled up a stool across from you.

"I think I can handle one little story," you told him, then watched as he stared down at his hands on top of the counter, deep in thought. When he thought of one, a slow smile spread across his face and his dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw that softer side of him again.

"Alright," he said, settling back a bit. "So I told'ya last night how we met."

You cringed, remembering the story of a much bolder and seductive version of yourself, and nodded.

"Well, after that night we started seein' each other for a few weeks. It was just casual, nothin' serious," he said, looking down at his hands again. "I convinced you to sneak around so no one would catch on, and you grew tired of that. Rightfully so. I was bein' an asshole."

You watched him pull at a loose thread on the cuff of his flannel shirt, his eyes still cast down and you were beginning to realize it was due to shame.

"So anyway. One day you came over to, y'know..." he said, and you felt the heat in your cheeks again. "And you confronted me about it head on. Demanded to know why I wanted to keep you a secret. Thought I was ashamed of you - which I wasn't," he said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours again. "But I had been through a lot of shit and I just didn't think I could give myself to someone like that again."

"What kind of shit?" you asked quietly, but he just lightly shook his head.

"One story at a time," he told you with a sad smile. You chewed on your lower lip as you waited for him to continue, his focus back on the loose string while he collected his thoughts.

"So I explained I had a hard time lettin' people in, that I wasn't capable of carin' 'bout anyone like that anymore, and you said to me, 'I know who you are, Joel Miller. Don't give me that bullshit, you're just scared.'"

He stared into your eyes, letting what he said land and hoping to see a flicker of the woman who spoke those words, but you just continued to look at him, waiting for him to finish the story like it was about somebody else entirely.

"Well, you were right, obviously. You always are," he continued with a smirk. "It knocked me on my ass. And I didn't know what was more difficult to believe: that you knew me better than I knew myself, or someone like you wanted anythin' to do with me in the first place."

You smiled and dropped your gaze to the counter, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but so far, these stories don't sound like me at all," you admitted.

He took a deep breath and finally stopped fidgeting with his sleeve.

"A lot's happened in ten years. Stuff that changes people. But I don't care what version of you's here, I love all of you."

You kept your eyes glued to his hands. You wished you could say it back. You knew he wanted to hear it. Maybe one day.

He tapped his finger on the counter, pulling your attention up so you were forced to look him in the eye.

"You fought for me that night, now I'm gonna fight for you, okay?" he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded sheepishly, his shoulders relaxed.

"So you're saying I fell in love with you because you were an asshole?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Joel laughed heartily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, you didn't love me then," he said, still smiling.

"So how did I fall in love with you?" you asked, and his tongue clicked against his teeth.

"You're gonna have to wait to find out," he replied with a wink.

It wasn't his fault, but the rest of the day you could feel Joel looking at you. He was examining you, waiting to see the woman he fell in love with, and the pressure was beginning to be too much, so you made up an excuse to go lay down in his bedroom. He had mentioned he had patrol in the morning. Maybe some time away from him would help you relax.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The distant sound of children laughing outside through the closed window and then the door to the garage swinging open and shut acted as a soundtrack to your overactive thoughts. You almost had to laugh. It felt like your mind was constantly working, churning up information and digesting it only to always come up empty.

Absolutely nothing seemed familiar. Nothing about this place or these people felt like home.

You wished so badly you could remember something. Anything to make you feel like you belonged there. One little shred of hope was all you were looking for.

And then you remembered the journal.

Sitting up in bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and reached over for the black book. You fingers hesitated for a moment on the cover. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but how could that be when it was your own?

Taking a deep breath, you flipped open the journal and began at the beginning.

Right away, you could tell you wrote the entries. There was no doubt in your mind. Aside from your handwriting, your typical disorganization shone through like a beacon on every page. You occasionally remembered to notate in the margin the date, or your best guess at the date, but more often than not you were left with very little context for each small paragraph you read.

You were disappointed to realize the journal seemed to begin after you had met Joel. A big part of you was very eager to learn more about the person you were before finding Jackson, but it seemed as though you would have to depend on others to tell you stories you hopefully had relayed to them in the past.

The first page looked to be a list of items you had jotted down that didn't make much sense, but maybe when you first found the notebook, you hadn't intended to use it as a journal.

Socks, colored pencils, sunflower seeds, cards.

Flipping the page, you skimmed a short paragraph about a cabin you stumbled upon when on patrol. Again, it was more notes than anything of any substance. A description of approximately where it was in relation to Jackson along with a note to 'mention it at the next town hall meeting'.

Finally something interesting on the next page, you read a short paragraph about someone named Maria having a baby girl, and you frowned when you read the line Joel handled it better than I expected.

Continuing on, you read an entry about Christmas: Joel found me the softest sweater, it almost felt brand new. I really don't know how he managed to find it and I described the house I grew up in to Ellie and she drew it perfectly, I can't believe how talented she is.

One paragraph in particular grabbed your attention. It was about two people, and based on the context, it sounded like you were close friends. For the first time since we got here, I had the same day off as Ben and Lisa. We went fishing together and brought a lunch. It felt just like old times. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I miss being out there with them. We made a good team.

Maybe this Ben and Lisa would be able to answer some questions you had about yourself. Based on what you just read, it sounded like they knew you before Jackson.

There was a lot more to read, but the next page stopped you dead in your tracks. Your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the four words. Just one sentence, no explanation. A shiver slowly trickled down your spine as you sat there, unmoving, as your vision narrowed on the page: Joel lied to me.

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[dorabellingham]

Cuddly boy

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader x baby boy

summary: when he has an important game, but your baby wakes up sick

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a Sunday morning when you noticed that Benjamin, normally energetic and talkative, was too quiet. When you checked his temperature, you were startled to see that he had a fever. The little boy, with tired brown eyes and heavy breathing, snuggled into your lap, and you felt your heart tighten. At the same time, you knew that Jude was preparing for one of the most important games of the season and was very focused.

—Mommy, Benji’s body hurts...

He said very quietly, his voice starting to crack.

—I know, my love... Mommy will take care of you, hm? —You stroked your son’s sweat-damp curls.— You’ll be fine soon!

Jude entered the room, wearing his training clothes, and quickly realized that something was wrong.

—What happened, babe?

He asked, looking worriedly at Benji, who was limp in his lap.

—He has a fever, Jude. It's very warm and quiet.

You answered, trying to remain calm, but clearly distressed.

The man bent down and gently stroked his son's head, who slowly opened his eyes and, in a weak voice, murmured.

—Daddy....

Jude's gaze softened, but he also felt the weight of the responsibility of the game that awaited him. It was a difficult decision. He wanted to stay there to take care of his son, but the team was counting on him.

