#cheers to the last week of the year~~~~~~~~~ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

losers-clvb · 3 days ago

Text

i love you, i'm sorry // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x bobby's daughter!reader

summary: a teenaged sam left you broken. now he's back and you're not sure what to do.

content: angst, some swearing but it's not overdone, heartache, both reader and sam are in the wrong in a way (but mostly sam), reader is bobby's daughter, big brother figure dean winchester, reader has confusion over her feelings

word count: 4k

note: this was going to be one long fic, but i felt it would be better as two parts seeing how the total word count is nearing 11k. the second part will be out this week and will have smut. the title is from "i love you, i'm sorry" by gracie abrams, but no direct inspiration was taken from the song. i interchange the use of "your father" and "bobby" but keep in mind they are intended to be the same person. enjoy!

masterlist part two

----

It had been years since the Winchester boys had come to stay with the Singers. Life, or hunting more like, had gotten in the way. They knew they had somewhere to come home to, or at least that was what you and Bobby had hoped. Bobby was your father, and you his little girl, no matter how old you got. He hadn’t wanted to be a father growing up, but once he held you in his arms, he knew you had him wrapped around your finger. It had been only months after you were born that your mother died, killed by your father in a desperate attempt to keep you safe. He had begun a life of hunting after that. He knew he needed to find some way for all of this pain to make sense. Somewhere along the way, he had met John and, in turn, Sam and Dean.

You had been sandwiched in between the boys for what seemed like all your life. They were your honorary family, though your relationship with Sam had blossomed into something more. It had been your sixteenth birthday - Sam was 17 - when he had gotten you alone to give you your gift. It was small, just a necklace that he had found at a convenience store on the way to Bobby’s, but you still wore it everyday. Your response to this gift was, naturally, to kiss him. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought of doing it before, you just never had the chance to. His response was, naturally, to kiss you back like you were his lifeline.

A whirlwind romance, hidden from your father and Dean, ensued until he had run away to college. Somehow him leaving had meant leaving everything, even you, behind. You had cared, of course, but you couldn’t tell anyone. You cried every night for days. Bobby had noticed something was off. He always noticed when his girl wasn’t herself. He tried to cheer you up with those dad jokes he had been using on you since you were born. He tried chocolates and flowers and every little trinket he saw that reminded him of you. Nothing worked. You had pulled yourself out of the spell of heartbreak at some point. You knew it was silly to cry over a boy. Even if that boy was the love of your life.

Life had been normal for a while. John and Dean would visit once in a while for dinner or lunch. Your heart leaped every time the door opened, hoping Sam would come through it. He never did. You helped Bobby research and sorted papers. You cooked meals and baked desserts, humming while you did so, which pulled at Bobby’s heartstrings in a bittersweet kind of way. You were starting to consider looking for someone else to spend the rest of your life with, someone who could make you feel even half of what you felt for Sam.

Then he appeared in your life again. There he was, standing in the entryway of your house with a shaggy haircut and those puppy dog eyes that hadn’t changed in the five years since you had last seen him.

You knew he had begun hunting again. How could you not? Dean called what seemed like every day to ask for help with a case. You had been happy to help like always until you caught the low sound of a second male voice in the background. You promptly hung the phone up. From that day forward, you waited until your dad confirmed that it was anyone but the Winchester boys calling. Both Bobby and Dean had questioned you, but you knew better than to tell them the true reason for it. You just hoped you would never have to face Sam again.

But here he was. Your hands, holding a stack of books you were returning to their correct home, trembled when he said your name. You could feel tingling in your fingertips, a sure sign you were about to cry. Neither of you moved, as if your feet were cemented to the floor. You both stared at each other, eyes locked and waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Sam, get in here.” The sound of your dad’s voice from his study cured you of your paralysis. Before Sam could get another word in, you dashed to your room. The slam of the door was heard through the house, startling Dean and Bobby.

“What the hell was that?” Dean barked out. When Sam had responded with your name, the looks of confusion on the two men in front of him deepened.

“Why?” Bobby asked, eyeing Sam like he had done something to you. And he had. It just wasn’t something that he had done recently.

“I don’t know.” Sam breathed out. He knew. Of course he knew. How could he not, when for the first two years of college he had spent every night wanting to call you and apologize. He knew he hurt you. He knew he was still in love with you, just as he had been many years before. He also knew that some part of you still loved him. The necklace. The glinting metal was the first thing his eyes caught when he had entered the house. You still wore the necklace he had given you. The sight of it made his heart reach for you.

----

You hadn’t made an appearance for lunch or dinner. You had locked yourself up in your room, only letting your dad inside when he had knocked softly. You made up something about feeling sick. He hadn’t believed you, but knew if you needed something you would go to him. He left your room after giving you a kiss on the forehead.

