#but it always seems to go back to making them pale asf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buttercupblu · 1 month ago

Text

i wanna fucking tear you apart

Vampire SuguChoso x Reader|Halloween Special Three-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: oh god, where do we begin? let's start in the home of the supernatural, shall we? the great city of New Orleans. and you are absolutely about to shit bricks for having to return here, and not for a reason any sane person would believe. you don't even want to say it out loud and make it real, make them real. but you have to find them, someone's life is at stake if you don't. and the worst part? you reluctantly have to rely on someone, something you've spent years convincing yourself was just a figment of your imagination. be careful reader—or not, you seem to get off on that—because you're about to walk headfirst into something that's going to change your entire world and make you question everything you swore you'd never believe in. w.c: issa surprise. whoever gets the closest, gets a drabble of their choice (restrictions apply. i have to be familiar with the show/story. drop an ask to participate :3) tags: summoning ritual w/ special guest possessive Ghost Gojo who is annoying asf as always but even moreso bc now he can bounce all over the place, ghostly touches, hands up skirts, no bathroom privacy?, taunting and flirting through sexual assault, he's obsessed with your smell and is a panty-sniffer 🧍🏾‍♀️, cunnilingus, fingering, P in V and literally getting the breath knocked out of you, creampie? (you'll understand), coercion for a taste, rutting, and you don't know if you hate him for all of it by the end of the beginning of your journey angel’s note: Satoru...please.. earworm 🐛: tonight you belong to me remix, or the original by Patience and Prudence, it's creepier in my opinion but such a great song

—Believing—

You don't believe in vampires.

So why in the entire fuck are you standing outside of a restaurant hoping you'll be able to talk to a ghost?

You glance up at the sinking sun, the sky bruising with dusk as the nervous tap of your heel against the cobblestone almost syncs with your heart.

Be cool, be cool.

Surely no one's noticed you sitting here for the past 30 minutes, fidgeting with your fingers, mentally pacing back and forth trying to decide if you'll walk through those doors you haven't opened in 6 years.

Those pale green doors that hold centuries worth of secrets that can never escape.

Including...

But what if all of that was just in your head?

You were younger back then, new to New Orleans, and all those stories, legends, and creepy tales could have easily messed with you.

No.

You know what you saw.

What you felt.

What you heard. His voice. That smile...

Your chest feels like a knot tied too tight, yet a strange hope flutters beneath the nerves.

Hope that the past wasn't just some weird trick your mind played on you.

Because you could never forget it.

You just hope he hasn't forgotten you.

You take a breath watching the sun finally slip behind the horizon of the place of your eerie past. The old, chipped sign still hanging crooked above the door, and wrought-iron lanterns cast orange halos on the cracked sidewalk.

Closing time is near, and so is the truth you came here for.

But will this be another bust? Or will you finally get to confirm that all of it was real?

It has to be, he has to be...because he's the only one who can help you find where they are. If they even truly exist.

And the second you finally muster up the strength to face and push through those heavy, creaking doors, there's no turning back.

Walking in feels like you've gone back in time, and everything is just as you left it.

"Hi, welcome to Muriel's." The hostess greets you with a smile that you try to reflect back, hoping that she won't notice your nerves—or worse, that someone from your past will recognize you. "Just to let you know, we will be closing in about 30 to 35 minutes but you are welcome to dine in or takeout." And her eyes drift over your less-than-formal attire, a slight flicker of curiosity in her expression, but her pleasant smile never wavers.

You clear your throat. "Dine in, please," you say, and she nods, tucking a menu and silverware under her arm before leading you through the over-the-top space—each step digging you further into the rabbit hole. The details of what you left behind propels you back into the past, and suddenly you're 19 again, juggling plates and wiping down tables under the watchful gaze of the old regulars. When you last worked here.

The hum of conversation fills the space, but you tune it out, your eyes scanning for familiar things. What the restaurant purposefully lacks on the outside, is equally lacking on the inside.

The tables, dressed in those heavy burgundy cloths. The stuffy velvet chairs, more decoration than comfort. The twinkling glass chandelier that always sparkled a little too brightly for the dark, moody space, and the drapey curtains, still tacky as ever, decorate the walls and clash between the old-world elegance and overdone theatrics.

The bar stools are still worn in the same places, and the corner booth where the kitchen staff would gather to sneaks shots of whiskey after closing still stands strong.

You don't see anyone you recognize—thankfully—but the atmosphere still feels the same. Especially when it seems like the walls are watching you, their quiet judgment as thick and heavy as the air filled with the smell of fried shrimp, garlic, and something bitterly sweet, like old wine left to ferment for too long.

Walking past the table where you used to sit with your tips, counting down the hours until closing and sweet escape, feels heavy, and every step after is like pulling back a curtain on memories you buried deep, unsure if they ever really even happened. But every flicker of light, every clink of glass, makes your heart race just a little—confirming some kind of PTSD because even if your brain doesn't remember, your body does.

The whispers. The rattling. The presence. Always there, but never seen.

Showing up here almost every single day was definitely the bane of your existence, but you couldn't just quit, not back then.

You needed the money to make ends meet, especially when you chose to go to school out of state.

A broke college student struggling to stay afloat in the wild and "haunted" streets of New Orleans where every shadow told a story and every corner whispered a myth.

NOLA, of all places: home of the supernatural you've never believed, and yet here you are, purposely choosing to have a seat at its table. And nervously glancing over at thee table, perfectly set as if waiting for someone special, yet desolate and tucked away from the rest. The phantom feeling of what happened there years ago creeps through your body as you pick at your meal, trying to ignore the urge to bolt on what you think is the stupidest plan you've ever had in your entire life.

By the time you finish up, your heart is pounding, but despite being the worst place you've ever worked in, the food is still as good as you remembered. It always felt like a home you've never visited, soothing your body and making you fight tendrils of sleep.

The restaurant quiets as the final patrons start to leave and you're one of the last stragglers. You pay your tip and stack your dishes out of habit, and now the real waiting begins. "Shut up, shut up," you say to your gut feeling. "I can do this." And you take one last deep breath and yourself before you head towards where everything first went down: the bathroom.

The long, narrow corridor seems darker than ever, the black walls and red carpet only adding to the sense of isolation where you'll be camping out until closing.

You catch a glimpse in the large mirror and pause, barely recognizing yourself��nerves tightening your expression, tension locking your shoulders.

You look like you've already seen the ghost you've come to meet, but give yourself a reassuring head nod, though it feels hollow. Nevertheless, you enter the stall where it all began. Of all the places to meet a ghost...it had to be while you were hovering over a toilet seat. That perv.

Crouching into place, you pull your knees into your chest and try to steady your nerves, listening to the sounds of the restaurant closing—clattering dishes, murmuring voices—all of it mingling with your thumping heartbeat.

This is so stupid, you think, hiding in here like this, feeling so ridiculous you try not to laugh at the sheer stupidity of it all. But the thought of backing out now and being like "Oops, my bad." to the staff feels even crazier. You're officially in too deep to turn back now.

You shift in your spot and try to get comfortable, knowing that closing can take quite a while in a place this large and "fancy". But your anxiety is not having it, and you nearly lose your balance, your feet slipping and almost falling into the bowl. You curse, gripping the sides of the stall for stability when you freeze, swearing that you heard a snicker.

You hold your breath thinking you've been caught, but when a silent moment passes then two, you huff and shake your head like an Etch-a-Sketch. You know must be hearing things but fuck, how long is this going to take?

It's nerve-wracking when the staff do finally come in to do bathroom checks, but after what feels like an eternity, you're sure the coast is finally clear. When you creep out of the stall, the restaurant is eerily still now that it's fully closed, and once you've collected yourself, you make your way out, finally ready to sit at the table you've been staring holes into all evening.

The velvet rope falls to the side as you part the way. Your fingers trail over the cold cutlery on the table—the finest in the restaurant, decked with gold trim and sitting on porcelain platters. A small smile tugs at your lips. He's always been the type to require the finer things, even in death. Though you're surprised he hasn't turned the place upside down at the slight wrinkle you catch in the tablecloth.

You sink into the chair, the soft and barely worn cushion molding beneath you, almost welcoming you to the table amidst the unsettling darkness, urging you to quickly pull out your candle and a pair of lace panties. Doubts swarm your mind, but you begin anyway, preparing to start the ritual you've never tested before and solely banking on what you've come to know and what you've experienced.

But what if he doesn't show up?

He hasn't the last few times you've visited, and this...this is the most extreme measure you've taken so far.

If this doesn't work, then nothing will, and you hold your breath as you give the match a hard look before striking it, watching the flame cast a glow in the shadows before bringing it to the wick and lighting the darkness.

The restaurant seems even more disturbing as you glance around the dark. Watching, waiting for any movement, any indication of a presence, of his presence. He's never been predictable, so good at surprises and keeping you on your toes as you worked your shifts from the sun up until it set late at night. Giving you the biggest of scares the first time you felt a brush of your ankle in the bathroom. Thank God you were already on the toilet.

Now, all you can do is wait. Wait and hope that tonight is diff—

Goosebumps rise on your skin and that PTSD kicks in again, catching a glimmer of light in the corner of your eye as a sudden chill creeps in, slithering over your skin. It's subtle at first, like a draft through an open window, but quickly intensifies, feeling the temperature drop by several degrees. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, and for a second, you swear you can see your breath fog in the dim light of the unnatural cold.

Your arms cross over your chest, instinctively rubbing warmth into your skin, and just when you go to wrap the sweater you brought around your body, it hits you—that smell you could never forget or find anywhere else. Heavy, almost suffocating. Filling your nose and seeping into every breath when you hear his voice echo out of nowhere.

"Panties for dinner?" The voice curls around you, laced with that same mischievous edge you remember from years ago.

"Shit!" Your stomach plummets into your ass when you look up. Across the room, in the dim reflection of a nearby mirror, you see him. White, ghostly hair sitting atop a tall, slim figure, his form hazy around the edges like smoke threatening to dissipate.

You can't make out all of him, but the presence is unmistakable. And standing right behind you.

You can't even breathe, frozen, staring at the mirror and his sly grin. But when your fight kicks in and you whip around, there's nothing, just empty air and your hot breath floating in it, and you nearly pee yourself when you turn back and he's sitting right across from you. Calm, composed, and smug as ever, resting in his favorite seat in the house. Reserved just for him.

He leans back, white cotton-clad arms crossing behind his head, his ghostly form flickering in and out of the dim light—almost making him completely translucent save for the reflection in his circular sunglasses. "I know times are changing but—" he tilts them down to eye the lace panties you've laid out. "Even I wouldn't think of adding such a delicacy to the menu."

You release a breath you didn't know you were holding and swallow. "Hello, Gojo."

You never thought you'd say that name again, feeling foreign, yet familiar on your tongue, and though you were just scared out of your wits, relief washes over you. Because at last you know you're not crazy. Not then, and not now.

He's real, and now eyeing you up and down as if you're the next thing on the menu.

Seeing him brings back a flood of memories—memories of late-night shifts, of him toying with you when no one else would be bothered.

Though you've never been the type to believe in anything you can't see, working here taught you differently, and you learned that ghosts are surprisingly easy to find. Or at least, it's easy for them to find you.

He laughs. "Damn, really?" raising a brow, "What's with the formalities?" And he sounds offended for a reason you almost forget why before he has hearts in his eyes.

"Look at you," he says, his voice a soft puff, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. His pale blue eyes gleam with something between amusement and enticement as he takes you in. "All grown up," he pops. "And here after all these years. I didn't think you'd have the guts to come back...and bring such...interesting offerings." His lips curl into a slow smirk.

“Well, Satoru,” your lips purse, “It’s not like I haven’t been trying," you say remembering the frustration of the past few weeks. “I figured something…unconventional might work. Finally.”

He tsks, casually lifting the lace and dangling it on the end of his fingers before wrapping it in his hand. Eyeing you with mischief as he brings the offering to his face and drowns his nose.

“You know…” he breathes deeply, “I’ve yet to find anyone else who smells as sweet as you.” His eyes flutter shut a moment as if savoring the scent, his grip tightening. Then, as quickly as the moment came, his expression darkens, his tone going low and sharp eyes snapping open before they narrow. “You can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to have something like that stripped away from you.”

The words hang in the air, thick and cutting. And you know exactly what he means.

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” The question that's been gnawing at you spills out, weighed with weeks of trying and failing to reach him since you first came back, wondering why he wouldn’t show. “Because I left?”

Gojo scoffs, smacking his teeth, and looks away, still holding the lace before dismissively letting them fall to the table. “Is it even worth asking?” His eyes flicker back to yours, dripping with disdain. “You sound so sure. Less of a coward now than you were back then,” he mutters, a bitter edge creeping in that knots your stomach.

“Tell me,” he leans, voice crawling with vice, “…was I too much for you that night?” And your throat tightens, memories of your last shift at Muriel’s rushing back full force.

Most tourists who flock to this charming, haunted restaurant only know the glossy version of its history.

It’s themed, plays up its rumors, is gimmicky, and serves great food all in one curated pot.

But what most don’t know, is that back in the day, it actually used to be a house—a grand, extravagant mansion that was a symbol of wealth and power, drawing in the city’s elite. But all of that splendor needed someone just as luxurious to maintain it and its reputation for being the place to be if there ever was one.

And that someone was Gojo.

A filthy rich owner with an exorbitantly large bank account and an even larger love for hosting extravagant parties. He didn’t throw these gatherings just for fun—no, they were about keeping the eyes of the elite on him and his sprawling mansion. His house wasn’t just a home—it was a glittering symbol of his status.

And as famous as Gojo was for his parties, he was just as infamous for his way with women. A relentless womanizer, he cycled through lovers like the seasons, keeping them rotating out of his door like clockwork and was quick to turn down anyone tried to trap him with promises of children or love.

Gojo very much valued his freedom, up until he took his very last breath.

With no one to pass along his estate to, he left no heirs and no family to carry on his legacy, and everything he possessed was auctioned to the public. Being sold to someone just as wealthy and lucky enough to be able to continue the home’s reputation.

But even in death, Gojo didn’t care for sharing the spotlight, or his house.

Through the years, the infamous home was passed from hand to hand, and with each new arrival, Gojo made sure they knew he was still a guest with the same appetite for attention he’d always had.

His tricks started small, mere nuisances at first—footsteps in empty hallways, doors that wouldn’t stay shut, flickers of lights just as someone reached for the switch. But anyone who dared to claim the house as their own quickly realized that Gojo wasn’t the type to share his space. Years passed, and the mansion’s reputation grew darker. Haunted, they said.

No one could live there without being tormented by the mischievous, jealous ghost of its original owner, making no one want to touch it with a 10-foot pole. For quite some time, the formerly luxurious home sat on the market, a ghost of itself collecting dust and weary stares from passersby familiar and foreign. But it wasn't until someone got the brilliant idea to say fuck it and try to bank on the legends that it was finally opened to the public, done in a way that was guaranteed to attract people from around the world—by turning it into a restaurant. And consequently making Gojo’s antics truly infamous.

At first, the new owners didn’t believe the stories. It’s just old pipes and drafty halls, they said. But that excuse wore thin. Quickly.

They would return to tables flipped overnight, chairs scattered around the space like a storm had blown through. Champagne glasses, polished and neatly stacked at closing, would go flying across the bar and shatter against the walls by morning. Whispers could be heard in patrons’ ears during dinner and ruin appetites.

Workers began quitting. Customers stopped coming.

Eventually, enough was enough, and the owners, desperate and undoubtedly true believers now, decided to strike a deal with the restless spirit and finally appeal to his easily bruised ego. And they set up an exquisite V.I.P. table just for him, even going so far as to allow reservations to be made to have dinner with him and appeal to his sense of companionship once every blue moon.

Once again, Gojo was the center of attention, and just like that, the chaos stopped.

For regular diners, at least. But then, you came along.

At first, it was subtle—small things that could easily be dismissed as accidents or coincidence.

A fork slipping from your grasp, a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye.

You’d been warned about Gojo when you were hired but quickly dismissed it as a funny story to tell tourists (like you weren’t borderline new to the city yourself).

You didn’t believe—not in ghosts, not in any of it.

That is, until the antics became too much to ignore, and Gojo grew tired of playing games.

The whispers weren’t vague murmurs anymore—they were in your ear, low and teasing and calling your name.