You noticed the conflict on your husband's face and tried to reassure him.

—I'll take care of him, babe. I'll be here the whole time. I know you need to go, and he'll be fine. I promise to keep you informed, I'll let you know if there's a change right away.

But Bellingham was hesitant. He knew you were careful and responsible, but leaving while his son was sick was almost unbearable for him.

—Are you sure, Y/n? I can ask to sit out the game, Carlo will understand.

You shook your head.

—You have to go, Jude. This game is important for you and the team. Besides, Benjamin will be proud to see his dad playing, even if he doesn’t understand much on TV yet.

You smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but inside you were just as worried as he was.

After a few minutes, Jude sighed, kissed your forehead and gave his son a little kiss on the head, whispering,

—Daddy, come back soon, little one. And get better soon so we can play.

When Jude left, you dedicated all your attention to the baby. You called the pediatrician and followed his instructions, giving him medicine for his fever and keeping him hydrated. Throughout the day, Benjamin would go from napping to crying, asking for Jude every now and then, which broke your heart.

You texted Jude with frequent updates, but you tried not to overwhelm him, knowing he needed to be focused. As the game approached, you decided to turn on the TV in the hope that Benji would cheer up a little when he saw his father. Although he didn't understand much of what was happening, he smiled slightly when he saw Jude on the screen, as if he knew his father was there, even from afar. During one of the breaks, you picked up your phone and sent a photo of the little boy watching the game, with a caption:

"We're here watching you. Play for him!"

The night went on when Jude arrived home, exhausted but relieved, he went straight to his son's room. He found Benji sleeping peacefully, with you next to him, holding his little hand.

—You did it, sweetheart. He's getting better.

Jude whispered, smiling as he saw you caressing his sleeping son.

—You really helped from afar, Jude. —You got up from the small bed and hugged the tall man in front of you. —Even though he was sick, he loved watching the game, it even helped him distract himself.

—I just want the best for him, and for you too, and even in the most complicated moments, I feel happy that I was able to help and make our little boy feel better. —He ran his hand around her waist and placed a kiss below her jaw.— I love you.

—We love you so much more, babe.

[drdemonprince]

also like. The way that some discoursers describe the role of a "power differential" in an age gap relationship is heavily informed by cishet relationship expectations that frame a romantic relationship as adversarial.

Just saw someone in the comments of a post about age gaps discussing how confusing it can be to determine who in a relationship actually has the "upper hand," once you take into account factors like income, immigration status, race, and so on. True enough facts, but also -- why are we discussing relationships in terms of who has the upper hand? How will that upper hand be utilized and what does it mean to actually be in a loving relationship with another person when that is how you approach how you relate to one another?

Liberal feminist dating advice for cishet women in particular leads them to become obsessed with not losing the "upper hand" over the men that they are dating -- to not show too much affection or genuine interest, to not forgive mistakes lest you become weak, to not become dependent upon a partner, to remain economically empowered and so on.

Again, these are very sensible attempts to balwark oneself against systemic sexism in the patriarchy, I'm not blaming women for often needing to do all of that.

But can you actually be in a mutually supportive, interdependent relationship if you are constantly guarding yourself against losing your position? Is it loving, is it nourishing, is it a real relationship if you must always guard yourself against losing the "upper hand"?

Patriarchal laws and policies and the awful conduct of many men obviously makes this kind of thinking adaptive for many, but it is horrible that cishet women feel that they can never be vulnerable around the people that they love. That is not a state of affairs we should consider acceptable or admirable; that kind of thinking is not a solution to the real issue at hand, which in this case is systemic sexism, but in other cases could be ageism, classism, what have you.

we need to remove the existing power differentials in a structural way so that people are free to love others how they want to, and not constantly guard themselves against those they love. But even in the meantime, viewing a single interpersonal relationship as the battleground in which these systemic forces play out is a bit confused.

Telling individual people who are marginalized that they must be mindful of the "power differential" when electing whom to date is a bit like telling women they shouldn't "let" themselves be assaulted by wearing the wrong item of clothing or hanging out in the wrong places. That is not why abuse happens. It is not in the marginalized person's control. And instructing marginalized people to avoid receiving love and support as means of protecting themselves only leaves them far more vulnerable in a lot of cases.

[motimatcha]

miss you

hazbin hotel Adam x fem!reader

what happens to Adam when you go away for a long time?

Adam really depends on how much attention you give him. As a man who was abandoned by two wives for a "duck" and as a man who was clearly abandoned in subsequent relationships (which most likely were), your attention and confirmation that you are not going anywhere is very important to him.

Adam will probably never admit it, but he gets very worried if he doesn't see you for most of his day. Moreover, you don’t have to have any contact with each other, if Adam just sees you a couple of times a day and you pay your attention to him, he will be more than calm.

And therefore, the information that you will have to leave heaven for two whole weeks, just because you need to start teaching people on the true path, on the righteous path, did not make him happy at all. Most likely, there was a whole scene where Adam tried, if not to beg you to stay, then at least to go with you. He was ultimately not allowed.

Adam, of course, accompanies you (along with Lute, to whom you give instructions on how to deal with your man). He wants to enjoy his last moments with you before the long days of waiting for your return begin. His hands never stop touching your body: constantly holding your hand, intertwining your fingers, putting his hand on your waist, touching your wings, stroking your hair, kissing and all that - he wants to remember the feeling of your body, taste and voice for the entire time while you're gone.

It holds up relatively well. At first. Over time, it becomes noticeable to everyone how his character is deteriorating, it becomes even worse until the moment of your relationship, which is an indicator and a wake-up call for other angels. Everything reminded him of you, especially being in your common home (not surprising): your things, photographs, smell. Adam, at first, even out of habit, sets the table for two, before remembering that you are temporarily absent. Your portion goes to Lute, who feels awkward.

Perhaps the climax was when Adam decided to take up his work as the leader of the exorcists. He needed at least something to prevent obsessive thoughts from entering his head, and due to the fact that the seraphim refused to provide him with any information about you, these thoughts visit him quite often. Adam locks himself in his office and finally touches the papers and documents that required his attention.

He spends his time working from early morning until late evening, sometimes simply spending the night in his office. Adam becomes nervous, tense and angry with every matter that he cannot solve due to his hot-tempered nature, since some decisions required a sensitive attitude and could not be solved with a snap of his fingers. Usually he asked for your help or advice, but due to your absence, he had to turn to Lute, who was also not known for her kindness and gentleness of character.

Adam begins to get annoyed by other angels, especially the happy angels or couples that he meets here and there. "Why are they so happy?" — flashes through his head, or: “Everyone is deliberately getting on my nerves?!”. At some point, Adam breaks down. This probably happened in his office, when some angel handed him a new stack of documents and raised the topic of your absence.

Lute, who was returning to Adam’s office, found a picture of a frightened angel lying on the floor, and Adam bending over him and almost growling at him to get out. After this incident, the angels try to tiptoe around Adam, not look in his direction and not breathe, and God is a witness to whoever upsets Adam’s fragile mental balance. From now on, all matters are transferred personally to Lute, so that she can take everything to Adam.

The angels begin to mentally count the days until your return so that this nightmare ends.

At the end of the last day, when the sky turned a shade of scarlet, as if bursting into flame, a golden portal opened in the sky testified that the angels sent to earth were returning. The rising wind pulled the curly clouds inward, which is why at first it was impossible to say for sure which of the angels appeared in heaven first.

Lute stood in the front row among those awaiting the return of their loved ones. It would be more accurate to say that she was floating almost a couple of meters from the portal, which was slowly distorting space to create a stable corridor between two dimensions. She needed to meet with you as soon as possible while Adam is in a meeting where he is 100% likely to be reprimanded for his behavior over the past two weeks.

— Lute? — sincere surprise is heard in your voice when you leave the portal and see her, and not Adam. — And where?..

— It’s because of him that we need to hurry.

Lute extends his hand to you, which you immediately take. The angel exorcist pulls you along, causing you to jerk forward sharply at first, but in time you begin to flap your own wings, trying to keep up with the girl.

During these two weeks among people, you forgot how powerful exorcist angels are.

You can't help but notice how some angels accompany you with looks of encouragement, looks of relief. You can only wonder what this is connected with, but Adam will definitely be the main figure in this matter. It was suspiciously quiet in parliament, only the rustling of papers, the fluttering of wings, and barely audible whispers coming from the offices behind the high doors. Initially, it was suspicious that Lute brought you here, and not to your home or Adam’s home, and only when approaching his office did you clearly see this certain line, an exclusion zone, where there is not a single ascended soul except you and Lute.

— Adam is now at a meeting, — Lute informs you and, taking out the keys, opens the door to the office, — Please wait for him here.

Lute's voice was full of unspoken pleas and a little panic, as if something terrible would happen if you left. Perhaps Lute’s fears were not so far from the truth, because who knows what Adam will do if he doesn’t see you today; he already missed the opportunity to meet you first. Lute leaves, apparently after Adam, so that he does not waste his time searching for you near the portal to Earth.

Adam's office greets you with darkness, illuminated by light from the crack under the door. The room is hot and stuffy, and there is a sour taste; you doubt that Adam ventilated his own office or did it very rarely. The room was surprisingly tidy and the mountain of documents that was on the table during your last visit was missing, indicating that there was work. Having spread your wings, you fly up to the thickly curtained window to not only let the light of the setting sun into the room, but also to give way to the fresh evening air.

Fingers pull the string and the curtains part to the sides, raising clouds of dust from the windowsill. It immediately becomes lighter, warmer and more comfortable, even a certain atmosphere of romance and mystery creeps in. You pull the handles of the windows, allowing them to creak open and immediately a cool breeze slid over your body, ruffling your hair and feathers of your wings. Until Adam's hot hands touched your waist.

— Hi Adam, — you say and turn in his arms so you’re face to face. — Well, what have you already done?

Adam's grip only became stronger on your waist, but not yet so pressing as to cut off your access to oxygen. Adam, like a cat or dog that was starving for the attention of its beloved owner, wanted to be as close to you as possible, to occupy all your thoughts - a selfish desire to be your only priority. His hand takes your wrist to bring it to his face and rub against your palm, tickling the sensitive skin with the stubble that has begun to grow. Adam looked really tired, as evidenced not only by the dark circles under his eyes, but also by his slow, inhibited actions.

— Sweet tits, who do you even think I am?.. And in general, I really missed my beauty, who left her beloved guy for two weeks. Do you know how I suffered for you?

Looking around his office again and remembering the looks that accompanied you from the other angels, you could imagine the scale of the tragedy that Adam caused every day. And it was honestly and sincerely funny, even a little sweet; a laugh escapes your lips, causing Adam to smile as well before scooping you up in his arms and turning to face his desk, setting you down on the dark wooden surface.

— Next time I’ll go with you, wherever it may be, — Adam promised you with a threat, and then his smile turns from gentle to anticipatory. The fingers on your sides dig deeper into your skin and pull you towards the edge of the table, causing you to wrap your legs around his body and feel his growing erection. — And now you have to take care of the fact that you abandoned me for two weeks.

[bbokicidal]

Can I request Felix who is usually a sub leaning/vanilla and wants to dom reader for the first time, and Bangchan is there to help teach him what to do.

Idk if it makes sense but I love your work sm💕

-👩‍💻

[Drabble] Just A Little Help | Felix x Reader [+ Chan]

Felix loves when you take control, don't get him wrong. He likes the feeling of you being on top - hovering over him, sitting in his lap, riding him until his thighs push together and his knees knock against one another, shaking as you milk him dry. Those times are the best for him because it lets him relax, lets someone else take control so he doesn't have to worry about how he's doing, if he's doing it right, if he should do something different;

But he wants to try something new. He wants to try being dominant with you, but he isn't really.. sure where to start. It isn't the same as you being dominant so he can't really just think back and retrace your steps before following them himself, so he tries to do some research. But even then, he's a little nervous! Videos only show so much and so many of them are staged, even some of the amateur stuff (which is also filmed at shitty angles.)

Videos didn't help, articles didn't help - and his confidence is beginning to dwindle so much that he's debating just giving up and letting you dominate him like usual tonight. But then Chris sends him something - it's a meme, though it's sexual in nature, a clear innuendo that Chris is laughing at over text.

And so Felix decides to ask his Hyung for help.

It's a little embarrassing at first, but Chris seems to take it seriously. He understands why Felix is asking and offers up front to help the younger Aussie with his wants. He comes to the house in the evening and greets you with a polite smile.

When the time comes, you expect Chris to take his leave and head home. Only, Felix informs you that he wants Chris to stay, asking for your permission to keep him in the room. You're surprised, but if it's something they both want then you suppose it's alright - And you're only further surprised by the way your boyfriend initiates everything first. He's the one to kiss you, to gently guide you to the bed, to grind down against you and have you squirming beneath him in need. You're confused, but wildly aroused, and peek over at Chris only to see him gently nodding at Felix who was also glancing over.

Chris is there to guide him.