The pranks weren’t harmless either—pinches of the fat on your thighs almost made you drop dishes, gushes of wind fluttered your skirt, exposing your flesh to customers, cool breaths ghosted your neck while taking orders. And on the more vulgar end of the scale, you learned that Gojo had an infatuation with your panties, ghosting his hand under your skirt to skim the fabric and trap remnants of you on his fingers to smell and taste. And when that wasn’t enough, he would resort to stealing them, almost always running off with a pair before the end of your shift so he could relish your intoxicating scent while you were away.

He wanted your attention and was relentless, loving to see you flustered and squirming. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had it.

Then came that night.

The night everything changed.

It was a quiet evening at Muriel's.

The last of the guests had filtered out, the last of the servers and kitchen staff had gone save for a few, and only a soft clatter of dishes in the back and the low hum of the kitchen being scrubbed down kept your company at the end of your shift.

And it had become the usual for you to be the only one left at the end of the day. Ever since your promotion to shift lead, you were the one expected to close up most days. It was a small step-up—more responsibility, slightly more money—but it almost meant longer hours, on top of still being a full-time student. The bags under your eyes couldn't be darker, but someone had to make sure everything was in order before locking up. You were happy to take the extra cash and kill some debt, but nights like that one—when the restaurant was eerily still, and you were the only one walking its halls—made you question if the raise was really worth it.

You were wiping down and fixing the last of tables, mind drifting, tired, and very, very ready to go home and start your second shift on your school assignments.

You felt your muscles slowly tensing, your movements growing slow and stiff. The air was growing cold as fuck, colder than it'd ever been in the restaurant making hairs stand on your arms and your brows furrow. You wondered if the heat had finally kicked out in the old place when a familiar scent hit you. A thick, heady fragrance that'd been haunting you for weeks—opulent, like aged leather, tobacco, and something sweet like an overripe plum. You'd smell it before, but it was stronger than ever that night, filling the air like a thick perfume that almost made you choke and your heart quicken. Because you were the only one in the restaurant.

A whisper right in your ear almost sent you to glory. "Leaving so soon, beautiful?"

You jolted, a rush of heat and cold spiraling through you as you whipped around expecting to find an empty room as usual, but your rag slipped from your fingers.

Because this time, there it was.

Not just a flicker of light, not just a trick of the shadows—but standing there, casually leaning against the bar as if it'd been waiting for you. Its hair white and ghostly, catching the low light and loosely floating around its sharp, pale face. A man, unworldly and almost hypnotically angelic.

God, he was a vision of the past, looking like he'd stepped straight out of the 18th century. Dressed in a loose, long-sleeved cotton shirt that wasn't buttoned all the way, revealing his chest and looking impossibly soft as it bobbed around him with every subtle move. Untouched by the laws of physics like it had a life of its own along with his baggy, almost billowing pants that seemed more of an accessory to his form than a garment.

He looked like he was floating in water.

But it wasn't just the look of him that struck you—it was his presence.

You'd been receiving little snippets of the supposed guilty party for months, but now he was revealing his full form and moving around the room with an ease that was unnerving. Graceful in a way that made him seem more like a dream than a ghost, his feet barely touching the ground as he circled you—a predator accessing its prey.

He wore circular sunglasses, perched right on the bridge of his nose. The modern touch starkly contrasted the vintage quality of his existence and made him all the more haunting. They reflected the dim light and hid his eyes, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze piercing right through you.

He smiled—lazy, dangerous, and knowing—like he could see every one of your thoughts. "Like what you see?" And your stomach twisted. Because whether you wanted to admit it or not, you couldn't deny that you had been waiting for him.

For months, Gojo had been playing with you, pushing and teasing to the brink of borderline insanity. But never in your wildest thoughts did you expect this. Not for him to ever fully reveal himself. Or for him to be so...ethereally gorgeous in a way that made your mouth dry.

You couldn't help but to stare, captivated by his strange, almost unsettling beauty. You'd been told about his promiscuity, his natural ability to captivate women and now you could see how.

He was an enigma, an impossible class of time periods—both out of place and yet perfectly at home in this old, creaky restaurant.

And despite every instinct screaming at you to get the hell out of Dodge, you were drawn to him, just as you had been since that very first whisper in your ear that made you second-guess reality.

"Well, say something." He laid his cheek on his palm. "Or am I just that handsome?"

And there it was—that egregious arrogance you'd heard so much about dripping from every word, as if he hadn't been terrorizing you from the moment you stepped foot in the place or just given you the jumpscare of your life. Though, what threw you off the most was the way he didn't sound like you expected; his voice didn’t match the way he dressed or the era period he seemed to belong to. It was subtly modern, as if he'd been changing his speech as the years went on.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased, and you swallowed hard, struggling to find your own voice, but the sight of him, his sheer presence, made it almost impossible.

“I’m not scared,” you finally croaked out, lifting your chin, though your voice betrayed you. And the second the words left your mouth, you regretted them, his brows raising and grin widening as he sensed the challenge in your words.

"Not scared, huh?" He stepped closer until the distance between you was almost nonexistent, calling your obvious bullshit by the way you could barely handle his taunts during your day shifts. He paused.

"Boo!"

You jumped, then immediately felt like a little bitch for falling for the oldest trick in the book. You didn't find anything funny but Gojo roared and slapped his knee. "Awww, you're so cute when you're pissed," he remarked, wiping a fake tear at your scowling face. But then his sensual smile returned, reaching out to tilt your chin. "So what'll get you riled up then, brave little waitress?" And he's behind you before you could turn away, running your blood cold as his nose grazed your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair.

You swatted at him, more out of instinct than logic and quickly spun around—only to find nothing. Just empty space and the faint scent of him still hanging in the air like a ghost.

Fuck, where is he?

Your heart thundered in your ears, each breath coming quicker and quicker as your wide eyes scanned the room.

Panic surged through you, fighting to steady your nerves when you turned back and there he was, inches away from your face.

"Fu—!" You flinched and he snickered. "Still not scared?" And he took another step forward.

Your shaky breaths said yes but your head shook no, trying to stand your ground even as your feet moved backwards.

"No?" he grinned, closing the distance between you with every step. "Good. I don't want you to be." Still, his eyes glinted behind those ridiculous shades that hid too much and made it impossible to think straight. Your body moved on autopilot, flight instead of fight kicking in, until the small of your back collided with something solid.

Your breath hitched, aimlessly reaching behind to steady yourself when the soft, velvety fabric sent pins and needles through your body, slowly realizing that you had bumped into the table you just spent too much time painstakingly freshening up earlier—his table.

His grin was positively wicked now and he watched it dawn on your face, registering the fact that you had bumped into the very thing you unironically set up for him. The cool surface pressed into your lower back, cutlery clinking and shifting beneath your fingers as you pondered escape, but you were trapped.

Gojo leaned over you. "Funny," his cool breath brushed your cheek. "I've been watching you for a while now, you know," he mused, his hand slowly creeping up your thigh. His fingers barely brushed beneath your fluffy work skirt but jolts still rocked through you, and you stiffened as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

"I can detect heart rates," he continued, voice a low purr. "And yours? I've been listening to it for months since I first started...playing with you." He smirked. "How it slows down when you think it's all in your head. How it spikes every time something moves that isn't supposed to. How scared you look when you can't figure out what's happening."

He practically towered over you now, and he down to brush the shell of your ear with his lips as he added, "But it's never beat this fast before." And a breath caught in your throat when his hand slid higher, his fingers curling around the divet of your hip.

"You take such good care of my table, doll. No one has done it better since it's been here." Your knees went weak feeling him knead and trace patterns over your hip with his thumb. "Sooo," he smiled against your ear, "It's only fair I put all that hard work to good use right?"

You tried to twist away, you really did, but it was a fruitless attempt to put some distance between you and the ghost. His grip was ironclad and anchoring you to the table, even in his spectral form, and it reminded you that though he was just a spirit, his strength was all too real, and the cool burn seeped through you, yet contrasted the involuntary warmth pooling between your legs.

You swore under your breath as your body betrayed you with each ghostly touch, shivers cascading down your spine. Your jaw clenched as you tried to ignore the arousal gathering in your panties, but Gojo was no amateur. He had done this dance for far too long and far too many times, and he knew the signs better than anyone.

He pulled back just enough to really get a good look at you, the smirk never leaving his face as he took in the blush creeping up your face. The rapid rise and fall of your swelling chest, the way you tugged on your lower lip in a poor attempt to maintain some semblance of control.

"I'll stop if you tell me to," he murmured so sincerely, but it felt like a trick as his other thumb now traced slow, maddening circles up your inner thigh, inching ever closer to the heat radiating from your core. You started to protest, but the words died in your throat when he finally brushed the damp fabric of your panties.

Your mouths fell open, both of you caught entirely off guard at how surprisingly wet you were.

Gojo let out a breathless chuckle, eyes darkening beneath his glasses at the feel of your warm slick. "Just say the word, beautiful," a silken whisper that seemed to wrap around you along with the continuously languid strokes of your puckering clit.

"Hah," you reluctantly moaned, panic mingling with helplessness in a battle between your mind and body.

Because there was no denying the effect he was having on you.

The gradual build-up of unhinged chemistry had unknowingly begun even when he was just an easily dismissive taunt—no matter how much you wanted to resist.

And the bastard knew it.

Reveled in it even, his ghostly fingers toying with the elastic edge of your panties and teasing you with the promise of something more. You just had to say yes.

No.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the fabric of the table bunching under your fingers as you tried to reason with yourself, to not drink the stupid bitch juice, but with each stroke, each tormenting touch, your resolve crumbled more and more.

"Look at me." His tone left no illusion of choice, and your eyes fluttered open to meet the reflection of your pathetic face in his sunglasses. The distorted image mocked you before he pulled them down the bridge of his nose. "Good girl." The corner of his lip tucked under his teeth and he rewarded you with a firmer touch that made your hips involuntary buck towards him with a mewing "Ah!"

His ghostly laugh filled the room and vibrated through his hand resting between your legs. "I wonder," his brow quirked, eyes wandering over your body. "What other sounds I can draw out of you?"

You tried to respond, lips hot and ready to tell him to go to hell, but the only sound that escaped you was a strangled whimper feeling his fingers hook under your panties and pull them aside, exposing you to the cool air as you looked into his intense gaze. He didn't even have to look to know that you were absolutely dripping, and heat bloomed in your face, your thighs rushing to clamp shut but his other hand firmly held you open.

"So stubborn," he smiled, feeling so lucky he was already dead by the way your eyes shoot daggers, and he got an idea looking at your cute tight-lipped face. "Let's see how long you can keep up that fight of yours, hmm?" And he continued his dizzying but purposely feather-light strokes, determined to bring you to the precipice of shattering into pieces.

If you thought you were crazy before, you felt absolutely insane now the way you had two voices on your shoulder, an Angel and a Devil.

This is a ghost, for God's sake, the angel panicked, screaming about the sheer insanity of the situation.

That dick might hit different though, the Devil argued, voice husky and persuasive, reminding you of endlessly late nights spent studying and the dry spells that came with it. Typical of an obnoxiously busy youth battling between college and work.

It'll literally be out of this world sis, the Devil purred, and though you wanted to cringe at your conscious's bad joke, you couldn't help but acknowledge it as something that just might be true. Because despite the disbelief you were in about the reality of your situation, Gojo's very real, very rock-hard, and solid dick pressing against your knee was undeniable. And the idea of it sinking between your walls snuck into your head all on its own.

Your hand trembled, reaching out, wanting—no, needing to feel the subtly thumping temptation that promised a release you hadn't experienced in far too long. The outline wasn't enough, you needed to feel its girth, its length, and your shaky fingers ghosted right through him.

"Ah ah ah," he chided, caressing your cheek. "Not until you say yes." And you felt physically ill as you took a second to even hesitate. To consider. Absolutely mad. Insane. And disgustingly aching with a need so strong it made your head hurt until both of your bickering voices fell silent when you blurted, "Yes!"

And the world itself held its breath.

But it was all Gojo needed, his eyes flashing in triumph with a devious smirk. And in a movement too fast for your eyes to see, he hoisted you up and turned you over, a gasp escaping your lips and he pushed you into a sinful arch until your chest planted on the table.

The heat of his gaze was blazing, taking in such a lewd display that was begging to be touch, and who was he to resist? Allowing his hands to roam your body with an urgency that left you breathless, his touch cold yet exhilarating and racing your beating heart.

Nudging your legs apart, he crouched down, cooing.

"Even prettier than I imagine." Pushing a huff out of you as his thumb slid in, slowly stretching you and coating his finger in your fluids that made his already translucent finger glisten.

His lips curled into a devilish grin at the sight of you, sprawled out of the table, your face flushed with desire and breaths short and needy. He brought his thumb to his lips, tasting you and almost dying all over again, the mix of savory sweetness and tangy heat making his already painfully hard cock twitch with anticipation.

"Delicious," he purred, "But I need more," and you couldn't even process his words before his hands were on your thighs and spreading you wide, his breath cool against your heated flesh. Then his mouth was on you, tongue tracing circles around your sugary clit, lazy but heavy when your head shot up, feeling him suck it into his mouth with an expertise that made your hand shoot out and try to tangle your fingers in his hair. Helplessly whining and squirming, yet failing to pull him closer to grind down on his face to chase his tongue because he was a ghost after all.

But he was in bliss with your taste and obliged your silent wish, dipping in and out of your core and bringing you to the brink of shattering into a million pieces if it hadn't been for the dick in his pants that was so impatient, and you groaned feeling him pull away with a huff.

"Sweet girl," he murmured, lips glistening with your watery mess as he rose to his feet. "Like a sweet, delectable dish." His thumb rolled over your slit. "But I want to feel you come undone on my cock." And you jumped when you felt his thick, hard length teasing your entrance. Sending a jolt through your body at the sensation of his cool, ghostly flesh against your warm pussy before his hands dug into your hips and he slammed into you with a force so strong it knocked the breath from your lungs.

In an instant, you both froze, him buried to the hilt inside you and feeling your unprepared pussy squeeze and struggle to adjust to being so unbelievably full. Feeling every ridge, every vein of his cock throbbing inside of your tight, little walls.

He groaned, "Fuck," hissing and fingers digging into your flesh as he fought for control. "You feel so..." Losing his words, his hips began to move, thrusts slow and deliberate as he started fucking you and fucking you good after months of build-up and playing with you. Shaking the table until it creaked and groaned, the cutlery clinked and dishes fell to the ground as he drove into you again and again and again making your hands scramble to find purchase on the table and hang on.

It was too much. It was heaven on a very big, very thick, drool-inducing stick. It was so delicious that the intense ache bordered pain and made you want to get away yet run towards it at the same time. But he wasn't about to let you go anywhere.

"I don't know who you've been holding out on me for," he gruffed, eyeing screwing shut at your tight, fluttering pussy, "But tonight, you belong to me." And he punctuated his point with deep, harsh, thrusts.

"Go-Go-GoJO." You stammered over his name wanting to beg for relief, but he just wrapped a hand under your neck and pulled you back against him.

"Call me, Satoru, doll," and he kissed your cheek, still bullying your pussy until your walls caved and hungrily sucked him in.

"Sa-Satoru," you managed, almost breathless, "I'm going to..hah, I'm about to..."

You couldn't even get them out, damn near blacking out when you came and came hard, a powerful, unexpectantly early orgasm ripping through your convulsing body. Wave after wave after of white-hot pleasure washed over you until your body went limp against him and your legs crumbled as he let you collapse against the table.

But he wasn't finished yet and he bit his lips, still deeply pushing through your sore and fluttering walls, his mind a heady mix of egotistical pride and unyielding desire as he felt you shudder and unravel beneath him. He marveled at the sight of you utterly defeated yet still clinging to the table, the way your sweet voice called out his name in ecstasy, and every shaky breath and tremble as he pushed you into overstimulation until his own breath grew uneven.

His release was coming and coming fast, the telltale sign tightening in his core as he watched your ass ricochet off his snapping hips, teetering on the edge of release.

His fingers dug into your nearly limp body and held you in place, each thrust becoming more desperate and erratic because even though his dick was a punisher and you were practically lifeless, your pussy was still whooping his ass. Coaxing him to dig deeper and deeper and look Nirvana right in the face until with a hoarse groan, he finally shattered and moaned your name, knocking your hips into the table and stilling right against your cervix until he spilled into you with a fierce, unrestrained release that left him trembling and breathless and you heady and wondering if you could get pregnant by a ghost.

Huffing, he folded over you, feeling like life had been pulled out of him once again, needing to be as close to you as possible as he grasped the fat of your ass between his fingers. "Fuck, love," he said, damn-near delirious, and the words slipped out before he knew what he was saying. "I would've made you a wife in my first life." But you didn't even have enough consciousness to process the never-before-said words that many before you would've given their very soul to hear.

As the world around you faded to black, the only thing you were aware of was the feeling of Gojo's body pressed against yours and him murmuring your name in your ear like a promise, and to this day you still don't know what he meant by putting your hard work to good use because after allowing him to have his way, his table was left in absolute shambles.

Those few minutes of pure, carnal delirium had burned into you, leaving you shook, figuratively and literally for weeks, even after the semester ended and you returned home for the summer.

And while most would think that would have been the best night in your entire existence and left you begging for more, it actually left you rattled to your core and questioning your sanity. Seeing him, feeling him, almost every night after in your dreams.

Convinced that the pressure of academics, a new city, and your overworked imagination had become too much, you made a choice—one that resulted in you transferring schools and never returning to New Orleans. You left behind your job and all the friends you made and told yourself that the encounter with Gojo had to be nothing more than a full mental breakdown. And yet...

The feeling of him lingered with you for years. So real, so vivid like he was somehow watching, somehow waiting for you to—

"Earth to beautiful." His voice sliced through your trip down memory lane, dragging you back to the present. You blink, realizing with a start that he was no longer sitting across from you.

Following his voice, your gaze darted to the left, and there he was again, lounging on one of the plush chairs in the corner of the restaurant.

You shift in your seat, hesitating as the memories collide with the present. "No," you start, remembering his question. "It wasn't that..."

Gojo's playful smile dims just a little but enough to notice. "Then enlighten me, doll, because last I remember, you just up and left without so much as a goodbye."

You swallow, the knot of guilt building in your stomach. "It wasn't because of you—"

His laugh cut through your words, sharp and bitter, echoing off the walls when he vanishes only to reappear behind you. "Sure didn't feel that way to me, sweetheart."

You whip around to face him, but he's already gone, reappearing across the room, his shoulder leaning against the wall. "You thought I wouldn't notice?" His arms cross. "Didn't even come back for a single shift, just left me hanging like I had done something wrong...no one's ever done that before." And the way he's trying to suppress the sadness in his voice lets you know that he's obviously still salty about it.

For once, the entertainer had his own entertainment—genuine, proper, and unlike anything he ever experienced in the life he knew before and even after death. And it had been stripped away from him just like that.

"I didn't—" And he's gone again, this time materializing at the bar, resting his elbows on it like this whole conversation is nothing but a joke because truthfully, "I've missed playing with you," he confesses.

Heat rises in your cheeks, a mixture of flustered embarrassment and lingering guilt, and you don't know how to feel anymore. "I didn't leave because of you," you insist, but even to you, it sounds weak.

"Then what was it?" Gojo taunts, appearing at a table closer to you, leaning forward in that all-too-familiar lazy, arrogant pose. "Got spooked? Couldn't handle me?" His defensiveness makes it clear he' isn't really listening. "Or maybe..." his voice drops low, "You liked it too much." And your pulse instantly spikes, his teasing combined with what may be a sliver of truth, making your skin prickle.

He watches you with a wolfish grin, knowing exactly what he's doing, how he's affecting you. And when the obvious look of frustration appears on your face before you start to chew him out, he's gone. And you've officially had it.

"Dammit, Gojo!" you snap, pushing up from his table. "Would you stop already?" Your eyes dart around for the source of your anger, trying to follow his shifting presence as he flickers in and out of view. "I came back to talk, not to play your stupid ass games again!" you shout, hoping that'll trigger him, but the room falls silent, the only sound being your own soft breath. You call for him but when he doesn't answer, for a moment, you feel regret, thinking maybe he's finally let his emotions get the best of him and he's disappeared forever.

"Tell me..." and in a sudden flicker, he's in front of you, his touch cold and electric as he softly brushes your cheek. "After all these years..." His fingers draw a slow line from your neck to your tummy. "Can you still feel me...down there?"

And your jaw slacks open,

You let out a short exhale, instinctively taking a step back, but Gojo is already pressing forward, making you stumble back until the cool wood of the bag digs into your lower back like déjà vu. You try to move but his hand is already on your waist, fingers possessively curling around you, and with a casual, effortless push, he hoists you onto the bar and parts your legs with ease before slotting himself between them as if he's always belonged there. And fuck it stirs something deep inside you.

You should be scrambling to get down, but you hate how easily your body reacts to him instead, how the pull between you feels just as strong as it did back then, as if the years apart meant nothing. But Gojo isn't afraid to throw away his ego to show you he misses you, even after all this time. And damn it, you feel absolutely insane realizing that part of you misses him too, even if it was just a few months of build-up and one explosive night.

But you're older now. You're not the same naïve girl he could easily swoon with a smirk and a whisper of words.

No, you were here for a reason and didn't hesitate to swallow down your confusing desire to stick to the mission. Even if it meant breaking his heart.

“Stop,” you say more to yourself than him, but the firmness in your voice surprises both of you. Pulling away from his lingering hands, you shake your head. “I’m not here for that.”

His hands freeze in place, and he leans back just enough to meet your eyes. “No?” He mocks surprise. “Then what are you here for, sweetheart? Because I’m having a hard time believing this isn’t it.”

You lift your chin, forcing out the words before you lose your nerve. “I need your help, Gojo.”

“Satoru,” he corrects you, but his smile slightly falters when he sees you’re serious.

“Help?” He tilts his head. “And here I thought you just missed me.” His smile widens, but there’s something dangerous in it now. Something that makes you remember just how unpredictable Gojo can be. And just you think he’s got the wrong idea and is going in for a kiss, he leans back and gives you space. He sighs, his arms crossing over his chest and gaze flickering over your face. “What could I possibly help you with?” And his willingness to listen is what surprises you the most, but you still can’t believe what you’re about to say, and you draw a steady breath to help get the words out.

“I need to find them.”

His brow quirks. “Them?”

“...the vampires.” And the second the word leaves your mouth, his grin falters.

For the first time since he appeared, the amusement completely drops from his face and suddenly, he's very careful with his words. “I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff.”

“I—” You hesitate, wanting to say that you don’t know what you believe in anymore. Never in your entire life did you expect to have a full-fledged conversation with a ghost, let alone be fucked into oblivion by one, but here you were, living reality as it was and anything was possible at this point, but instead, you just say what’s true. “Things have changed.”

“I see,” his eyes narrow as if weighing your words and he shrugs, walking off a bit. “Quite the 180,” he muses, “But who knows, maybe they’re real, maybe they’re not. Maybe I know,” and he turns back, leaning in. “Maybe I don’t,” he whispers.

His words taunt you, but it’s the look in his eyes that hold you captive, as if he’s trying to pull the truth right out of your skull. “Why? Why are you so eager to find them?” And you’re taken aback by his suddenly jealous tone.

“It’s my friend…” you start, and you feel pathetic for wanting to cry. “She’s missing.”

Gojo’s face slightly softens, but he doesn’t speak. You just know that he’s listening, truly listening now.

“She started acting all…weird before she disappeared,” you continue, your throat tightening as the memories of you meeting in college race through your mind. You stayed friends after you left, but she never did. “She mentioned vampires once, but I just thought she was messing around. NOLA, y’know?” You shrug. “I blew it off,” you confess, “But now…she’s gone and I—now I don’t know what else to think.” And all of the despair you’ve been suppressing finds its way to your chest.

But all Gojo cared about was getting an answer that satisfied him, and in an instant, he’s behind the bar, his fingers ghosting under your chin and tilting your head back until you’re forced to look at him.

“So this is about your friend then? Not the vampires?”

Your face twists. “Yeah, of course, what else?”

He looks off to the side, muttering something under his breath. Then his eyes narrow, glinting with something unreadable as they snap back to yours. “And why do you think I’m just going to hand you that kind of information? That I would even have it?” And the temperature around you drops so sharply you can see your breath hanging in the air.

The weight of what you're asking for sinks in when you see just how serious he is, even more so than the power Gojo holds, even if it is just secrets. And yet, here you are, asking him to hand it over like it was nothing. Your throat tightens, lips cold as you swallow hard, but you want him to know you're serious too. “Because I know you can help me, Satoru,” you say with deliberate emphasis. “I remember what you said once…about knowing things.”

If there was anyone in New Orleans who could provide the answers you needed, it was Gojo. He'd been around for centuries, passing through time and history and collecting secrets like currency with effortless charisma and casual conversation. He could easily draw out the most guarded truths from anyone he deemed important or anyone who fell for his seductive charm, always knowing which strings to pull. In this city where the supernatural runs deep, Gojo is a bank of information and the gatekeeper of everything hidden beneath the surface. And just from what you'd told him, he knew this situation was dire.

The silence that follows stretches too long for comfort, weighty as he just watches you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, panic flutters in your stomach.

Have you pushed him too far? Was this plan to reconnect with him for answers nothing more than a foolish misjudgment? What if Gojo chooses revenge and leaves you with nothing—all of this…for nothing?

But then, ever so slowly, that unmistakable smirk returns as he leans close enough to almost brush your cool lips. “Vampires, huh?” His mouth curls into a full, dangerous smile now. “You must be desperate, coming to me for that.”

Your gaze doesn’t waver, and you nod though you hate that it's true. “I am.” And Gojo chuckles, the sound both chilling and thrilling as he traces your jawline. “Then I suppose we’d better make this…interesting.” But you aren’t even surprised because if there was one thing you didn’t need to be told, it’s that Gojo never makes anything easy. Never has. But at least he’s willing to strike up a deal.

Gojo only agrees to tell you what you need to know on one condition: “I want to taste you,” he says simply, like it’s nothing. “That’s it.” And you can’t even fully process the words as his arm slips around your waist, gently pulling your back against his chest, his hand snaking down to find home between your legs. “I didn’t get to properly the first time,” he muses, his breath cool against your neck. Sharing the sentiment as if he knows you may never come back.

Your pulse quickens, the gravity of what he’s asking settling in. Memories of that night—the sheer intensity of it—clouding your judgment and flooding your mind like the heat building between your legs. The request hangs between you like a blade. Giving you a choice, but you know there’s no real option here. If you refuse, he might not give you what you need. But if you agree…

“That’s it?” you whisper. He nods. And after a moment’s ponder as his fingers tease against your skin and spur your decision, history repeats itself when you once again say yes.

In an instant, he’s on his knees in front of you, eliciting a gasp from you when he swiftly pulls you to the edge of the bar. He blissfully hums, his hands gliding up and down your thighs like silk before parting them like the Red Sea. He ogles you, the blue of his eyes flaring at the sight of your unclothed and oh-so-pretty, glistening cunt confirming what he already knew, that the lace panties you used to summon him had come freshly off your body.

His eyes darken with desire, never leaving yours as he leans in. "This. This is all I want," he murmurs, and his lips brush the inside of your thigh with a featherlight touch.

“Mmph.” Your fingers curl into fists as you fight the urge to grab his hair and guide him to where you’ve been throbbing the most. Because despite your words earlier, the way your body responds to his touch, every tremble, every subtle sigh, doesn't lie.

You wanted this as badly as he did.

But Gojo is in control; his movements deliberate, slow, and savoring every inch of your exposed skin.

And he’s determined to show you exactly what you’ve been missing.

His cool breath fans against your skin, his lips soft, teasing, and leaving a trail of icy fire as they move closer and closer to your center, to the source of your intoxicating scent that hooked him like an addict from the moment you first entered the restaurant six years ago.

Your fingers clench the bar's edge, the cool wood a poor substitute for the touch you crave.

God, you wish he’d stop toying with you. Even when you give in and give him exactly what he wants, he still finds a way to make everything a game.

And just when you’re ready to huff and puff, you draw a sharp breath, the first flick of his tongue against your sensitive flesh almost making you fall to pieces. Your back arches as if struck by lightning, unable to help the moan that echoes in the deserted restaurant.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he delves deeper, circling his tongue around your puffy clit and puckering hole. And he’s true to his word, taking his time to explore and properly savor you with long, languid strokes that have you gripping the bar until your knuckles turn white.

Like a man possessed, his hands claim your thighs, devouring you with a maddening intensity and leaving you breathless. A sinful blend of pleasure and arousal as he navigates your most sensitive spots as if he’s done so a hundred times. Cooing into your folds, slurping your juices like a refreshment, making you completely surrender and his name slip from your lips in a desperate, needy whisper.

He smiles against your bud he sucks like a popsicle, your brows furrowing and body arching as he expertly brings you to the brink of desperate release. “Patience, sweetheart.” Gojo looks up at you, eyes gleaming with mischief as his tongue swipes at the taste of you on his lips. “Good things come to those who wait.”

But waiting is the last thing on your mind as you stare at him, your body aching for more before his lips hover just above your throbbing core. You’re holding your breath without realizing it, every nerve in your body attuned to his every move before he’s on you again, his fingers digging into your flesh and the slight sting only heightens the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Fuck baby,” he laps, a digit slipping into your tight walls, “I’ve missed this.” Adding a second that hooks right onto your G-spot and shoots stars into your eyes—making it worse by slurping your clit into his mouth in a nasty combination while pushing in and out.

The pressure inside you mounts and your eyes roll uncontrollably as you teeter on the edge. Your breaths come in sharp, ragged gasps as your body winds up so tightly it feels like you might shatter as you chase the sensation, hips bucking into Gojo’s face.

His hands clamp down on your thighs. “Stay still,” he commands, his low growl vibrating through you. But his words only fan the flames of your desperation, whimpers escaping you before he’s back at it, his tongue dancing over your clit with fiery precision.

You’re about to beg, to plead for release, hands scrambling to grasp him when you know you can’t when he slightly pulls back.

His gaze locks onto yours. “Now,” he says, “Now you can touch me.” And for a moment, you’re not sure you’ve heard him correctly.

But then you feel it—the change like a switch has been flipped—a newfound solidity where there has been none before that your body instinctively responds to.

You reach out, tentative at first, and find yourself shocked when your fingers graze the top of his head. His hair is unexpectedly soft; threading your fingers through the silky strands and gripping them lightly as your legs wrap around his shoulders to pull him closer to chase ecstasy.

Years have gone by, lovers have come and go, but nobody, nobody has been able to slurp, suck, or devour you anywhere near as close as Gojo. He eats you with a passion, with a determination to make you fall apart and come undone like the pleasure is more his than yours. If you could say there was ever a true eater who ever walked this earth, the first person you think of is him. And if you were around in the 1800s, you probably would have tried to trap him and ride his face into the sunset too.

You pull him flush into your cunt and grind your clit against his tongue without remorse. And it’s that low, guttural hum, his nose nuzzling deep against your folds like a madman and fingers harshly curling right against that perfect, gummy spot in you that finally sends you toppling right over. With a final, drawn-out moan, you shatter beneath his touch and the world explodes into a kaleidoscope of color and light.

Your legs tighten around him, holding him in place as you ride out the storm of pleasure, grasping his platinum locks with both hands and drenching his face with your sweet release as you cum harder than you have in 6 years.

Your mouth falls open in shock, embarrassment flushing your body from both squirting for the first time and expecting Gojo to release you in disgust, but his only response is a low hum of approval, and his hands slide up your body to pin your writhing hips down and drink as he pleases. Not missing a single drop.

Your body pulses with aftershocks on his tongue, each wave weaker than the last but he doesn’t stop. And when your eyes cross from the overstimulation, you beg and blubber until you can’t anymore and finally collapse on the bar, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat as you come down from the high.

Full and satisfied, Gojo slowly pulls away, a smug slip playing on his lips as he licks them. Gazing up at you, his eyes—bluer than ever—roam over your flushed form. “Delicious as ever,” and his praise is almost as sweet as the sight of you. “Now,” he says, rising to his feet, “About those vampires…”

You take a second. “Right…,” and huff, “the vampires.” You’re so spent you almost forgot what you came here for, your core feeling tight and sore as you attempt to sit up. Little groans slip out before Gojo catches you off-guard, smashing his lips against yours in the first kiss you two have ever had—letting you taste yourself on his cool tongue and making your head swim. You could lose yourself it in, seeming to go on forever as his possessive hands roam all over your body.