You've caught on, but stay quiet. Bringing it to their attention might only embarrass Felix and he seems to be in the groove right now, so you simply hum and moan and nod along as Chris comes closer to the bed to tell Felix what to do verbally. No more hints - simple, crisp, clear instructions. When to take off your jeans, how to pull down your panties with his teeth. Felix's tongue meets your clit and you gasp out, use to sitting on his face and having it all at once; But the gentle teasing he ensues when he's in control is enough to drive you mad - No tongue burying in your pussy, no suffocation of your poor sweet boyfriend beneath you. Instead it's little kisses peppered inside your thighs, the tip of his tongue flicking over the bundle of nerves he seemed to locate so expertly.

Chris watches the way your body shifts and uses your body language to decipher whether or not Felix needed to do more. He stays quiet until Felix comes up, hastily pushing his boxers down his thighs and crawling onto the bed between your legs. He doesn't need help with this part, sinking into your walls and whimpering at the way you seem to swallow him whole. Felix had to admit, the moment he started moving he almost regretted being on top - because he knew as soon as your thighs locked around his waist that he was going to become addicted to the feeling.

He's fucking into you just fine, and you seem to be pretty content with it - moaning, whining into the space between you - but Chris suggests Felix could take it a little further. Chris hums out that Felix could choke you, but the younger of the two quickly shakes his head. He isn't sure about it, is a little too shy to do such a thing just yet, and instead opts to lean down over you and cage you in with his elbows pressing just above your shoulders. It allows him to kiss you but still gives you the feeling of being held down, trapped beneath him.

Felix is exhausted by the time it's over. He isn't use to doing more of the work so he just lays atop you and lets you card your fingers through his hair while Chris sits aside quietly, waiting until someone got up to take his leave. He shifts when you get up first, rolling so Felix laid on the bed and you could get up and off of him.

Chris gives you time to get dressed, meeting you in the kitchen shortly after. He asks how it felt, if it was okay with him there - and when he hears that you actually liked having someone else in the room, Chris asks if he could potentially come back another time. Maybe be involved more.

Though, he has to warn you; He isn't as gentle as Felix is.

[delphi-shield]

ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴜᴛꜱ ↪ strap-on hcs

mdni

strap in and strap ON sorry

took a break from working on fluff pieces to slap this together. all i do on this stupid website is reveal what a huge sub i am im furious.

characters included: jill valentine, claire redfield, rebecca chambers, ada wong, helena harper, a very special secret guest (leon kennedy)

content: feat. reader receiving and giving, oral, piv, licking of fluids, light humiliation, talking you through it, established relationship assumed, reader is afab in helena & leon's parts, strap-on gratuitous referred to as dick and cock.

You don't need to convince Jill the strap is real. She already knows. She's convincing you the strap is real.

She's informing you as a courtesy that she's going to knock you up, and the way she has you all knotted up, hands pressing the backs of your thighs up, up, up, as wide as she can get you, you believe her.

She drills down into you, tits bouncing, making you go cross-eyed. You try to keep your noises locked behind your lips, sweet little whines muted. Your hand reaches for her and she swats it away before you can so much as brush a nipple. Jill grips your jaw so hard it stings, squishing your cheeks together until your noises are loud enough for the neighbors to complain.

Her hands leave you once you melt into the mattress. The rustle and chime of her removing her harness is a lullaby to you, wind chimes on a muggy summer night.

When you're finally boneless beneath her, limbs heavy, body covered in a sheen of sweat, lube, and cum, she trails the backs of her fingers along your spine. Her palm presses to the small of your back, velvet voice in your ear purring praise for you.

But when she dangles her gear in front of you, the bumper that had sat flush with her cunt still gleaming with her cum.

“Clean this up for me,” Jill instructs, hand curled around the base of your skull while you gorge yourself.

Claire, on the other hand, is secretly flustered by your attempts to convince her the strap is real.

You're jerking her off mid-make out and she's rolling her eyes because c'mon, you know I don't feel that, right?

Sure, baby. Anything you say. Her hips keep rocking to meet your fist, her nipples peaked, arching into your touch. She drags you in by your shirt until you're straddling her, dick wedged stiffly at the apex of your thighs. When you squirm, she laughs.

“Wanna ride it, huh?” Claire taunts, her hands trailing against your side. She doesn't expect you to say please. If it were real, it would have twitched.

Claire can be so mean when she teases but she falls apart when you dish it back to her. You grind against her, palming her dick to keep it right where you need it, right where it feels best, because Claire can't stop lifting her hips, can't stop bucking against you even though she insists she ‘can't feel it’.

You begged her to cum inside you just once and her hips snapped against yours, like she was trying to buck you off.

Your hands brace on her shoulders, grinning in the face of Claire's scowl.

“Just get on your hands and knees already. Jesus. I'm gonna make you ask next time.”

Rebecca can't stop slapping it around just to watch it wiggle. She bats at it like a cat, tugs it down with one finger just to watch it spring up and nearly slap her stomach.

“It's so funny,” she insists, not realizing she's dangling a piece of meat in front of a hungry lion.

As much fun as she has just fiddling with it, she's not truly sold on the strap-on experience until you gift her a harness with a little pouch for a bullet vibe.

Her technique falls to pieces, but the way she fucks you is so enthusiastic that it's hard to be mad when she ruins your orgasm with her sloppy thrusts.

She's finding her third orgasm when her stamina wears out. Rebecca collapses against your back, hips still flush with yours, dick buried in you to the hilt. Your chest falls flat and she faces in after you, pressing a groan to your skin when the vibe hums against her clit just right. Her hips thrust staccato, chasing herself over the edge again, fucking herself somehow deeper into you.

“Sorry, sorry,” Rebecca whimpers, finally pulling out of you. She wiggles out of the harness like it's in fire, the vibration suddenly too much all at once.

When she finally catches her breath, she asks, “did you..?” and she's mortified when you shake your head before she even finishes her sentence.

Her hands pry your thighs apart before you can even tell her it's okay. She demands you lay back, hands gliding under your ass to move you where she wants. Her jaw isn't tired.

Ada really doesn't bust it out that often. She has no inclination towards penetrative sex, insists she can make you feel just as good without it - but she does acknowledge that sometimes these tools serve their purposes.

It's like you can hear a chorus of angels when she opens the soft case she keeps her glittery black strap in. She rolls her eyes, tells you not to look so eager.

How can you not? She passes you her gear and lets you guide the harness up her legs, lets you kiss her cunt in preemptive thanks before you fit her cock over it - and then you kiss the head, too.

Once, you thought you saw her drool when you looked up at her, strap down your throat, eyes wet with tears. It seemed so unlike her, so messy in the place of her usual curated stoicism. You'd clung to that image for months, hung it in your mind as the real Ada shining from between all her layers, and you'd spent months gagging yourself on her cock for a glimpse of her.

She coaches you through it no matter how many times you take her. She sets her palm against your cheek, watches you lean into her touch, cock prodding against your other side.