You moan into his mouth. “Go-Satoru.” Trying to fight the heady feeling, but you should’ve known better. An indulgent man like Gojo would never stop at just one taste.

He can feel you slowly cracking, and when he finally breaks the kiss, your lips are left swollen and tingling before he steals your breath again when he begins rutting against you.

“I want to fuck you down on my cock so bad.” His face is buried in the crook of your neck, breaths coming in short, ragged pants—sick off of the scent of your hair. “Would that be so bad?”

“Satoru,” you breathe out, a plea, a warning? You’re not sure which. “We had a deal, Satoru,” you remind him, struggling to hold onto any semblance of control. The sensation of his length rubbing against your sensitive and still-soaking core is almost too much and a solid reminder how full you were that night, and how full you could be again.

For a moment, it feels like he won't stop—and maybe you don’t want him to. But your resolve, silent yet firm, cuts through Gojo’s haze of desire, even if your body isn’t strong enough to resist and push him away yourself. And with a soft, almost reluctant sigh, Gojo huffs, and swears to himself as he's the one to pull away.

You swipe your bottom lip, for a second missing his on yours, and it takes a moment for you to clear your head, your hands unsteady as they fumble to straighten your clothes and fix yourself up as you slide off the bar. It's only after several deep breaths that your pulse begins to steady, and you can meet his eyes and that same infuriating smirk as he crosses his arms.

“Tsh, you’re no fun,” he teases, but there’s a note of respect in his voice.

Ignoring his comment, you square your shoulders. “I need to know how to find them, Gojo.”

His hand flies to his chest. “Ouch.” You roll your eyes. “Alright, alright,” he relents, running a hand through his hair. “A deal’s a deal.” He casually leans back against the bar, his tone turning back to business. “You want to find the vampires? The best way is to start with the hunters.”

You frown in confusion. “Hunters? …Vampire hunters?”

He nods, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You find the hunters, you find the vampires.” His voice is calm, but the words hit you like a train.

Oh, this is real.

Very, very real.

And your blood runs cold at the weight of your situation, of what you’re getting into.

Your friend wasn’t just caught up in some strange myth or superstition.

You’re not just playing detective anymore.

It was one thing to try to be brave and find out what happened, but it was another to step into the world of those who hunted them, those who lived every moment of their existence on the edge of life and death—purposely seeking out something so dangerous that they have to be exterminated.

“What? You scared now?” His head tilts, noticing your hesitation. “It’s simple,” he laughs, “You get in with them, you’re as good as gold.” And though his words offer the solution you’ve been searching for, they also bring a chilling new reality. And you have to decide if you’re really ready cross a line you can never uncross.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “And how do I find them?”

Gojo grins. “You don’t find them, sweetheart.” He pushes off the bar. “They find you.” He takes a few slow steps towards you. “Especially someone like you. They’ll practically smell the desperation.”

Your eyes narrow at his comment. Desperation? You’ve been called worse.

Nevertheless, your heart hammers in your chest, each beat trying to signal your impending doom.

“So, what? I just wait around for them to find me?” Frustration creeps into your tone.

Gojo waves his hand. “No, no, no,” he laughs. “You need to be smarter than that.” And he becomes more serious. “Make yourself known in the right circles. Go to the places they frequent. Show them you’re not someone they can just ignore. Play the part.” And you’re quick to pull out your phone and jot down the few places he rattles off.

As you type, a heaviness creeps in—a strange air shifting between you and Gojo. He watches you carefully, noticing how tired you look, the subtle sag of your shoulders, how your sigh carries the weight of exhaustion. This whole ordeal has felt like one long rollercoaster, but this is just the beginning of your even more difficult journey. And even though he knows what you’re in for, he can’t help but admire your determination.

"You know...I meant what I said before."

You don't look up, finishing up your notes. "About what?"

"About making you…" he hesitates, but doesn't finish.

But something feels off, and when you glance up from your phone, you catch Gojo’s eyes.

There’s no more teasing. No more smirking. He’s watching you with something else, something that feels heavy yet unreadable. And it clicks weird when a vibe passes through the both of you, simultaneously realizing that the time to part ways has once again come.

And you’re just as lost now as you were then about how to say goodbye.

There’s a strange, bittersweet feeling in the pit of your stomach as you watch him casually stroll back to the table where this all started.

“Don’t.” He plops down, sensing what you’re about to say. “I’ve never been good at those.” And though it flashes through your mind that he’s been bitter for six years because you never did the first time, you respect his wish and don’t say it this time either, only pursing your lips and offering a slight nod.

As you turn to leave, Gojo calls after you, softer now, almost…concerned.

“Be careful.”

And it’s enough to make you stop and glance back at him, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in his tone. He pushes his glasses up with a small smile, a little sparking reflecting off the lenses.

“But I don’t have to tell you that.”

And just like that, the moment hangs between you—unspoken thoughts and unfinished sentences floating heavy in the space.

You softly laugh, glancing down at your hands to fiddle with your fingers, trying to swallow the thanks welling up in your throat. The last thing you want is to make this moment any more awkward than it already is—as if this entire night hasn’t been batshit crazy.

Gojo may have made your life a living hell during one of the most pivotal times of your youth, but he’s also one of the most unforgettable things that’s ever happened to you. And it’s in this moment that you finally decide that maybe…that wasn’t so bad.

…Fuck it.

You decide to say something anyway.

But when you turn back to look at him, he’s gone. His scent, his aura, vanished, like he was never there at all. Only leaving the restaurant which sits still and lifeless. Chilling…because it’s never felt so…warm.

“...Thank you,” you whisper to the empty space he left behind, the words feeling almost weightless as you slowly exit the space for what may actually be the last time. It feels strangely freeing, the weight of the night finally easing as you take one last look before the doors close behind you with a quiet click.

Stepping outside into the warm New Orleans air feels so different now like you’ve left something behind in that old restaurant.

Maybe it’s Satoru.

Maybe it’s a part of yourself that knows things will never quite be the same after this.

It feels like you’ve just spent eternity trapped behind those vintage green doors, and now the world outside looks both familiar and frightening, but the night air hits you like a fresh start.

You're really going to do this. You're going to find the hunters, and through them, the vampires. And then... well, you’ll deal with that when the time comes.

After all, you've already faced a devil, and you're still standing.

What's a few vampires compared to that?

angel's note: bwahahaha, why do i even bother trying to condense things? ghost gojo was not supposed to have his own part, let alone (blank)K WORDS, he enjoyed reader waaaaay more than intended but obviously, i am not in control of my own stories. but yoooo, first and foremost, the BIGGEST of fucking s/o to @blkkizzat for helping me bring this story to fruition. i told her that i wanted to do a sugucho vampire fic and she said "bitch, where's ghost gojo??" so you have her to thank for this absolutely delectable first part

no worries tho, it's nothing but vampires and blood-sucking 🩸 from here on out, so drop ya name below if you want to be added to the tag list|sidenote: this post lining up with the full moon was not on purpose 😶 graphic credits: fangs banner (anitalenia)|glitter blood divider (violentbudd)|halloween MDNI divider (meeeee :3)|animated red divider (cafekitsune)

art credits: Sugu: 1 (hidouuc) 2 (blobfishswims) 3 (rice5x)|Cho: 1 (yappdoll) 2 (n/a) 3 (koshinomli) 4 (zeilorene)| Toru: 1 (_3aem) 2 (jjk_myaa) 3 (nala_bert) 4 (yurriima)

#bluuharem #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #halloween gojo #ghost gojo #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader

251 notes · View notes

mjolnir-brick · 2 months ago

Text

SVT as Demigods

1. Scoups

• Obv Zeus son poor bby - plot twist he's a descendent of Jupiter but dumbfuck Zeus either forgot or doesn't know so he snag Cheol mom and baradaboom is this self incest fic??? Who knows

• Selfless, actually a cinnamon roll, but still intimidating and strong asf

• Jason vibe but more idiocy bc they're SVT

• Able to command the room but still scared of soonyoung s teaching(?) he once said that he'd rather jin the vocal team bc the performance team seems too disciplined

• Just like how Jason is low-key scared of Percy

• Jaw

2. Jeonghan

• Aphrodite son bc beauty(1) and he's sly af have u seen gose - maybe roman so venus instead

• Not as much as a sweetheart like piper bc have u seen gose

• He literally looks good no matter what clothes or hairstyle u throw at him

• Also he can talk u into going into jail effortlessly if that's not charmspeak idk what it is

• Prob likes to judge ppl s relationship but hates it when someone does it to him

• Unlike piper jeonghan has more confidence he knows he's pretty and he's not afraid to use it as a privilege

3. Joshua

• I'd say Demeter - maybe the roman side

• Petty bish we all know

• Combine him w jeonghan and dude will conquer the world w/o moving an inch

• Sunday morning screams Demeter idc

• Honestly idrk what else is similar but anyways

4. Hoshi

• I'd say Poseidon - maybe Greek

• Chill dude but also very energetic at times

• Big three bc he three leaders too

• Why not hades? Bc I think he's too cheerful for that

• But tbh imagine he's son of hades then raising a bunch of undead armies and commands them to dance Macarena and aju nice💀

• It's fine bc he can ask the fishes to do it instead

• Can be scary at times

• Yeogi ocean views 🌊🌊 ☀️

5. Jun

• Maybe Dionysus - def bc there's no way roman camp can handle him

• Bc both are smartass but too lazy or unfocused to do it

• Yk he's weird not even Dionysus god of insanity could understand him

• Tries to hug Dionysus one(1) time only to be soaked in wine instead

• Somehow managed to befriend Hermes and Hephaestus

6. Wonwoo

• Maybe Athena - maybe on the roman side

• He's intelligent he diligent he likes to read

• Has many strategies too

• One of the brains in gose

• Doesn't really see Athena as his parents but as his discussion collage instead

• Sometimes cracks up w no reason

• Blind w o his glasses

7. Woozi

• Obv pluto duh - not mars bc I think roman camp is more suitable for him

• Is also a descendent of Apollo that's why his music side is very strong

• Big three three leaders

• Is also secretly a sweetheart like his father but is very bad at showing them

• Really pale skin that either scares or amazes ppl

• Imagine him raising the undead to sing back vocal for him lmao

• Probably finds the quiet in hades palace relaxing

• Def loves Cerberus

• Gets along well with Persephone somehow and maybe have a beef w Demeter instead

8. DK

• God of music babyyy - Greek side bc Greek is more carefree

• He slays and he knows it

• Have u heard his vocal range

• Doesn't like fighting and prefers healing altho he can just scream and the enemies will stumble instantly if not dead

• Prob calls Apollo to rant once a week and Apollo loves it

• A literal sunshine. Give him smth he likes and he'll light up instantly also literally

• Doesn't like underworld but adores Cerberus

• Put him beside the son of Poseidon and son of Nike he'll be unstoppable

9. Mingyu

• Hestia son

• Personally has a beef w Hecate son bc he's always getting pranked

• Bc he likes to take care of PPL

• He cooks he cleans he listen he malewife harder than ur head

• Don't anger him tho or u'll be thrown out of any safe space u have

• Petty also so if his friends tease him he'll prob make their pillow warm all the time

• No one expects him to be son of hestia bc of his bulky body but once they know him they'll be like awwwww

• Goes twice a month to underworld just to spend time w Cerberus

• If jihoon let's him he'll prob go there twice a week

• Always put up the campfire bc he likes to talk w his mom

• SMH managed to befriend almost everyone in the camp and their respective parents both god and human

10. Minghao

• Hecate son

• He be magic swoosh swoosh

• Is playful but covers it w stoic face

• Likes to prank his friends by playing w the mist

• Idk what else

11. Seungkwan

• Son of Nike

• We all know he's petty af and likes to win

• Very competitive and hates losing

• Very energetic and weird just like Nike

• Wears Nike everyday everywhere and is powerful in it

• Prob has a hawk as a pet

• Speaks to his Nike shoes at times

• Is also competitive w his mom

12. Vernon

• Hypnos s son

• Have u seen ttt gose episodes bc boy sleeps all the time

• That one time nana tour editor has to put Vernon is alive subtitle

• Sleeps through chaos is his specialty

• Either no energy or seagull noises

13. Dino

• Ares son - not mars bc ares is more unhinged and so are dino

• Again dude is very competitive

• Likes to ignite wars

• Often seen in the crime scene either participating or laughing or filming or all of the above

• Has a personal war w himself (read: Pi cheolin)

• Knows his place tho so sometimes stops fights

• Fights w ares regularly

#greek mythology #percy jackson #incorrect seventeen quotes #seventeen #scoups #woozi #hoshi #jeonghan #jisoo #wonwoo #jun #mingyu #dk #dokyeom #the8 #seungkwan #vernon #dino #honestly theyre a mess

11 notes · View notes

deranged-chinchilla · 1 year ago

Text

| Blood and Tears

I need her on another level, and i am sorry in advanced if this is terrible, i’m sick asf rn.

Coughing, you woke up from your forced unconsciousness, sitting up with the help of your shaky hands. Blood had formed a small puddle beneath your head and you gently patted the area under your nose to pull away and see that was the source.

“I won’t let you hurt them.” Vanessa’s soft but strong voice drove you to look up, seeing the blonde backing away from her scarily tall father, who was slowly approaching her with a knife in hand.

One that had already been embedded in you once, as the memory of the sudden piercing and sharp pain came back to you and you looked down to see another crimson puddle forming under your lower abdomen.

Despite your, probably fatal wound, you forced yourself to your feet as William grasped Vanessa by the throat, pinning her against the claw machine behind her as he growled low threats that you couldn’t hear.

But you didn’t care.

You ran at him, jumping onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck, catching him off guard and making him yell as he swung aimlessly at you like you were a pest.

However, it worked when he grabbed you by the hair and threw you over his shoulder making you land on your back, knocking the breath out of your already weak lungs.

When he saw you were the one he’d overpowered, an evil grin made it’s way to his face making your heart stop and your skin go pale with goosebumps.

Meanwhile, Vanessa caught her breath and once she had, she raised her gun aiming for his head.

“I always knew you had a thing for my daughter. I just never knew you had the lady-balls to make a move.” William chuckled darkly as you attempted to pull yourself back but his foot came down on your chest, holding you in place as you let out a strained groan.

Having been one of the nighttime security guards, you had regular run ins with Vanessa, the police officer that visited occasionally to help out.

But one night the soft tension between the two of you became too much.

The longing glances, the unnecessary but very much appreciated touches, and the deep conversations, you couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore despite your best judgement.

Alongside that soft and passionate side to her, she seem shrouded in mystery the other half of the time. Her past was a mystery to you.

One that she kept very tightly guarded.

So one night after your guys’ patrol around the pizzeria, you guys were chilling in the office.

You were filling out some paperwork for Vanessa, sparing an occasional glance or two at her and her beautifully concentrated face.

Something about her made your insides crawl.

The way her perfect eyebrows creased in frustration, how her soft lips pursed in thought. You couldn’t get enough, your eyes didn’t want to pull away every time you forced them to.

“You seem tense.” You said curiously as you continued scribbling down notes of what you saw as Vanessa looked at you (not that she wasn’t glancing at you as well whenever you looked away).

“How do you mean?” She asks, her voice soft as her piercing gaze sunk into you, shooting sparks down between your legs making you cross one over the other as you propped your head up with your arm against the desk.

“You just seem more tense than usual. Is there anything I can do?” You asked, batting your curious eyelids at her making her swallow but not look away from your gaze.

“You do enough, darling, don’t worry about it.” She sighed, looking away as a million thoughts raced through her blonde head that told her the exact opposite.

Seeing as she didn’t budge, you set down your pen and got up, slowly sauntering over to her before your hands landed on her shoulders making her stiffen.

Then when your thumbs began caressing the stress from her back, she sighed against your hold and relaxed at the gesture.

Feeling the way her body gave way to your hands made you hum, your fingers moving slow as you gave her a much needed massage.

“God, that feels good…” Vanessa hummed softly, biting her bottom lip as your head fogged with dirty little thoughts as you smiled.

“I could make you feel better…” You whispered softly, but Vanessa didn’t miss a syllable, her eyes widening and glancing back at you through her peripheral.

“How’s that, angel?” She hummed sending another wave to your already drenched lips, making you squeeze your thighs together as you kept rubbing her shoulders.

You shrugged innocently, looking off as you thought of a few things you’ve wanted to do to her for a while.

“Like eat you out until you can only think to moan my name…” You suddenly bent forward to whisper in her ear before she held your face and turned to you.

“Than get to it, pretty.” She whispered back, the order making your slick soak through your panties.

“Yes, ma’am.” You kept your voice low to keep the whimper in the back of your throat at bay as you obeyed and walked over to squat in front of her in the chair.

Her legs in a man spread making you swallow as she looked down at you with a mischievous smirk.

“Don’t be shy, I’ll be gentle…” She lied through her damn teeth as you shuddered and undid her belt before noticing the bulge in her pants.

With wide eyes, you pulled down the waistband only for a bright pink silicone cock to burst out, startling you.

“What’s wrong?” She grinned as you swallowed and grabbed hold of her pants and pulled them down fully so you could reveal her own drenched heat.

You whimpered as your warm breath wafted across her lips, soon licking a stripe up her pussy making her back arch as she hummed again, sending need through your body.

Hearing her noises, you looked up at her, holding the dildo to the side to meet her lidded gaze as your tongue made quick circles around her already swollen clit.

“Such a good baby, sucking my clit like that…” She smiled, grabbing the back of your head to pull your closer while her thighs squeezed around your head.

You moaned into her pussy making her shudder with pleasure as your tongue dove in and out of her, circling around her clit when it wasn’t fucking her.

It didn’t take long before the pent up woman was grinding her hips against your face, your nose nudging her clit every now and then while your tongue played and curled inside her.

“Fuck, I’m gonna— Gah~! I’m gonna lose it.” She panted as you kept eye contact with her dark eyes and continued eating her out like your life depended on it.

It didn’t take long for her to cum, with the friction from your nose and tongue driving her insane as she drawled out an angelic moan and toppled over the edge around your tongue, gushing into your mouth.

You savored every sweet drop, licking your lips after working her through it and sitting up again.

“How was that?” You asked, your voice soft and your eyes begging for her approval but all you got was another smile.

“Bend over on the desk, now.” She ordered once more making your face light up red.

“You—You don’t have to return the favor, I don’t mind doing that for—“

“What did I say, angel?” She hummed, kissing your lips hard, savoring the taste of herself on your tongue and reimagining your eyes on hers as you worked her through her breathtaking orgasm.

You whimpered in fearful anticipation as you did as you were told and bent over the table. She could immediately see the darker color of your pants between your trembling thighs.

She yanked down your work pants and underwear making you moan as your skin met the cold night air. But it helped when she patted the meat of your ass with her hand, firmly. Leaving a warm red mark.

“Ah~!” You whimpered, biting your lip as you get her line her dildo up with your slick entrance that was entirely revealed to her now.

“M’gonna fuck you so good, baby…” She groaned as she slipped the already glistening tip past your lips making your back arch as a pleasured moan left your mouth.

You’re sharply brought back to life when the familiar blade is embedded in you once again, now in your side as you gasped and grabbed onto William’s hand as he looked down at your state sadistically.

“You should’ve stayed away from her. Far away.” He growled before yanking his weapon out of you making your scream in anguish as a deafening shot rang and William was down on his knee.

The shot and sudden rush of blood to the inside of his suit triggered the spring lock mechanisms making him shout a similar scream to yours as his leg was invisibly decimated by the piercing metal.

Vanessa ran to your aid as the animatronics dealt with her murderous father, dragging him away as his very creation he used to hide his true motives turned him into a pincushion.

“Stay with me angel, please don’t leave me. You’re so strong. You can push past this.” She whispered, kissing your hand as you whimpered.

“I love you, Vann.” You forced a whisper past your pale lips as you slowly and painfully drifted from consciousness.

“No no no, please don’t do this… I love you, angel… I can’t live without you…” Vanessa whimpered as she watched your eyes fall shut helplessly.

Then your world went black.

It felt like ten years later when you woke up with a gasp in the hospital, looking up at the blinding florescent lights. Then looking around the room cautiously, you noted the TV mounted to the wall, broadcasting a new station you hadn’t heard of before.

And you couldn’t believe who’s face was up there, labeled as a kidnapping murderer.

Your Vanessa.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf vanessa #vanessa shelly #wlw love #Spotify

1 note · View note

wornoutmouse · 3 years ago

Text

Fun fact: demon slayer starts in 1912 and ends in 1927(or at least that's when the Tashio era ends). Using that math Tanjiro (as long as he kept his health good) would very well be alive today at the ripe age of like 78 if my math is correct since he started as 13 in the series. (My math probably wrong asf)

Power imbalance, power bottom reader, knife play, blood but not blood play...

He hated you.

Your very being irked him more than anything he'd ever experienced in all his centuries of living. You were clumsy, boisterous, and played that arrogant music all throughout your home while walking around half naked. Well in Muzan's opinion you were half naked, he couldn't even begin to describe his disbelief at the trend of exposing skin.

It didn't help that you had that insignificant filth running through your veins. At first he was unsure, after all this was a completely different country than Japan, not to mention your darker skin and coiled hair. But no, he could smell and recognise the Kamado blood running through your veins just as strongly as it had run through all your ancestors.

Completely undiluted.

At the very beginning when you first moved in, you came to his home. Knocking aggressively on his front door already getting off to the wrong start. When he opened it, you slipped past him and walked into his living room barely even saying hello as you put poorly decorated sugar cookies on his obsidian coffee table. "This is a nice place you got here Mj."

Muzan's eyes twitched, that joke had long since gotten old since he moved to America.

Now that you were closer he could definitely smell, the century old stench of rivaling bloodlust simmered just below your onyx skin. At any moment he expected you to attack him in some way or form. "Anyways I'm here to say hello neighbor, my name is Y/n and I'm your new best friend!"

Your happy attitude also agitated him to no end. Even though the knowledge of demons had dwindled down to only a few select families, even basic humans were wary of him as their baser instincts made them aware of his dangerous origins. This fact had long since forced Muzan to only prey on the elderly to survive. You had stayed a bit longer babbling about some nonsense that Muzan never acknowledged as he watched you from a good distance.

"You know you really got to add more to your wardrobe than 1963 suits." You walked from the back of his home, an area that he didn't even notice you wandered to. Finally getting bored, you open his door bidding your farewells.

Just before leaving you stop and with a cheeky grin say, "If you ever need anything just come on over. We Kamado's are known for our kindness."

Since then he'd been on edge around you. The point of relocating was for him to keep a low profile but now it seems he'd have to come face to face with an old nemesis reborn.

Muzan snapped out of his thoughts with a flinch as he pierced his hand with his nail. He watches the dark blood well up from the wound and drip down his wrist. In the end this world had long since lost its hostility dwindling the average human incapable of basic combat. Giving you were no doubt a great descendant, Muzan failed to see you as a true threat.

But one can never be too sure

🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢

You heard a knock on your door, soft and hesitant. "I don't think I'm expecting company." You checked your watch and peered out of a nearby window. It was at least 8 at night, you were braless wearing sweats with a red T-Shirt and on your way to bed. In the back of your mind you visualize your two grand-uncles Inosuke and Zenitsu coming over to make you spectate their fights. For two old dudes they still had enough strength in them to do hip breaking nonsense.

You open the door shocked to see your next door neighbor standing before you. For once he wasn't wearing a suit that cost more than your house. His attire was still expensively dressed but in a more casual sense, that being a black dress shirt and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up displaying his pale skin. "Can I come in?" A dazzling smile you had never seen before practically blinds you as he walks past you into your home.

When Muzan walks in his eyes immediately dart to the clear as day Nichirin Blade sword displayed recklessly on your living room wall above your couch. "You like it?" A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, "Got it from my grandpa, he says it's really special but I feel like he's exaggerating. You know how old people are." Muzan shakes out of his stupor. "I don't quite understand what you mean by that, however I do know that it's much more wise to listen to your elders than ignoring…..It could save your life."

Muzan replicates you and puts a hand on your shoulder gently squeezing. This was it, he'd go in for the kill and it would be over, the amount of blood he'd pump into you would be enough to watch you meet a satisfying end of combustion completely untraceable if the police were to get involved. How he wishes he'd be there when your poor grandfather walks along your remains splattered on every surface in your living room. Unable to do a thing as he's finally in his last stretch of life.

The beauty.

Muzan's finger only twitches in the slightest before pain sparks from his own neck. "The thought of you coming into my own home unprovoked and at night no less, was the most obvious sign one could ask more." You had his hand gripped so tight your veins popped while your other hand held a small pocket knife that burned brighter than any Nichirin sword he'd ever encountered. He didn't understand, he was quick enough to kill even the best of the ancient Hiroshima. So how did a little foreign girl like you get the upper hand?

It was embarrassing and almost laughable if any of his pillars were alive to tell the tale.

You press the blade harder before bringing your other hand to caress Muzan's cheek, "Did you think I'd be just an ignorant descendant of an infamous hero?" You clicked your teeth disappointingly. "How naive, you've really become lazy after all these millennia huh?" You walk forward, pushing Muzan back with seductive strength. He allows you to push him into your couch, I say allow because at any time he could have stopped you.

Muzan is most definitely not holding me at gunpoint right now.

The knife never wavers even as you climb into Muzan's lap, pressing it even closer against his jugular. "You do know getting beheaded will not kill me, and I doubt this petty little kitchen knife will get the job done in the first place." Your lips draw into a smirk and you press the knife closer as you trail it down his chest, "That may be true but it's gonna take one hell of a time for you to grow back." Your hand jerks down, popping his shirt buttons open.

Muzan watches with interest, your eyes light up as more skin becomes exposed. The tones of your dark skin contrast strikingly as you caress his pectoral with the tips of your fingers. "For a 1,000 year old grandpa you look decent." Still threatening his life with your blade, you kiss him. It's deep and carnal. Your lustful desires being made known as you grind in his lap. The flesh of your ass snuggly hotdogs the forming outline of his cock. "I've always wanted to be with a demon. You've had to of become a real freak after living this long!"

When you pull away Muzan's thin lips are pink and a bit swollen. He is out of breath despite needing none, "You have a lot of nerve for a mere human." With your free hand you loosen the belt of his slacks, only standing to pull them off, pleased when Muzan voluntarily raises his hips to aid you.

Don't get him wrong, he was still planning on killing you and ending your wretched bloodline once and for all, he just needed his mind to clear itself. Your scent, your confidence, strung him along like a puppet. His hands grip onto your ass cheeks like a lifeline. Molding them between his fingers, even giving them a shake through your sweats. His nails elongate and puncture the thick fabric as if it was nothing more than a spider web.

Your sweats are tugged off completely leaving your lower half nude. Muzan moves his hands to hold your ass again but your blade politely makes itself known. You are out of breath and clearly flustered. "Watch yourself, demon, I'm the one calling the shots, don't forget that." Muzan bites his tongue with sharp glare. He raises his hands in surrender, "Of course."

Muzan can feel your wetness against his leg and it's driving him insane. "Hey…" red eyes refocus on yours, "You ain't got any diseases do you? And you can't get me pregnant right?" Muzan smirks hands enclosing around your ass despite your protest. "I can, however it will cost a lot more than doing it once." The odds didn't seem in your favor but you were in no position to stand down and grab a condom and Muzan knew it.

You curve the blade towards his chin, "If you are lying and give me some ancient unknown disease or I find out you have superman sperm, I will kill you." Muzan links his lips, "Wasn't that the plan from the beginning or have you had a moment of level headedness?" Your wrist is quick and precise, cutting a thin slash along his jawline., not enough to scar and it barely even bled, but the threat was clear.

You grab Muzan's dick and use your thumb to attack the underside with fast strokes. Said man doesn't react outwardly, the only sign being his eyelids lowering by a fraction. "Were you always this well endowed or did you adjust this part too?" Muzan was not amused by your insinuation. Deciding to once again display the true power imbalance this situation had, he loops his arms underneath your large thighs and lifts you just enough to thrust his cock against your hole.

From there he let's go, making you plop down on his length, making you yelp and allowing him to lean back with a relaxed sigh. You were so warm and tight. Now even though I explained what had happened with great detail, keep in mind that in reality it all happened within a fraction of a second.

Your large and in charge persona was cracking. You gripped Muzan's sides tightly as your pussy spasmed around his girth. "F-Fuck it's too….." you trail off not wanting to give Muzan the credit he was truly due.

It takes a few moments for you to get your bearings all the while Muzan and his dangerous jaw swayed in the crevice of your neck. A viper playing with its prey. The blade is back against his neck once again making his cock twitch. If he were human this would be a dangerous feat. Your grip never slacked nor lessened against his neck, slicing into a growing wound that dropped dark blood down his chest and to his abdomen.

His dick stretched your pussy and made it weap on each downstroke. Muzan's hands grip onto the cheeks of your ass with gritted teeth. Your insides gripped him ever so slightly. Sucking him back in as if he belonged there. He felt used and it felt good. His black ringlets stuck to his face from sweat and his red eyes grew in intensity.

He couldn't see much of your body, hell he could barely even touch. In the back of his mind humorous thoughts such as how he knew Tanjiro would lose his sanity if he knew his granddaughter was being bedded by the man he despised. But the more you bounced, the more you squeezed, the deeper you cut into his neck proved that you were truly the one in charge.

"Oh God you're so deep!" Your deep almond eyes shut themselves with pleasure. Muzan could feel your legs shaking with exertion at the same rhythm your pussy twitched. His balls felt tight after having no action in over a dozen years. "F-Faster." He has no care for your blade, only wanting to cum and feel the sweet ecstasy he knew your creamed pussy would provide. "Come on human, go faster." Muzan locks lips with you, gaze hardened and intent on proving some sort of point.

Tossing the knife you wrap your arms around his neck pulling his head closer. Red eyes target brown ones as his hands take a stronger grip on your ass. He uses his strength to bounce you. The sound of his balls slapping against the curve of your ass is just as disgusting as it is sexy. Your nipples rub against his through your tank-top making you both moan. The feeling blood stains your shirt making you shiver from the cool wetness

The couch you rest on bangs against the wall behind you the faster you both go. Muzan's feet are planted firmly in the ground, his fangs further elongated. He looks feral and it is in this moment where you get a glimpse of the horror many people felt when he took their lives. "Focus little Kamado, you wouldn't want to disappoint me now would you?"

Muzan's hips meet yours, spreading the tempo. Your juices coat his lap before finally you tense up completely into a cramp inducing stance as Muzan impaled you on his cock one last time. "Ahh.." Muzan empties himself within you with a relieved sigh.

Maybe the Kamado bloodline could go on.

#blackreader #black y/n #demon slayer smut #muzan x reader #anime smut #muzan smut #muzan x black reader #demon slayer x black reader

684 notes · View notes

marveloussupernerd · 4 years ago

Text

Drunk Confessions - IwaOi

Warnings: swearing, drinking, this is cute asf

Summary: Oikawa can’t have Iwaizumi, so he gets drunk off his ass to try and forget. The only problem is, Iwa comes to take care of him in his drunk state. Thank goodness Iwa likes him too

Oikawa Tooru was LONELY.

Having an insufferable crush on your best friend for the past five years made it hard to not feel lonely.

His heart felt so full when he was with Iwa, but at the same time so empty.

If he didn’t have a crush on his best friend, wow how things would be different. He had plenty of fangirls (and some fanboys even) who wanted to date him. He wouldn’t sit alone on a Friday night and scroll through his best friend’s snapchat stories and feel his heart break every time he hung out with people and Oikawa wasn’t invited.

Yeah, this sucked.

Well, his parents were away for the weekend, so what else could he do to fill the empty hole in his heart? He’d play a game: how many shots does it take until I forget his name?

He couldn’t even be positive Iwa was attracted to boys. He had never told him explicitly. Shot.

He knew everything about Oikawa, even the small things that would make him cringe. He knew how to cheer him up. Was that just a friend thing? Who would he even ask? Shot.

“Yamaguchi!” He cheered over the phone, facetiming the first year.

“I, how did you get my number?” The boy asked awkwardly.

“You and the glasses kid are childhood friends, right?”

The boy smiled. “We’re boyfriends now actually!”

“Fuck my life.” He hung up. Shot.