“So pretty like this, aren't you?” Mhm, yes ma'am. You can't say that, but you try to tell her with your eyes. “You're doing so well. A little more. Think about where you want me next.”

There's always a next with Ada. She doesn't do anything in half measures and that includes you. Maybe there was a time where she would have taken her pleasure quickly, where she'd have been gone before your own could crest, but now the only time it truly feels like you have her is when she's in bed with you.

Helena leaves you wobbling around like a newborn deer every single time. Her arm curls around your waist the morning after, tugs you back to bed in apology when she sees you stumbling.

“M'sorry baby.” She presses her nose just behind your ear, inhales deeply, fits her body against your back. “I'll be more gentle next time.”

So that was a fucking lie.

Helena's got a thing about windows, likes to fuck you up against them, her feet planted wide, grinding her strap into you hard and deep.

Her promise to be more gentle is long forgotten. She keeps you crowded against the glass, your shirt yanked down so your tits press flat on the window. Large or small, tits or pecs, she wants them out and on display for anyone who galena to look up and see how good you're getting it.

Helenas's other hand stays pressed to your navel, like she's trying to feel herself moving in you, “all the way in your stomach, huh? You feel me?”

On rare nights when she wants it, she wants it hard. She wants her brains scrambled she tells you, tightening the harness at your hips. She presses a kiss where the fat of your hip bubbles up, runs her fingers reverently along the dips and divot of your skin.

It's the most softness you'll get until she's satisfied. If you can't or won't pound her into the mattress (or carpet, or countertop, or backseat, or…) then she has no problem forcing you to sit still while she fucks herself on your cock.

Leon is so fucking angry when you slap your strap against his cheek. He's scowling up at you, all puffed up and defensive. Maybe now that he knows how it feels he'll stop doing it to you. (You hope not.)

“I think you've done this before,” you muse when he finally takes you into his mouth. You waited ‘til he couldn't respond, of course, just to see him glare at you. It's hard to pout when your mouth is full of cock, but Leon manages it. (See? He's a pro.)

This was his idea. You don't know what he's being so pissy about it for. You'd have thought it was Christmas the way his eyes lit up when he found your strap-on, shoved to the very bottom of a box. It had been an interesting moving day. Leon had found it in him to wait until his friends were gone to tell you about his discovery. The teasing, you'd expected. The interest, not as much.

“You gonna be pouty if I'm bigger than you?” You teased, expecting a laugh, not a fucking moan.

The pattern develops quickly. You brush his hair gently from his face. He pulls off your cock. Your hand fists in his hair, urging him back. He moans, fits even more of you into his mouth, nearly gags himself and recovers like a champ.

Leon pulls off you, lips swollen and spittle trailing. You need to ask him if he's okay with pictures, you realize, stomach squirming and heat pooling. Your thumb smooths over his cheekbone and the gentleness has him rocking into his knees, reaching past you for a bottle of lube. He tosses it to you and you nearly drop it, too busy watching him lay back, cock flushed and leaking against his skin.

When you finally remember how to breathe, you wobble in between his legs. You line your cock up with his. It takes both your hands to wrap completely around the two of you. Leon's eyes flutter shut.

“I'm bigger,” you whisper, unable to help yourself. Leon glares at you, jaw clenching. You'd think he was mad if his dick hadn't just jumped in your hand.

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (4/?)

Purposely getting yourself kidnapped by the Autobots so you can persuade Ratchet to teach you some first aid, as you're worried that Megatron's escalating violence against Starscream will one day leave him with injuries you don't know how to fix.

There's more Ratchet in the middle (because I love him as well. I want to hold both of them in my hands with gentol totche.)

Mashup of timelines as usual, but I def realized that when I imagine Starscream he's visually the G1 or IDW design, and when I imagine Ratchet it's TFP. I love MTMTE Ratchet but I'm not quite caught up yet haha.

Since you and Starscream were now sharing a berth, it was inevitable that he would find out about the nightmares. Every time you jerked awake, you would take great pains to quietly settle back into berth even if recharge eluded you. The reason was simple - you didn't want to bother Starscream with it. He gets very little recharge as is, and probably sees things every solar cycle that are ten times worse that what you're faced with.

Starscream doesn't comment, if he knows - another bot might have rushed to console you, but his brand of comfort was to apparently grant you the dignity of being vulnerable in private, especially since you were more or less chassis to chassis with each other in berth.

However, he finally can't hold back when you begin zoning out during training. "Earth to cadet, as the fleshlings say," Starscream snapped, waving a servo in front of your faceplate. You jerk awake, optics cycling before they zero in woozily on Starscream's faceplate. Pinched with irritation, but was that... concern?

You lightly smack your helm in hopes it'll get your processor back to optimum function. No such luck, but it was worth a try. "Sorry, sir."

He narrows his optics at you, taking in the exhausted slump of your frame. For a long moment, no one says anything.

Then, Starscream abruptly turns heel, his back to you. "Dismissed."

But - but you've been here for barely a joor, and - "Sir, please, it won't happen again-"

"And waste my time and yours?" Starscream says bluntly. You flinch, but he just presses on.

"You're in no condition to absorb the information I am giving you, which, if I may add, is exceedingly valuable to your success as a seeker. Recharge properly, and perhaps your processor will be able to comprehend simple instructions such as 'stay awake'." He sniffs, but glances over his shoulder at you - and his optics are gentler.

"We will try our luck again then."

Your first response is to sag with relief even as you watch him stride away, because he wasn't giving up on you. Your second response, however, is that of pure consternation.

The nightmares have gotten worse.

Ever since you had to personally patch Starscream up as he bled out on the floor of his habsuite, the nightmares have gotten so much worse. There are momentary flashes of hate in your processor for Megatron, but they are quickly tamped down by fear. Even your mind is not a safe place, after all, with Soundwave here.

The memory of Starscream, broken and battered at your feet, replays over and over. In some of your nightmares, he is exactly as you found him - gouges in his frame, ripped wires, leaking energon. But just as you thought you'd gotten used to the memory (he's not like that anymore. He's alive and well. He's not like that anymore.), your processor decided to play tricks of the worst kind on you. Offering all kinds of ways Starscream could be hurt, in full technicolour detail, optics shuttered and frame unnaturally still. Worst of all, you could only watch as your processor conjured injuries beyond your rudimentary expertise, that Starscream could very well succumb to because you didn't know how to save him.

That night, the image in your processor is so bad that you bolt upright with coolant already leaking from your optics. You swipe roughly at your faceplates as the memory continues to remain fresh in your mind, fighting to get your trembling frame under control.

You turn to look at the bot next to you, if only to reassure yourself that he's okay, assuming he would be in recharge - but to your surprise, a pair of glowing red optics meet your frantic gaze.

"Sir," You manage to garble out, through the layers of static distorting your vocalizer. "I'm sorry for waking you."

Starscream says nothing. His optics flick to the coolant that drips from your faceplate even as you try to assure him that you're fine, and suddenly, he opens his arms to you in wordless invitation.

"I- sir?"

It's not the first time you would have recharged in his arms. But... this? You hesitate, unsure whether this is too much to ask. Evidently, you've hesitated for too long, because Starscream wraps a servo around your wrist and pulls you gently but insistently to him.

"I'm here," He murmurs gruffly, in low, musical Vosian. And it makes coolant spring to your optics all over again, because ever since Megatron had taken charge, he'd quickly ensured that all his soldiers spoke only standard Cybertronian - a quick and brutal 'show' had made sure of that. You slip into recharge with the gentle lilt of Vosian in your audials, and for once, no more nightmares plague you. You're even more surprised to awaken not to an empty berth, but still pressed up against Starscream's warm chassis.

"Oh, good," Starscream had rasped, vocalizer not quite activated after recharge. "You're awake. There are some things I must see to, so I trust you will stay out of trouble in my absence."

You barely had time to even nod before he was gone. Checking your internal chronometer, you whistle quietly. Was it that late already? Had... had Starscream stayed on purpose, so you wouldn't panic upon seeing an empty berth?

You feel more recharged than you have in many solar cycles. However, your newfound energy and the warmth thrumming through your spark for your commander has only strengthened your determination to do something. Starscream might have kept the nightmares at bay last night, but you knew it wasn't sustainable. The only way you can bring some semblance of peace to yourself and him is if you can become confident in your abilities to repair him without external help.

Which is, admittedly, a lot easier said than done.

You knew you were about to do something really, really stupid.

The Decepticons had traded tales about an Autobot medic named Ratchet, before. The way they spoke of him with begrudging respect was enough for you to believe that Ratchet could work literal miracles, and that was precisely what you needed right now. But how could you possibly approach him?

You've heard enough about the Autobots, observed enough about them to know where they differed from the Decepticons. One major difference was that even when they took prisoners, they were not cruel. What if...?

You're too deep into this to give up. There's too much at stake here - despite the risk, if Ratchet was willing to hear you out, you might one day have a fighting chance to save Starscream's spark from flickering out. Which is how you found yourself trekking along the side of a dusty, abandoned road along some dry, sandy plain, not making any effort to hide yourself as you hoped for an Autobot to come across you.

But at the same time, what if they didn't let you go after taking you prisoner?

Before you can continue to second guess yourself, the roar of a well-oiled motor engine sounds behind you, and you almost laugh at how obvious you're being. A seeker, walking? The Autobot scout, Bumblebee, skids to a stop behind you, and you hear the smooth clicking and whirring of his transformation.

"Looking for trouble?"

Not particularly, You think, turning round to face him, but as Bumblebee falters, you realize you've spoken out loud.

This is the first time you've come face to face with the scout. You're about the same age, and for a moment, you both regard the other with open curiosity, like bots being introduced for the first time by a mutual acquaintance. In another timeline, you wonder if you could have been friends.

Bumblebee squints, looking unsure whether or not to drop his fighting stance. You make no move to engage, and simply stand there, servos dangling limply by your sides. This idea is really, really stupid.

"Defecting?"

You reset your vocalizer. "Not exactly."

"Still enemies, then," Bumblebee says, and he doesn't bother to hide the note of disappointment in his voice. Enemies. He doesn't even know you. You wonder if the divide between you runs too deep, even if only in name for you. Is there nothing more to you beyond faction name?

The bubbling hope of confessing to Bumblebee your real intentions abruptly withers. Why, indeed, would he help you if he knew you wanted to help the SIC of the Decepticons? Still, you hated to say it, but it seemed that Bumblebee had the privilege of naivety for a few more stellar cycles at least, under Optimus' kind guidance. Within the Decepticon ranks, you'd quickly learned that some bots simply didn't deal in kindness. You supposed it was back to the original plan, then.

"I've been out here for a while," You say, pretending to stagger a few steps. You are in the middle of a scorching hot desert plain, after all. Casting your hook, you hope to Primus that Bumblebee buys the act, because even to you, it looks phony as hell.

"I think I'm lost." Bumblebee, who was originally looking suspiciously at you, widens his optics as his little antennae twitch upwards in shock. Line.

You stagger even closer, pressing a servo to your helm. "Bumblebee-" You close your eyes and pray to Primus that the Autobots are actually nice. You really haven't thought any further beyond getting yourself captured. Maybe you wouldn't even get the chance to talk to Ratchet. But you're too far into your little one-man show to back out now. You crash to the ground, and with your optics offlined, hear Bumblebee's yelp of shock, the scuff of dry earth beneath his pedes as he races over to you. And sinker.

"Oh, Primus," Bumblebee mutters. "Why couldn't it just have been a fight? I can do that."

You're honestly hating this war more and more. Bumblebee felt so much like a little brother - you're torn between fighting to keep the laughter from bubbling up, and the need to scold him for letting his guard down so easily. What if it was a genuine trap you'd set for him? He'd rushed to your side with no regard for his own safety. Then again, this was exactly what you'd been banking on - you count your lucky stars that it was indeed Bumblebee you'd run into and not anyone else.

"Ratchet," You hear Bumblebee say into his comm. "There's a 'con here, but not in good shape." Just to really drive it home, you groan weakly from where you're collapsed in a heap on the ground. It must have worked, because Bumblebee's voice pitches upwards in slightly panicked urgency. "Yeah, yeah, I'll bring them through. Thanks, Ratchet."

Huh. You really hadn't expected it to be that easy. The tales you'd heard of the Autobot medic were from when you used to sleep in the barracks with the lower-ranking Decepticons. This varied from his rough bedside manner, his surprising ability to fight ("He had green, glowing optics," One Decepticon said with a shudder), his past as the 'Party Ambulance' (what.) to his relative fame amongst older bots as a highly respected neurosurgeon before the war broke out. Most strikingly, he'd apparently patched up Autobots and Decepticons alike on the battlefield.

"It's some medic code he has," Snorted the Decepticon next to you. "Stupid, if you ask me. Why fix up the bots who are out to get you?"

"Lay off the medic," Another bot admonished sharply. "You might not like it, but quite a few of us owe our sparks to him."

A couple of low, murmured agreements resounded around the room. There was undeniably a begrudging respect for him all around, and a fair number of the bots clearly didn't want to be the ones to take him out, if it ever came to that.