The radio was playing Ed Sheeran. Dammit. Although he’d never admit it, Iwa listened to Ed Sheeran a lot, usually while he studied as background music. Perfect by Ed Sheeran. That would be their song.

Shot.

Everything was Iwaizumi Hajime. The blanket he always stole when he came over. The blue cup he used and dubbed his own. The dent in the wall from the one time he tripped and fell down the stairs. The spiderweb cracks in the back window from when he threw a baseball a little too hard when they were kids—his parents never got to fixing it. Dammit.

Shot after shot for everything that reminded him of Iwa. But it only made it worse. He didn’t fill up the spot in his mind that Iwa occupied with the alcohol, but instead filled up his mind until Iwa occupied it all.

His fingers were tapping on his crush’s contact before he even comprehended what he was doing.

“Oi, Oikawa, what is it? It’s almost midnight.” It was dark wherever Iwa was, his face hardly lit up by the screen.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa slurred excitedly. “Just wanted to seee what was up!”

There was silence for a brief moment.

“Did you drink?” His eyes were serious.

“Mhmmmm.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Your parents are out of town, aren’t they?”

“Mhmmmmmm. Don’t worry about me Iwa, I’ll be okay! Just wanted to see your handsome face before bed,” he chuckled. The words brought a ping of pain to his heart, but he ignored it, pouring himself another drink with one hand.

“Hey! Cut it out. I’ll be over in a few. No more drinks til then, alright?”

“Okayyy. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“You know what? I’m staying on the phone with you til I get there,” Iwa decided. He held the phone in his hand and it shook slightly as he walked, his face being illuminated with streetlights every few seconds.

“Awwww so protective of me.”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled. Then a pause. “How much did you drink tonight?”

“Seven? Eight? I dunno.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking alone. It’s not healthy or safe,” he scolded Oikawa gently.

Oikawa frowned. “I know. But you seemed to be having fun on your story so I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Idiot. You’re never bothering me,” he said under his breath.

“Awww, Iwa Chan, you’re so sweet! You’re making me blush.” Oikawa moved haphazardously to the couch, collapsing onto it.

“You’re ridiculous. I’ll be there in just one minute, alright?”

“Okay. The door’s-“

Why was the line silent? Iwa clutched his phone tighter. Did he lose service? No, the picture was still there. Did this idiot really pass out? God. He should have been there for him. If anything happened to Oikawa he’d- well, he’d be pissed with himself. He ended the call and sprinted to his friend’s house.

He pushed the front door open urgently, shutting it behind him in one quick motion, and made his way to the living room. “Shittykawa!” He called, plopping on the couch next to the sleeping man.

“Oi,” he flicked Oikawa’s forehead, causing the boy to jump awake, startled. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Iwa!” Tooru exclaimed, pulling the man in tight for a hug, keeping him locked in his grip. “Missed youu.”

“Missed you too. But you can’t freak me out like that. I thought you died or something.”

“I knew you had a soft spot for me!” Oikawa exclaimed, poking his chest playfully.

“I always have,” Iwa smiled, shaking his head. “But I’m only telling you this because you won’t remember in the morning.”

He forced his way out of Oikawa’s grip and started cleaning up the spilled alcohol on the table. “Wanna tell me why you were drinking to make such a mess?”

“The guy I like doesn’t like me back,” Oikawa pouted.

Iwaizumi paused, then quickly picked up where he left off. “I didn’t realize you were gay.”

“Duhhh. I don’t just swoon over your muscles for nothing.”

“Sh-shut up,” Iwa stuttered, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks. “Sorry about the guy though. I thought everyone liked you.”

“I know. I’m as shocked as you are. Hey! You know the kid with the glasses from Karasano? He’s been friends with their pinch server since they were kids. They’re dating now. What bullshit.”

Iwaizumi had no clue who Oikawa was talking about but nodded. “Uh huh, bullshit.”

“It sucks to see someone living out the life you want to live,” Oikawa groaned, flopping dramatically on the couch.

“You like glasses guy?” Iwaizumi felt himself stiffen.

Oikawa started cackling. Not the response he was expecting. “No.”

“Pinch server? When did you even hang out with these Karasano guys to know them well enough to form a crush?” He shouldn’t have felt so offended by Oikawa liking someone, but Oikawa never told Iwaizumi his feelings. Girls would always swoon over him, but he didn’t seem to care. He never told Iwa about his crushes, and so hearing it now made him even more uncomfortable.

He had always hoped that Oikawa never talked about crushes because he liked him back.

“Hey, you’re not even listening to me!” Oikawa pouted. Iwaizumi turned his attention to him and smiled, putting his hands up defensively.

“I don’t know them well enough to form a crush.” Oikawa repeated himself.

“Okay? Who do you like then?” Was it probably bad to be working this information out of a drunk Oikawa? Yes. But he needed to know so he could move on.

“Iwa-Chan.” His voice was gravely serious.

“Yes?”

Oikawa shook his head. “No, like that’s who I like. You won’t tell him, right?”

“Are you stupid? I’m literally Iwa-Chan.” He almost cringed at calling himself by the nickname, but he knew it was the best way to get the information to Oikawa’s brain.

Oikawa looked sick very suddenly, his face paling. He stood up and stumbled to the bathroom, Iwaizumi following quickly behind him, getting there just in time to see the intoxicated man throwing up. He rubbed his back gently, trying to get his stomach to calm down. They sat like this for a few minutes until Oikawa felt okay enough to break the silence.

“Iwa,” he grumbled. “Please forget I said that. Literally pretend I said nothing. Please. I don’t want to lose you as my friend because something so stupid slipped out.” His eyes were teary as he looked up at his friend, face still pale as a sheet and sweaty.

“No, I-“

“Please!” He called out, tears falling now. “Please. Please try and forget. I can’t wake up tomorrow morning and have no memory of tonight and all of a sudden you’re gone and-“

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi said firmly, hands reaching to cup his face to make him look up at him. “You never were good at letting me get a word out.” He joked, a small smile on his face. He used his thumb to gently wipe away the tears that fall down Oikawa’s cheeks. “I love you too, Oikawa.”

“You don’t have to say that ‘cause you feel bad.”

Iwaizumi leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I’m not. I’m in love with you.”

Oikawa tackled him into a tight hug, almost knocking them both over. He then began to pepper kisses all over his crush’s face, while Iwa tried to pull him off. “Stop!” He laughed. “You just threw up. I don’t want kisses right now.”

“Booooo. You’re no fun.”

“I’ll kiss you tomorrow, ‘Kay?” Iwa said softly, brushing some of Oikawa’s hair out of his face. “We need to get you to bed.”

“Stairs plus me is not gonna work.” Oikawa said matter-of-factly

Iwaizumi grumbled. He was still as stubborn and annoying as ever when he was drunk. He stood up and knelt down, back to Oikawa. “Fine, get on, but only this once.”

“Awwww, is my Iwa Chan giving me a piggyback ride?”

“Better than you falling up the stairs.”

Oikawa leapt onto his back, causing Iwa to sway a little bit at first, but he quickly steadied himself and began slowly walking towards Oikawa’s bedroom.

“Wow, look at those muscles!” Oikawa swooned, poking around at Iwaizumi’s biceps. “What a man.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” Iwa chuckled, letting the man poke and prod up his body.

Finally he got to Oikawa’s bed, letting him go to collapse onto the piles of pillows and blankets. Oikawa squealed as he landed, letting out a few giggles.

“You’re too adorable,” Iwa commented, looking at the man in front of him fondly. He then also collapsed on the bed, joining Oikawa. They had shared a bed plenty of times before, but this time was different. They weren’t just best friends. Maybe they were boyfriends? Iwaizumi would ask in the morning. His heart was racing thinking about it.

Oikawa tore him out of his thoughts, readjusting and flipping face first onto Iwaizumi, head nestled in his neck.

“You comfy?” Iwaizumi teased.

“Asshole. Yes I am.”

“Okay. Good night Oikawa.” He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him closer.

“Your heart is racing. Is that because of me?”

“Shut up and go to bed before I knock you out myself.”

Oikawa’s brain felt like putty in the morning. What the hell had even gone on last night? Bad decisions, that was what. He kept his eyes shut tightly, not ready to wake up to the blinding sun quite yet, and reached his hand around to feel for water on the nightstand.

And then he accidentally smacked someone in the face.

“Asshole.” They grumbled. That was... definitely Iwa Chan’s voice. And... did he have his arms wrapped around Oikawa? What happened last night?

He forced his eyes open to figure out what position exactly he had put himself in, and was shocked to see himself buried into Iwaizumi’s chest, laying on top of him, with the man’s arms wrapped around him.

His heart told him to stay cuddled up in his embrace, but his brain told him WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING.

“You’re up,” Iwa grumbled sleepily. “Feeling okay?”

“What in the fuck did I miss?”

Iwaizumi chuckled. “You got really drunk last night.”

“Well, duh.”

“And uh...” Iwaizumi couldn’t meet Oikawa’s eyes as he spoke.

“Uh what?”

“You might have drunkenly confessed to me.”

“Oh, fuck.” Oikawa hid his face, unable to meet his friend’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Tooru. I’m in love with you too.”

Oikawa sat up quickly, shocked, straddling the man beneath him now. “You what!?” His hand rushed to his head to hold it, the quick motion causing his head to pound.

“I love you too.”

“For real?”

Iwaizumi sat up, face only inches away from Oikawa’s. His eyes softened, and he reached out to touch Oikawa’s cheek gently. “For real,” he whispered.

Oikawa’s eyes were trained on Iwaizumi’s lips. He was going to kiss him. He was going to kiss his best friend, his crush, the man who he loved and who loved him back.

“Oh, hell no.” Iwa held his face back, palm of his hand squishing against the boy’s cheek, refusing to let him get closer. “You threw up last night and never brushed your teeth.”

“Okay!” Oikawa stumbled out of bed, almost falling flat on his face as his head spun from getting up. “Mhm, going to go brush my teeth. Wait for me okay?”

“I’m waiting. Make sure you get your tongue too!”

“I love you Iwa Chan!” He called. Iwaizumi could hear the faucet running.

“I love you too.”

#haikyuu #iwaoi #iwaizumi hajime #Oikawa tooru

31 notes · View notes

jingabitch · 5 years ago

Text

Armed to the Fangs ch.5

Summary: You grew up in the Hunter’s Guild, understanding that it is your sacred duty as a hunter to protect humanity from the vampires that lurk in the dark, draining the life from anyone unlucky enough to be caught. While making the rounds one night, you encounter Taehyung, a fabled born vampire - not that you know that when he tries to entice you into a dark alley. Next thing you know, you’re kidnapped and taken to their home, where you realise that all of them somehow crave your blood and seem to know more about your past than you do. Finding out about where you came from might be the key to setting humanity free.

Pairing: eventual ot7 x reader; some jimin x reader and namjoon x reader here

Warnings: some description of violence, angst, pining, maybe eventual smut (haven’t decided) but not for a looooong time, slow burn (really the slowest of burns), injeolmi being adorable asf as always, joon loves his plants

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: this is coming a little earlier than I had planned but also I was tired of sitting on it, so here you go! Big thank you to my betas @re-sugance and @jminacious for reading this beforehand and making sure it was okay <3

Series index

You stayed cooped up in your room with only Injeolmi for company for the next few weeks. When it became clear that you were not going to leave your quarters to even look for food, the boys arranged to take turns bringing you meals, like they had when you were a captive. To you, though, there was no difference between then and now, except for how luxurious your surroundings were.

Injeolmi, of course, was ecstatic about this turn of events. He’d never gotten so much attention in his short life before, and having you around for constant cuddles and playtime was the best thing his furry little self could imagine.

When you woke up on this particular morning, you hadn’t expected anything to be different. You’d eaten the meals they provided – which were still delicious, and you figured at some point you might as well try to find the chef to compliment him – you were stuck here indefinitely eating the meals he’d prepared for you, after all. You texted back and forth with Jennie and some other hunters you were friends with for a while, since they were just getting in from their rounds, but then they went to sleep and you had nothing to do.

At around noon, you heard a knock on the door and figuring it was probably your lunch, you opened it.

What you found on the other side made you blink in surprise. The littlest vampire, Jimin, was standing in your doorway, but instead of a tray of food, he instead held a giant box that almost dwarfed his frame.

“Uhhh…” you hesitated, unsure of what to say or do.

“Hi!” he chirped cheerfully, giving you a massive grin. His eye smile was contagious, and you found yourself smiling back at him hesitantly. “I got your cat a scratch tower!” he continued, bouncing the box in his hold a little. “Can I come in and put it down?”

Unable to turn him away, you ended up just standing aside to let him into your apartment. He entered, put the box down in the middle of the living room, then stood up, his hands on his hips. You stood by the door, wondering if he was going to leave now, but when a moment passed and he still hadn’t moved, you sighed and shut it. “Would you like to help me set it up?” you offered half-heartedly. It wasn’t really a question, because you could tell that was exactly why he’d bought it, and he was clearly not leaving without doing that.

He grinned at you excitedly as he accepted though, and you rolled your eyes, although perhaps with a little less heat than one could have hoped. Injeolmi was your baby, after all. He really knew what he was doing, approaching you with a gift for your cat.

“All right, I’ll go get something to open the box with,” you told him, starting to turn away.

“No need,” he piped up. “I brought a penknife,” he explained when you turned back to look at him inquisitively, pulling it out of his back pocket.

“Of course you did,” you murmured, but came to sit beside him anyway as he knelt to cut open the tape holding the two flaps of the box together. Injeolmi was no doubt still hidden in your bedroom, wary of a stranger invading his space.

“So how old is he?” Jimin asked as he moved the flaps out of the way and pushed them down so they would stay that way.

“Two years,” you answered perfunctorily as you pulled out the instruction sheet sitting on top of a bunch of cardboard and foam packaging. Sneaking a glance at him, you saw his expression as he tried desperately to think of a way to continue the conversation, and feeling a little sorry for him (although you had no clue why, since he was a vampire who probably just wanted you to lower your guard before he ate you) you added, “I found him on the streets during one of my patrols.”

“O-oh,” Jimin was surprised to hear you continuing the conversation, but recovered quickly. “That must have been quite a story.”

Thinking about the night you’d found Injeolmi never failed to cheer you up. “It was,” you said, reading the instructions. You didn’t notice the small, contented smile that had stolen over your face, but Jimin did when he looked over after hearing the change in your tone. You were breathtakingly beautiful when you smiled, and he wanted to see it again and again.

“I’d love to hear it,” he said, instead of telling you how he felt, determinedly focusing on unpacking the parts to the scratch tower he’d bought so that you wouldn’t see the flush that had taken over his face.

Because Injeolmi had been a secret back at the Guild, chances to talk about your baby had been few and far between, so you leapt at the opportunity to now. “He belonged to a man who had recently turned,” you started. “I chased him all the way back to his house and found that he had drained his entire family.” That part was always difficult to talk about, because no matter how many times you saw the drained, pale, limp corpses, they never failed to make bile rise up your throat. Worse yet, in that particular home, there had been pictures scattered all over the place of a happy, loving family. The father – who was now a mindless, starving, murderous vampire – had, in the pictures, worn such a jovial smile and the love that he’d had for his wife and children shone through his eyes.

All of that love, love you’d never experienced for yourself but wanted so badly, gone because he’d been bitten. You swallowed hard and continued your story. “Injeolmi was still a kitten then, I think they must have just gotten him, he was so little. After I put the vampire out of his misery, I heard Injeolmi crying.”

The story so far was turning out to be quite dark, and Jimin almost regretted asking.

“I found him hidden under the couch. He was so little back then, I could still hold him in my hands. I had to raid their belongings to find the cat food and all of that – he looked so skinny and hungry, like he hadn’t eaten anything for days. Then I just waited with him until the vet opened and I could get him checked out.

“Then, you know, I snuck him into the Guild and that’s how he became my baby,” you concluded. The both of you had continued unpacking while you were telling the story, so now you were staring at all the pieces and the nails laid out together on the floor. From the picture on the instruction sheet, you had a feeling that he’d gotten a way larger and more elaborate one than one cat really needed so he could spend a longer time in here talking to you.

Somehow, this scheme touched your heart.