You were thinking about Ratchet even when the lights went out. Even though you'd never met him personally, admiration swirled in your spark for the bot with such a strong moral code that he would never falter in his actions. You'd always dreaded having to choose a side. Being with Starscream meant that you'd 'chosen' the Decepticons, sure - but it was Starscream you were loyal to, not Megatron. You'd resigned yourself to eventually signing your spark away to the cause, because you couldn't think of any other way to survive there. But perhaps, you think, you could be like Ratchet.

And now - as Bumblebee carried you through the swirling groundbridge, your spark thrummed at the possibility of imminently meeting him for real.

As soon as the roar of the portal closed behind you, your audials prick up as a low, gruff voice speaks.

"Are you hurt?"

"Not a dent," Bumblebee says. "Not sure about this one, though."

"Just the one?"

"Yup."

"Huh," The other voice says. "I'll tell Optimus to keep an eye on that area. Never know if the Decepticons are planning something."

You feel Bumblebee shrug, even with you gathered in his arms. One of these days, you really have to tell him off for being too trusting. Enemy or not, he seemed like a decent bot and you didn't want trust to be the thing that destroyed him.

A deep sigh. "Put them in the med bay and go refuel first."

"Sure thing," Bumblebee chirped, and you felt the cold metal of a medical berth against your wings. A few nanokliks passed, and you continue to remain still, pretending to be unconscious. Should you...? Ratchet, however, beat you to it. "Alright," He groused, as soon as you heard the door to his med bay slide shut. "Get up. I know you're not actually unconscious."

Your eyes shoot open. "How-?"

The bot in front of you looks unimpressed. "I'm a medic."

"Right," You mutter sheepishly. Sitting up on the medical berth, you take in the sight of Ratchet for the first time. Red and white, built and stocky. Rounded helm, pointed chevrons. You finally work your way to his faceplate. Glowing blue optics stare exasperatedly back at you.

"Sorry," You mumble, and Ratchet sighs again. He seems to do that a lot. Then again, he seems very tired. You don't blame him.

"If you're done," He grumbles, "I'd like to know why you got yourself kidnapped on purpose." There's an air of mistrust in his optics now, a tenseness to his frame that you don't like. In a way though, you're grateful that he's cutting right to the chase.

"I wanted an audience with you," You begin, haltingly. Ratchet's optics narrow slightly, but he doesn't say anything and just waits for you to continue. "I heard that you fixed up both Autobots and Decepticons before, because you have a code. And I know you're an Autobot - " You glance at the polished insignia on his chassis, "- but I'm kind of... like that, too."

Speech was never your strong suit, and you were glad Starscream often did the talking for you. His silver tongue had surely gotten the both of you out of a few tight spaces before, but you never dared to ask about the details. Fortunately, a sharp in-vent tells you that Ratchet has understood what you were clumsily trying to get across. He crosses his arms over his bulky chassis, optics roving carefully over your faceplate as he assesses the situation.

"So," He asks carefully, "What's your code based on?"

Ah. He'd seemed receptive so far, potentially persuaded to your own one-man cause, but here was the detail that might make him eject you bodily from his med bay.

"Starscream."

You watch as a range of emotions flit across Ratchet's faceplate. Eventually, it settles on confused and mildly horrified. "Starscream? Are you sure?"

"Yes," You say, feeling oddly defensive. Ratchet seems to pick up on this, and he unfolds his arms with an even deeper sigh. "A seeker," He mutters, optics flicking over your form as if really just seeing you for the first time. "How old are you?"

You tell him.

Ratchet pinches the bridge of his helm, between his optics, a bone-deep weariness emanating from his frame. "I'm assuming you're one of Starscream's students, then," He says.

"The last one," You add quietly. The Quintessons launched an attack on the Vosian Air Academy, and I was the only one who survived."

"...Ah."

Another hum, and this time, his optics are appraising, as if something had clicked into place. You, a youngling like Bumblebee, would not be sitting before him with your paint in near pristine condition, had someone not taken you under their wing. Literally and metaphorically.

"So what is it you want from me?"

"Can you teach me some first aid?" You blurt. Ratchet's brows furrow.

"I could," He says, confusion evident in his voice. "But what for? Don't the the Decepticons have a medic?"

"Well, yes," You hedge, "But, you know. Starscream."

That part he understands - it was no secret that the Decepticons had a brutal system of hierarchy that relied on shows of power. It made sense that Starscream wouldn't want to be seen in a vulnerable state. But there's still something he's missing.

"As far as I know," Ratchet presses carefully, "Starscream has not sustained any major injuries at the hands of the Autobots in recent stellar cycles."

You probably shouldn't be revealing so much information about the inner workings of the Decepticons, but as your hate for Megatron simmers into exhaustion, you slump on Ratchet's medical berth and decide to tell him anyway.

"Megatron... punishes him. A lot."

Ratchet seems slightly taken aback by that. Anyone with functioning optics could tell that the Decepticons were kept in line by fear, and it was no secret that violence ran rampant within the ranks - but to hear it so plainly that even their SIC was no exception? And to have you, trembling before him, desperate to help him, clearly knowing that rudimentary first aid was not enough for whatever injuries Megatron had inflicted - it must be worse than Ratchet had ever thought.

He checks his internal chronometer - you've been here for about a joor. Soon, someone is going to come looking for you, and neither faction is looking particularly appealing right now.

"We don't have much time. Hurry up and get over here."

Your helm shoots up as Ratchet pivots crisply away from you, suddenly all business. You leap off the medical berth, following him to a large table where he thunks down a heavy med kit. This Ratchet, intense, precise, laying a series of tools in front of you with deft servos, is undoubtedly the war medic that had earned every inch of respect he got. Now you understand why the Deceptions were so begrudgingly impressed by him.

Ratchet hesitates for a nanoklik before pulling out some even more complicated looking tools. Is this really happening? At your wide, awestruck optics, Ratchet huffs, a light flush of energon on his faceplate at your bursting admiration. "Alright already. Stop staring at me and pay attention."

Two joors pass before you hear the sounds of a commotion outside. Ratchet's audials flick agitatedly before he glances at you. "You'd better go," He murmurs, low and urgent.

Go? Just like that? Ratchet must have seen you freeze up in disbelief, because he snarls and springs into action for both of you, ushering you out of medbay and towards the groundbridge.

"I'm sure you know how to get back," He says, quick and curt, typing in a set of coordinates. The groundbridge shimmers to life. "Go," He orders, in a voice that brooks no argument. I'll handle this."

You give him one last, lingering glance before you step through the glowing green portal. Ratchet's staring at you too, something hovering unspoken in his optics. "Kid," He finally calls, as the sound of the commotion approaches. "No matter where this war takes you, be true to yourself."

You give him a jerky nod, overwhelmed but endlessly grateful.

With that, the groundbridge warps out of existence behind you, leaving behind a cacophony of Autobot shouts and abruptly plunging you back into the silent, sandy plain where you first met Bumblebee.

For a nanoklik, you feel so very alone.

But leaving Starscream was out of the question. Amidst all the uncertainty in the war, this is the one thing you're sure of. You leap into the air, transforming into your alt mode. If you were lucky, Starscream would still be on duty and you could sneak back before anyone had realized you were gone. You spiral through the air, picking up speed as night begins to fall. The flames of your thrusters illuminate the purple dusk as you add another burst of speed, your form now a screaming blur in the sky.

But before you can reach your destination, your destination reaches you first. Your only warning is a streak that blitzes into your field of vision before something huge and heavy tackles you out of the sky.

The impact completely knocks your systems offline for a nanoklik. Unable to even scream, you struggle to force your systems to reboot, gain back control of your frame as you hurtle towards the ground - but strangely enough, you quickly realize that you're not freefalling wildly through the air. Battling against the screaming winds at your back, you force your optics open to see none other than a furious Starscream, his servos gripping your arms with deathly force as he drives you downwards.

"Where the Pit were you?" He hisses, over the shrill whistling of air in your audials. "I've just spent the last few joors hunting every corner of this slagging dirtball for your sorry aft!"

As you plummet downwards, you struggle to make sense of his words. He was looking for you?

"What if Megatron got to you first?" He snarls, denta bared. "I told you to stay put! Do you treat my words like slag?"

You didn't think he'd catch you sneaking out, but you never imagined he'd be this angry. Both of you rocket through the clouds, the green environment of Earth swirling into your field of vision. Was this it? Had Starscream finally decided you were more trouble than you were worth? You wouldn't blame him. Shuttering your optics, you brace yourself for impact. His servos, where he's touching your frame, are warm. That's how you'd remember him, before you go out. Stolen moments of warmth with him. After all he'd done for you.

But over the screaming wind in your audials, your don't hear so much as feel his engines screech as he pulls up at the last minute. The warmth of his servos abruptly leave you, and your optics fly open as you are dropped a few meters above a patch of open grass and promptly eat ground. As you push yourself up with a groan, not so much sore but still ablaze with adrenaline, the realization suddenly hits. What Starscream did... Was not unlike how carriers and sires dealt with unruly seeker sparklings when they refused to leave the air. You shake your helm in disbelief, spitting out another mouthful of earth soil. Starscream... had quite literally grounded you. Huh.

You roll over to the sight of him seething above you, his ruby optics alight with rage, intake twisted in a snarl.

"Imagine," He hisses, looming over you, "When I learned you were being held captive by the Autobots - have you no sense of self-preservation in that scrap-filled processor of yours? Have I taught you absolutely nothing?"

His wings shudder with barely concealed anger as he begins to pace. "And of all the bots, it had to be that pit-slagged femme who blocked my way!"

Arcee? You're not too familiar with the Autobots, but you remember Starscream had literally shrieked himself into stasis after a particular battle with the Autobots over an energon mine, where a certain pink femme had foiled his plans at the very last nanoklik.

Wait. Arcee had blocked his way? You stare blankly at him as it sinks in that the commotion you heard earlier... was in fact Starscream singlehandedly blasting his way through the Autobot base to save you.

"Oh," You say.

"Oh?" Starscream screeches, wings twitching furiously. "Oh? That's all you have to say for yourself?"

You still can't bring yourself to speak as you gaze up at him. And slowly, a smile splits your faceplate. You can't help it. You smile big and bright up at your commander. "What?" He demands shrilly. "What is it?" He does falter, rage dropping momentarily from his faceplate and muting into confusion when you start to laugh. Relief, adrenaline, admiration, all at once.

"It was worth it." You gasp, through your fit on the ground. All this was worth it for Starscream, who'd against all better judgement risked his own helm to come looking for you, because he was worried. You'd carefully filed away every detail of Ratchet's instruction this afternoon. With the knowledge he'd bestowed upon you and extra bandages in your subspace, the gamble had paid off, because the chances of you preserving Starscream's spark had skyrocketed if the worst came to pass.

Starscream just stares at you, a hysterically giggling heap on the ground. "It was worth it!" You shriek, because Starscream is the one who found you and for now, you are safe.

You finally come back to yourself after a few cycles of wheezing almost soundlessly in your relief. You're sure there's coolant smeared over your faceplates and you look like a mess, but you don't give a frag - not when your stupid plan actually came to something. "Sir," You sigh to Starscream, who's still frozen above you, optics tracking your faceplate as you finally simmer down. "I'm going to have the best recharge of anybody today."

Unexpectedly, this douses Starscream's anger. He studies you carefully for a nanoklik. You take this rare moment to shamelessly drink in his handsome features - the sharp, defined ridges of his cheeks, the brightness of his optics, and the disapprovingly flattened line of his intake (okay, but still). Did he think that the nightmares, the war had finally broken your processor? It had happened to a few of the Decepticons. That would explain the flicker of worry in his optics - but he seems to find what he's looking for in your faceplate, so he simply sighs, all of a sudden looking more tired than you've seen him. He extends a servo to you.

"Get up."

You gingerly put your servo in his much larger one, feel his fingers close around yours as he pulls you up with much more gentleness than you're sure you deserve.

"I won't ask," Starscream begins. His optics flash. "But I will find out sooner or later."

You nod, trying for serious, but you must still have vestiges of a smile on your faceplate. Starscream stares at you and plants his hands on his hips.

"And don't think this will go unpunished. You think sneaking out is funny? Not when I'm through with you. You'll have done so many circuits of the 16-point roll that your wings will have dropped off by then. Sneaking off? Primus help you if it happens again. You think I'm coming to drag your sorry aft back home? Hah!"

I mean. He would come for you, but you wisely keep this to yourself as he gesticulates wildly to prove his point, even if both of you know it's more for show than anything.

Finally, he finishes his tirade with a huff. "It's dark," He says shortly, and glances at you. In the dark, his optics cast a soft glow on your faceplate.

"Eugh. Primus, wipe that stuff off your faceplate or it'll stain." Two large servos come down either side of your helm, and you can't help but flinch as Starscream swipes his thumbs over your cheeks to clean the coolant off. Still admonishing you, but his voice is forgiving and wraps around you like a warm blanket. "Stop squirming."

Finally, your faceplate relatively un-smudged, Starscream breaks apart from you. You try to soak in this moment as long as possible, wishing it could always be like this. Just the two of you, under a sky full of stars. This planet's view of the solar system could really be beautiful. You glance back to find Starscream looking at you, also looking reluctant to leave. However, he has to play the bad guy. He always does.

"Come on," He says, but it's gentle. "Let's go."

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