The conversation flowed easily – you could tell that he really was trying to avoid talking about anything that might set you off or draw attention to his vampiric nature – and by the time the cat tower had been constructed, taking up almost a whole wall in your living room, you’d loosened up around him a great deal. He regaled you with funny stories about his brothers, including a particularly bizarre one involving Taehyung, Jungkook and Seokjin (apparently the oldest one) during the latter’s birthday that had you wheezing on the floor.

To thank him for buying the cat tower for Injeolmi, you lured the cat out of your bedroom, where he was sulking, with some of his favourite treats. You only had to tear open the sachet of Churu before he was sprinting out of the bedroom to you.

Snickering at how predictable your cat was, you handed Jimin the packet to let him feed Injeolmi. He looked at you with huge eyes, as if disbelieving that you’d actually be so kind, and you raised a brow at him. Injeolmi, for his part, was impatiently trying to get at the snack in your hand.

Finally, Jimin took it from your hand and held it out for the cat, squeezing lightly so the paste would come out on top. Injeolmi happily lapped up the tuna-flavoured snack, placing one paw on Jimin’s hand to hold it closer to him, and Jimin looked like he was falling in love.

When the Churu was all gone, you weren’t sure who was more disappointed, Jimin or the cat, and you rolled your eyes lightly as the vampire looked at you pleadingly while Injeolmi sat back, licking his lips clean. “No,” you told Jimin. “He can’t have more than one.”

With a sigh, Jimin got up and threw the empty packet in the bin. “Thank you for letting me play with him,” he said as he started making his way to the door. You got up and followed him.

“No problem,” you replied, and were surprised to find that you truly meant it. “Thank you for the cat tower.”

He smiled at you so widely his eyes seemed to disappear. “It was my pleasure,” he told you. “And…” he added right before you were about to shut the door. You opened it back up and leaned against the door frame, raising a brow at him. “If you ever want to take Injeolmi on an adventure, we have really nice gardens on the property. It’s cold outside right now, I’m sure he’ll like it. Norwegian forest cats like the cold.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling. “I’ll think about it,” you said noncommittally, but from the way he grinned at you as you closed the door, he knew just as well as you did that it was a done deal.

Jimin left your room and skipped right over to Taehyung’s. It was the middle of the day, which meant most of them were sleeping – save, of course, Jin, who made it a point to prepare your meals for you. It was really cute, even if it meant he wasn’t getting enough sleep and was grouchy all night when they were actually up and about. No one really minded, though. Jin really did love to cook, and it had been so long since he’d gotten the opportunity to, since vampires didn’t eat food.

Slipping into the cool darkness of his brother’s room, Jimin made his way unerringly to the bed where Taehyung was warmly ensconced. With his enhanced night vision, he didn’t need much light to tell where he was going, after all. He threw himself down onto the mattress, right on top of his brother, who grunted in surprise.

“Jimin-ah… what the fuck are you doing?” he groaned in his sleep-raspy voice, pushing weakly at his brother’s body. Since he was barely awake, he couldn’t muster up the strength to get him off, and gave up after a second, sinking back into the mattress and starting to go back to sleep.

Jimin, who wasn’t having any of that today, wriggled around on top of Taehyung so that he couldn’t fall back asleep. “Taehyungie,” he whined, unbearably excited and needing someone to squeal to about all the progress he’d made with you. And your cat! That fluffy, spoilt baby had his whole heart now.

When it looked like Taehyung was determined to continue ignoring him, Jimin decided that more drastic measures had been taken, and stuck the hand that Injeolmi had touched under his brother’s nose.

A second later, Taehyung’s eyes had fully opened. Alert now, his gaze snapped to Jimin’s, who was now smirking at him smugly. “Is that…” he trailed off.

“Yup.”

“You – what – how?”

“You snooze, you lose,” Jimin informed his brother. Abruptly infuriated, Taehyung pushed himself up from the bed so hard that Jimin, who was still lying on top of him, fell to the mattress with a yelp. As the two started roughhousing, they didn’t notice Jungkook, who was in the room next to Taehyung, slipping in.

“Guys, it’s the middle of the day,” he whined, yawning.

The two other vampires broke apart slightly guiltily. “Sorry, Kookie,” Taehyung apologized.

Rubbing his eyes, Jungkook came over and lay down between his brothers. “What were you guys fighting about anyway?”

Instead of responding verbally, Jimin repeated his earlier action, waving his hand under his brother’s nose.

“Wow,” Jungkook responded, awed. “Is that Y/n’s cat?” he asked, almost wriggling in his excitement.

“Mhm,” Jimin confirmed.

“You got to play with him?” Jungkook questioned, wide-eyed.

Jimin just looked pleased with himself.

“How?” Jungkook repeated his hyung’s earlier question, but with so much enthusiasm that Jimin couldn’t help but spill the beans. How could he deny the maknae anything when he looked at him with stars in his eyes like that, almost as if he couldn’t believe how brilliant his brother was?

“I bought the largest, most ridiculously elaborate cat tower I could find online and assembled it together with her,” he divulged, grinning triumphantly as he explained his masterplan.

Both his brothers gasped, and he could hear the cogs turning in their heads. “No, you can’t also get cat towers,” he deadpanned, knowing that if he didn’t, they would do exactly the same thing.

“Why not?” Taehyung sulked.

“Because she has one cat and his cat tower already takes up one entire wall of her living room,” Jimin explained, snickering. “Find your own thing,” he snapped.

“You’re such a mean brother,” Taehyung whined.

Jimin shrugged. “You had a head start, bro,” he pointed out. “You were the one who found her.” He could barely keep a straight face as he pointed it out, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

“She hates me because of that!” Taehyung fairly yelled, frowning even harder now.

“Well, you tried to drain her,” Jungkook pointed out reasonably. “You can’t possibly expect her to be rolling out the red carpet for you.”

Taehyung flipped over onto his stomach and screamed into his pillow in frustration, flailing a little. “You come into my room, wake me up in the middle of the day -” he muttered angrily.

Ignoring his continued ranting, Jimin grinned at Jungkook. “Do you want to hear about Y/n and her cat?” he offered the maknae.

Predictably, Taehyung fell silent. Irritated as he might be with his brothers, he did want to listen. Jimin, knowing that he had the undivided attention of the other two vampires in the room, launched into a spectacular and almost certainly exaggerated tale of his time with you today, while his audience lapped up every word.

He left out the part about the gardens outside, because he knew that if he didn’t, all of them would be camped out in the gardens until you decided to show up, which would be extremely strange and probably scare you back into your room for good. Sometimes, his brothers were really too much.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to wait long at all. The next morning, after rising at six am (what? A lifetime habit of waking up before the sun rose for training, or going to bed in the early morning after a night of patrolling, made it difficult to keep to a normal sleep schedule), you pulled your coat and boots on over your pajamas and got ready to go out.

“Come here, baby,” you called Injeolmi, opening the door. He’d never been allowed to leave your room back at the Guild since pets were ‘a sign of weakness’, according to Master Bang, but now that you were here, you could do whatever you wanted. And what you wanted was to give your Norwegian forest cat a taste of what winter air was like. You were sure he’d love it; you’d spent many hours looking at videos of his brethren enjoying the cold air and snow.

He just cocked his head at you, slightly confused. “Come on,” you repeated, kneeling. He ran to you automatically, and you gathered him up in your arms, before leaving your room and shutting the door after you.

“You’re a chubby little chonk, aren’t you, baby boy?” you told him as you wandered down the hallway. He didn’t respond, but looked up at you, and you took that as confirmation that he was, in fact, paying attention to you, and continued talking to him as you tried to figure out how to get to the gardens. Maybe you should have asked Jimin for help, but that ship had sailed now, and it couldn’t be that hard to find an exit to this freaking mansion.

Finding a small spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, you made your way down, pleasantly surprised to find yourself in what appeared to be servants’ quarters. “There has to be some sort of exit here, right?” you mumbled to yourself, readjusting your grip on Injeolmi.

Finally, after some lost wandering (and serious consideration to breaking a window or something just to get out of the building) you found some sliding glass doors that opened to the gardens. The moment you pushed it open, Injeolmi chattered happily at the new sensation of the cold air rushing through his fur, and you smiled at him bemusedly as you bent over to put him on the ground.

Excited now, he ran off to explore some bushes, and you followed at a more sedate pace, keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. The sun was starting to rise now, since you’d taken so long to find your way out of the maze-like halls of the mansion, and you had to admit that the garden really was pretty, bathed in the pink and orange glow of the sunrise.

Based on what you knew about vampires, they were incredibly sensitive to even the faintest sunlight, so you expected to be alone this morning. It was why you hadn’t bothered arming yourself before you left your room, something you regretted immensely when you rounded a corner and saw the tall vampire crouched before a giant rose bush.

Namjoon could hear you the moment you opened the sliding doors, of course, but didn’t want to confront you or make you feel uncomfortable by announcing his presence prematurely, so he’d continued his gardening. Plus, of course, he was used to having this time to be alone with his precious plants, and he figured if you didn’t cross paths with him today… well, there’d be other opportunities.

As he looked over at you, however, he wondered if that had been a miscalculation. You looked at him like you’d seen a ghost, your eyes almost bugging out of your head as you gaped at him. Really, not the most attractive expression, but he still thought you were immensely adorable, and in different circumstances he might have come over to kiss your cheek.

“Good morning,” he greeted, standing up and brushing soil off his pants.

“Yes, good morning,” you murmured in response, collecting yourself, though you were still frowning. He ached to smooth that crease in your brow.

You were abruptly feeling very vulnerable standing in front of a vampire without any of your weapons, so you fiddled with the sleeve of your puffy jacket, your gaze sliding over to where Injeolmi was still sniffing curiously at some bushes. Really, you thought, his lack of reaction to the vampire standing in front of him was very out of character, considering how wary he’d been of Jimin yesterday.

The silence stretched out awkwardly, until Namjoon finally couldn’t take it anymore and asked, “What brings you out here this early?”

You shrugged. “I wanted to let Injeolmi explore,” you explained, your eyes drifting back over to your cat, who was having the time of his little life, really.

“Right…” Namjoon responded, not really knowing how to carry on the conversation.

“Jimin told me about the gardens yesterday,” you explained, unexpectedly throwing him a bone.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking pleased. The gardens were his pride and joy – he’d need to thank Jimin later for sending him this unexpected gift.

“Yeah, he wasn’t exaggerating, too. The gardens are really pretty,” you said, looking around.

Namjoon’s chest puffed up – he couldn’t help it. “Thank you,” he said.

Your gaze shot back to his. “You did all this?” you asked, gesturing at the garden in general.

He nodded proudly, looking around. It really was spectacular, he thought, looking at the various plants, bushes and trees he’d cultivated and pruned. Different parts of the garden had different themes – this was a rose garden, like they had in Victorian movies in the West, and in another corner there was a Japanese-inspired Zen garden, and in yet another part, a small replica of the gardens at the Forbidden City in China and so on.

He took you on a tour of the gardens, showing you as much as he could before the sun grew too strong and he had to retire. You were suitably impressed by his work, something that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. You collected your cat, who’d decided to take a nap on a patch of grass, and he walked you back to your room since you confessed that you were likely to get lost again attempting to return.

“Namjoon-ssi?” you said as you walked side by side quietly.

“Hmm?”

“I think it’s really impressive that you managed to cultivate such a massive and diverse garden,” you complimented him.

He flushed, ducking his head at the praise. “It was nothing. I’ve had a very long time to do it,” he brushed aside your compliment, looking embarrassed.

“Still,” you persisted. “It really is something.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue as smoothly as water.

You blinked at him, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Then again, he was a lot older than you, right? Maybe it was just one of those things, you shrugged off.

“Have a good rest,” you bade him goodbye at your door. He nodded and smiled as you returned to your room to wash Injeolmi’s paws, waiting for you to shut the door behind you before he leapt around in excitement, punching the air with his fist.

238 notes · View notes

eitelle · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!! Congrats on 60 followers btw! 💗

I am a female and I’d like to matched up with a guy from Haikyuu. I am ENFJ, (but sometimes enfp). I’m outgoing and generally nice to everyone, but I have a very sassy, goofy personality. Naturally flirty and very affectionate, and my love language is physical touch. I have my moments when I get shy and anxious, especially around someone I really have a crush on. Yet at the same time I’m the person always trying to hug and cuddle my friends even after roasting them. My favorite colors are blue, red, purple and pink. I love some teasing. I’m passionate about acting and singing. I love to listen to all kinds of music. I have long curly blackish hair and I’m 5’2. I’m a Gemini Sun, Cancer Rising and Gemini Moon. I am a caring and adaptable person, and like to make people happy I always finding a way to slip a stupid joke in🙄( joking is my coping mechanism) . My favorite food is tacos. African-American, and I like someone that I can relate to. I don’t have a specific type, but I do like someone with goals and passion. I like someone I can laugh with and also have real conversations with. I’m so into the romantic lovey-dovey stuff, yet sometimes I act like a little boy💀. I can be loud asf, even just when normally talking cause I usually have a lot of energy.

As far as style goes, it varies from 12 year old boy with some joggers and a t-shirt wayyyy too big for me , to like a 90s baddie with some hoops on, to girly with skirts, sweaters and some knee high socks. As far as accomplishments go, I’ve won state in theater and continue to pursue acting. It’s something I’m very passionate about. Some flaws of mine are overthinking and my anxiety. Like I’ll overthink an entire situation before I really know what happened and assume that someone like hates me. Or I’ll assume I’m talking to much and that’s it’s annoying so I just kinda.. shut down. My anxiety can get kinda bad, i get all shaky and I care a lot about what people think of me (although I try to deny it). So I’ll need someone who can bring me back to earth every now and then. But it’s getting better with time and I’m trying to stress myself out less. When I’m out I’ve got such a big personality and I’m making dumb jokes and dancing, but when I get home I’m just chilling and watching anime. (Although I will dance and make jokes if I feel like it). And I’m a night owl!

Sorry if this was too much!! I really appreciate what you are doing 💗.

OH MY GOD IM AN INFJ THAGS SO COOL!! MY ONLINE PERSONALITY IS LOWK ENFJ THO SO I THINK THATS SO SWAG SHSHSHS (if u recall me saying otherwise shhhhh thats when i trusted 16personalities) ALSO STATE IN ACTING??? UR SO COOL WTF?? ANYWAYS

ok i was actually just wanting to do a matchup w this character n it just so happens u seem to literally fit what id say is his ideal type so i have matched you with: semi eita

GOSH I LOVE HIM OK HCS: (also im so sorry for doing these so late shshs 😖)

forst of all hes def helping w ur lines

like hes such a good person to help prep u

hes also like lowk very lowkey shdhd and honest/blunt so if u ever get an anxiety attack i think hed tell u how it is like straight up n that ur overreacting but in the way that snaps u back to reality

n hes like ur anchor shdhd

i think thats so cute

and sometimes he gets stage fright so i feel like your presence would just help comfort him

OOH ALSO YALL WOULD PROB RELEASE SO GS TOGETHER

N HED LOVE SINGING W U 😫‼️

i feel like hed call u angel, his muse, or his bitch. no in between.

i also feel like he loves how hes so pale and his hair is gray and hes tall n ur lowk short n ur skin is darker and ur hair is like complete opposites and he loves that

like the opposites but fits so well together thing

yall def listen to ricky montgomery together idec.

and taylor swift.

ooh i know for a fact that mans had a hamilton phase but thats why hes so hot tbh

yall also make like photo/mood boards of yall or playlists lol i feel so lonely rn help-

if one of ur anxiety attacks comes in public u know this man is gonna pull the “im famous u want a photo?” to drag attention away from u shdh

oh u def call him suga by “accident” to make him mad HAHAHSJSH

prob the clubbing people but i could see him n u watching anime together and u accidentally hum the ops while harmonizing by accident sometimes shahsgdj

GOSH OK THAT WAS LONG SORRY OK ANYWAYS NOW ITS TIME FOR A ONE SHOT!! (also if u ever need to talk ab something my dms r always open!!)

IS THAT THE TOUNGE N LIKE TEETH THING BUT IN ANIME??/7;6&3);&;7: I JEVER NOTICED THIS WHAT THE FUCK

on a normal friday night, a (your age) person would normally be out with friends, or maybe even going clubbing. but not you, no you and your boyfriend were sitting on the couch, howl's moving castle on your tv and your head on his chest.

it was a chill day to say the least, you and him both having a full day off and spending it like this the two of you too exhausted from the weeks events already. you had random music playing in the background. by random i mean random it went from ed sheeran to lil uzivert all the way to BTS; needless to say it was kinda a mess. but that was how you liked it.

all of a sudden ‘The Schuyler Sisters’ from the original broadway cast of hamilton: the musical started blasting interrupting the beautiful silence w background noise.

you turn to look at your boyfriend, your chests now pressed against each other to look at him staring just past you at his phone, a light pink blush tinting his ears.

“a hamilton kid i see..” you tease playfully noticing how he flushed even deeper.

“o-oi shut up, my- my mom set it for me ok?” he tries to say, his excuses unheard as you burst into laughter tired of holding it in.

“we- well at least pick it up,” you say between laughs.

“fine. hello?” he says as he answers the call. “oh- but today, no i understand. of course. ok ill be right there.”

as he shifts you look at him all of a sudden concerned, you didn’t want your boyfriend overworking himself afterall.

“darling is everything ok?” you ask afraid of the answer. then you notice how hes not meeting your eyes and how hes tapping his knee with his pointer finger. his little tell he was trying to hold in laughs. “oh haha very funny semi now drop the act can we please just go back?” you try to reason.

“oh but getting u annoyed like this is so cute >w<“ he laughs seeing you grumble about how he was ‘so annoying’ as you turn to ignore him.

“oh shut up.”

“make me :p”

“maybe i will,” you say before stuffing a pillow in his mouth and leaning your head against it. “now enjoy the movie.” </3

HES SO PRETTY OML 🤩🤤

ohmygod now its time for my last texts for this event ahhh

OK I HOPE U ENJOYED SORRY THIS WAS SO LATE SHDGSH

#AHHHH AHHHH AHHHHHH #OH MY GOD #IM GONNA CRY WOW #THIS EVENT #HAS BEEN #WOW #YEAH #michelles 60 follower matchup event #SHDHJSHDJDHDJD

6 notes · View notes

brookie42032 · 7 years ago

Text

It’s me

is it okay that I’m always thinking about you.

It happened again I got myself some happiness and I let it slip through my fingers. The fact this always happens just makes me feel like I’m never gonna be happy like ever

I feel stupid that I’m trying to convince myself that I’ll be alright but i don’t think so this time.

It’s not like last time; last time I had the soul to continue on even though my heart hurt so damn much.

My heart has been hurting more , more than ever. I’m really tired like physically I try to move around but shit man my face is starting to get pale asf.

It’s probably from not eating. I don’t why I’m not eating it’s like it doesn’t matter if I eat or not or I don’t have the urge that everybody else has to eat .

I’ve been sleeping a lot and smoking weed and popping my pills. They’re prescribed btw but I get really drowsy off of them.

I feel stupid because I haven’t been going to school this whole week because I’m too tired or my back really hurts me. I looked at my grades though they kind of lifted me a bit.

I don’t why I slipping into this dreadfulness but school has been giving me anxiety and I haven’t felt that scared or anxious since I was younger and I first dealt with it.

And maybe it’s not even that maybe I feel like i I need to making a statement.

I’m just tired of living and no one seems to take it as serious as something that don’t hold that much importantance.

I feel like I’ve been dealt a bad deck of cards man. My life reminds something hell would be like or something that relates to hell.

1 note · View note

venusrosepetal · 7 years ago

Text

Our Girl (Speed Dating)

Summary: (Modern!AU) Army medic, Private L/N, gets deployed on her first tour of Afghanistan. Struggling to fit in with her new comrades and adapt to the world of war, Pte L/N finds herself befriending a local, and pushing the boundaries of army regulations.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes - Reader x OC

Warnings: war, angst, blood, gore, death, PTSD, mental health, terrorism, stereotypes, sexual indications, swearing, Cockney, slow-burn (throughout series)

Key: Pte - Private. Cpl - Corporal. Sgt - Sergeant. FOB - Forward Operating Base. ASF - Afghan Special Forces.

Word Count: 2,443

A/N: I am SO sorry that I took forever to post this. I’ve been busy planning/baking/cooking/wrapping for my daughters 2nd birthday this month. I hope this chapter is worth the wait, let me know! ALSO, I’m sorry if this is horse poo, I felt like this story needed a good filler chapter as the previous two had blood and gore, we needed a slightly safer chapter.

Bastion, Afghanistan. Day 3.

No progress had been made with Barnes. Every time he entered a room, his eyes would instantly find yours, narrowing on contact. How the bloody hell you were meant to survive six months with not one, but two, bosses who despised you only God knew. When Barnes wasn’t looking, you found yourself compelled by his sinful good-looks; shame about his personality though.

The platoon was currently in one of the many briefing tents within Bastion, waiting for Captain Rogers to go over the team’s next move. Barnes stood in the front, three different maps spread out behind him, his eyes squinted on you. You kept your gaze locked on the notepad in your lap, doodling little patterns on the margin. A blush starts to creep its way across your cheeks, pricking the tops of your ears as you feel him staring at you. You let out a small, flustered sigh as Captain Rogers walked in; everyone standing-to-attention.

“Relax guys,” Lowering back into your seat, you chanced a peek at Barnes, only to be caught by the smirking brunette. Your head snapped back towards the Captain, as your blush deepens, giving him your full attention.

“So, we’re out of Bastion in the morning. We’ll head out to our special Forward Operating Base; this will be our home for the duration of the tour. When we arrive in the village, we’ll link up with a small group of Afghan National Army. There’s a small cluster of Taliban destabilizing the area.” Your eyes moved from Rogers when you heard a sarcastic lovely from Smurf who sat beside you; scribbling the details in his notebook.

“We need the locals to like us, and more importantly trust us. Nobody let me down.” The Cap continued, scanning the room as he spoke. His eyes lingered on yours just a little longer as he said the last sentence.

“Right. Our task on the ground is to support, assist and advise the Afghan National Army with patrols around the general area of the FOB and facilitate the local children’s safe passage to and from school.” Barnes spoke up. Pointing to different points on the map with a marker, while explaining the task, before turning back to the platoon.

“Sound easy?” Rogers supplemented.

“Lolly-pop men with guns Sir.” You spoke up, smiling at your joke. In retrospect, you probably should have known not to try and joke with the overly sensitive Captain.

“Then pull your head outta your ass L/N! There’s no such thing as an easy mission.” Your smile falls at his outburst. Besides you, Smurf was shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

“You’ll be flown out in your sections at 0400 hours tomorrow, so tonight I’ll need you all to see the medic,” Barnes announced, purposely interrupting the current glaring match between yourself and the Captain. Your focus moved to him as he continued to speak at you. “It’s like speed dating L/N. One minute each then you chuck ‘em outta there.” Forcing a tight lipped smile, you nodded once to Barnes.

Both the Rogers and Barnes walked out of the tent after that statement. You sat there, flustered. How did you always manage to fuck it up further for yourself? You were just trying to crack some jokes. Break the tension. Maybe get them to like you, but nothing you did seemed to work.

“Nice one Y/N.” Smurf’s hostile tone commented beside you. You ran your fingers through the top of your hair; pulling slightly on your tight braid as you groaned.

This tour is going to be so much fun.

Hot...

It’s so hot…

What is it like forty fi- IT’S FORTY-EIGHT BLOODY DEGREES!?

You swipe the back of your left hand over your forehead, ridding the skin of the dripping perspiration while filling out Clint's medical form on your desk.

“How’re your teeth?” You questioned, looking up from the form while fanning yourself with your hand.

“My teeth? Why the hell do you care about my teeth?” a confused Clint asked.

“Yeah you know, any cavities? How about wisdom teeth? We’re going out for almost six months Barton. I’m more than certain there isn’t going to be a dentist on that Fob, and I’d rather not stick you with a sick note ‘cos you had one-to-many Toffees.” You quipped.

“Yeah, got ya. No, no cavities. Wisdom teeth have already been removed.” He Shot you a double thumbs up with a wink.

“Awesome. Just sign the bottom there,” You slid the form and pen across the table towards Clint, letting him scribble on the bottom line before passing it back. “And you’re done, Barton. Send the next guy in please.”

You signed and filed Clint's form as the next person came in and stood in front of the desk. Quickly grabbing a blank sheet from the pile to your right, you look up and write down their name.

“The boys giving you a hard time?” he asked, taking the seat in front of you.

“Meh. Sam came in here earlier with tissue paper dotted on his face. Said he knew I was scared of blood.” You rolled your eyes in as you thought back to the comedic American.

“I dunno Smurf. I feel like every chance I get, I fuck up. I keep saying the wrong thing. Have you seen the way Cap and Barnes look at me?” You huff, dragging your hands over your face in irritation.

“We’re all tryin’ to prove ourselves out here. You’ll be fine, I promise you.”

“I proper froze in that hospital.” Maybe you couldn’t hack it. Sure you were top of your class in training, but that's exactly what it was, training. No one's lives were in immediate danger. There was no real blood. No real missing limbs.

“You’ll be fine Y/N. It takes time to adjust. Sounds like it was a nasty one back there .”

“I’m worried I won’t be able to cut it,” You looked at him with an expression that could only resemble a hurt puppy. “I have to look after you guys out there. I can’t fuck that up Smurf.”

“We’re all worried we won’t be able to cut it. And anyone who says they’re not is bullshitting.” He gave you a knowing smile as he sunk into the chair opposite you.

“Hm…” The sincerity behind his deep blue eyes brought you slightly off-edge. It was nice to know you weren’t the only one having doubts, even if you were the only one to show it. Looking up at him again, you remember what Wanda had told you before.

“Wanda told me about your brother, Geraint.” As soon as the words left your mouth, it was like a switch had been flipped. Smurfs soft, compassionate face quickly turned stone hard.

“When the Taliban jack potted him, Barnes said he heard a cheer go up.” he growled.

“I’m so sorry Smurf” Now you were mirroring the expression he wore just a few breaths ago.

“I’m not being stupid or nothing Y/N, but these people, they’re not like us. They’re heartless.”

“You’ll be alright mate.” Repeating his earlier words back to him, once again, turned out to be a mistake.

“They laughed as he lost his life out there,” He growled as he pointed out the window. “He lost his life for our country Y/N. I don’t want him to have died in vain.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” he blew an exasperated breath, scratching the side of his pale face in irritation. “I’m going to make sure, he didn’t die in vain.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at him for a handful of seconds, not really knowing what to say.

“You got piles Smurf?” The Captain stuck his head through the door, clearly annoyed at how long Smurf had been with you.

“No Sir.”

“Then you don’t need to sit down do you.” He motioned his thumb over his shoulder, silently telling Smurf to get out.

The Welshman scribbled his name on the blank form before you and swiftly left the small building. You pushed your chair back from the desk slightly, the metal legs scraping across the plastic floor of the converted shipping container. Captain Rogers looked towards the sound, meeting your tired eyes. You motioned a ‘T’ shape with your hands, wordlessly telling your superior you needed a five-minute break. Rogers rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless, moving away from his watch on the door.

Grasping Smurfs form off the table you move over to lay on the examination bed in the far right corner of the room. You were worried about Smurf. But was it really your place to write his personal problems in his medical file? He didn’t know what he was saying to you at the time. He didn’t know he was admitting feelings, that in any other case, would declare him unstable. He wasn’t in his right frame of mind.

Twirling your black biro around your fingers you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Choosing, despite your displeasure, to go to Sgt Barnes later that evening to voice your worries in hopes he can talk some sense into Smurf.

Three hours later, and you were now busy packing all your medical supplies and equipment into your hefty burgen. Your earlier discussion with Smurf still rang fresh in your mind as you carefully ticked items off your checklist, while throwing said items into the bag. You were so invested in your thoughts and packing bandages that you failed to notice the knock coming from the other side of the door. It wasn’t until you heard someone clearing their throat that you became aware of another's presence.

Barnes was slightly perched on the side of your small desk; one foot on the ground, the other dangling off the side with his bulky arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing that same stupid smirk from the brief this morning, and you wanted to flick it right off his handsome bloody face.

“Sorry Boss, I didn’t hear you come in,” you stated, looking in his blue eyes before returning back to your former task. “What is it I can do for you this evening?”

“I figured that much L/N,” he said. “I was wondering if you could have a look at my blisters.” he seemed to be being civil, no rude remarks fired just yet.

“Yeah, no probs sarge. Hop up on the table and take your boots and socks off.” You pointed over to the bed as you walked over to your medical kit and tossed down the checklist in favor of some blue latex gloves. You move towards the bed where Barnes was now sitting comfortably with his trousers rolled up to his knees, white blisters of full display.

“New boots?” you ask, picking up his left foot and examining the large bubbles.

“Yeah, Stev-Captain Rogers recommended these ones. Said all you British lot wear ‘em.” You look up from his feet to see his face slightly shift in color. A smooth pink now tinted his cheeks from his name slip. You softly smile at him, letting him know it can slide. He returns your smile before you get back to the harrowing matter; blisters.

“Altburgs?” he nodded “ Yeah they’re a pretty Gucci bit’ta kit. A bugger to break-in though.” Grabbing his right foot to inspect, you don’t even realize the slag coming out of your mouth until you look up at the brunettes puzzled expression. “Gucci is a term we use for un-issued kit. Army stuff we buy ourselves from private manufacturers.” Barnes breathes out a small ‘ahh’ nodding his head, now fully understanding.

“Anything you can do for me Doc?” He asks as you place his foot back down on the bed and take a step back.

“I can tape them up for you Sarge, but you’re gonna need to break those boots in. Put on a few pairs of sock, and stand in a bucket of hot water. The heat and the stocks will stretch them out good and proper.” you gave a curt nod as you grab the tape off the top of your open burgen, before speaking again. “And, with all due respect Boss, your feet smell bloody foul.” The usually grouchy Sgt burst into laughter and you were sure that if you were to die right then and now, you go happily knowing that his laughter was the last thing you heard. It was harmonious.

You laughed quietly along with him, happy to think he might not resent you as much as previously thought. It wasn’t until the laughter died down and the Sgt was replacing his sock that your mind wavered back to your Welsh comrade. You knew you had to mention Smurf now, but you desperately didn't want to ruin the new mood set between you two.

Barnes finished tying his laces he jumped off the bed, offering you a smile and a thank you before headed for the door. Just as his hand brushes the door handle you pipe up.

“Sgt Barnes, wait.” His blue eyes meet yours and you motion for him to take a seat again, this time at the desk. He obliged sitting in, what was, your seat, while you paced in front of him. He could sense your worry by the way you bit onto your thumb nail and scratched your head. Finally, after pacing for what felt like an eternity, you stopped dead and looked at his face. He was going to look at you different after this.

“It’s about Smurf,” he nodded for you to continue “I’m worried about his mental state.” Barnes looked taken aback by this for a second, before quickly recovering. His face going from mild shock to his usual distaste.

“He’s one of our best soldiers Private. What do you mean ‘worried about his mental state?’”

“ I mean, I don’t think he’s in a stable condition. He came in for his check up earlier, talking about how he’s going to make sure Geraint ‘didn’t die in vain.’ I know it must be heard losing his brother, but it’s like he has some personal vendetta against these people. I saw him, yesterday, square up to one of the ASF pilots who accidentally barged into him. It was like he was looking for a fight Boss. I’m just worried. I don’t want him to pull something stupid you know?” You hadn’t realized you’d begun pacing again, until Sgt Barnes reached out and grasped your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“Look, L/N. He’s one of the best. He’s had a bit a trouble these last couple years, but he’s good. As for the almost fight with the ASF guy, that’s just basic Army banter. You’re reading too much into this, OK? Don’t panic yourself, he’s fine.” Sgt Barnes gave you a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes by far, but you knew not to press any further.

You just hoped, and prayed, that he was right.

For all of your sakes.

TAGS: @jacks-on-crack @sebstanwassup @kozmicrock @just-call-me-mrs-captain @charlesgrey1875 @kimistry27 @marvelrevival @viollettes @letmebecomeataboo @phvckingphandoms @langinator @emolordisme @magsimovna @fairchild21 @shelvesandwhelves @kithlin <---- no bold = tag didn’t work.

#brooklyn-to-battlefields #ourgirl #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #BUCKY AU #soldier bucky #bucky fanfic #MilitaryAU #steve rogers

35 notes · View notes