That had been hours ago. The moonlight shone through your window while you listened with attentive ears to try to decide if it was safe to venture downstairs for some food. The three men had called it a night around 45 minutes ago, and you hoped they were fast sleepers.

Five minutes of pure silence passed before you dared to try to leave. You had changed into your pajamas, a light purple tank top and matching shorts, and your socked feet were quiet on the hardwood flooring. You tiptoed down the stairs, gripping onto the railing.

Once making a sandwich, you took the food to the table to eat. You were quiet with your chewing, stopping occasionally when you heard the noises of the house settling. You were alone, yes, but you needed the time. Your eyes drooped low as you ate, fighting the sleep your brain needed after the emotional day. You had finished eating when you told yourself you could just close your eyes for a few seconds before getting up.

----

Sam had decided, after hours of tossing and turning in an attempt to sleep, that he had to see you. He had to apologize, had to make things right. He had crept up to your door, knocking in the chance that you were awake at that time of night. When you hadn’t answered, he had poked his head inside. He just needed to know you were there, but your empty bed made him stop. You were gone. Not in your room, which meant either you had fallen asleep elsewhere or something had taken you. He hoped for the former, though there was a small chance of the latter. A quick search had led him to the kitchen where you were slumped on the table, eyes closed and breath steady. There you were. The sight pulled a somber sigh from Sam. An image of you from earlier flashed across his mind. Your panicked expression, trembling hands, and wide eyes. You had obviously not been expecting to see him, though he had thought that Bobby would have told you before his arrival.

Sam walked to you, careful to make sure his footsteps were as quiet as possible. He didn’t want to leave you sleeping on the table. It wasn’t right and he knew that you would have regretted it in the morning. So, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your room. You seemed to curl into him in your sleep, much like you had all those years ago when he would sneak to your room at night.

The weightlessness of being carried woke you. At first, you believed you were dreaming. Then, the scent of coffee and cedar brought your eyes open. Sam. Sam Winchester was carrying you up the stairs and into your room. Your heartbeat quickened, panicking. What would you say to him? Thank you? Go away? What would he say to you? It was when Sam readjusted his hold on you that you had decided to just pretend you were still sleeping. He was the same as you remembered. The smell, the warmth, the careful but secure hold. All of it was the same.

You felt yourself being lowered onto what you presumed to be your bed. It was the same full sized bed you had since you were a kid. You knew your bed. The chill of night air was swept away by the weight of your blankets. Sam was tucking you in. He was taking the time and effort to tuck you into your bed. You felt a calloused hand brushed hair away from your forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

The words made your heart ache. You felt the honesty in them. It didn’t make what he did any less painful, but it made you remember why you had decided to internally forgive him only a year after he had left. His hand lingered on the side of your head for a few moments before he left you to sleep.

----

The morning came and you woke to the sound of birds chirping. Though you couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep all together, you pulled yourself out of bed to make breakfast for the house. If you didn't do it, Bobby would and it would end up being overcooked scrambled eggs with slightly burnt toast. As you went about getting yourself ready for the day, you couldn't help but think of the last night. Sam, he smelled the same, held the same warmth. Even the way he handled you, like you were his everything, was the same.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Usually, your dad would be awake and brewing a pot of coffee by this time. Though, he also put himself to bed earlier than he had the night before, so that could account for his absence. You figured someone would have been up by now. Preferably Dean to make your new found mission of ignoring Sam’s presence easier. You had decided this while brushing your teeth. You couldn’t hide away forever. You also couldn’t talk to him without choking on your own words. This was the better option.

While you began the simple breakfast of pancakes and bacon, you hummed to yourself. It was a habit you seemed to have picked up sometime in your teen years. The first few times you had caught your dad watching you with sad eyes, he had refused to tell you why he was so affected by the sound. You pestered him for months, yet the truth only came to light when a long time friend of his had come to visit. He had been sitting at the table while reading a newspaper when the words slipped out.

“You sound just like your mama.” The sentence made you stop in your tracks. The topic of your mother rarely came up between you and Bobby. You knew only the few stories he had let slip through on special occasions and the scraps of memories you could pull from his old friends. You had never told your father about the new information. Instead, you opted to continue on, knowing that the grief he felt initially was outweighed by the love for you having something in common with the mother you had never known.

The sound of footsteps pushed you back into reality. You kept your attention on the food you were making, assuming it would be Bobby finally making an appearance. That was until a figure in a worn down long sleeve and jeans slid into your line of sight. Sam. You tensed up yet continued your cooking. You could feel his eyes on you, flickering between your hands and your face. You both stayed like that for what felt like forever. No words, just Sam watching as you tried not to look at him.

That was until he said your name. He was trying to get you to look at him, to acknowledge he was there. You refused to give in. He didn't deserve your time. You hated him. Well, you didn't actually hate him, though you were sure you should. If you told yourself that you hated him enough times, maybe it would make that love for him go away. He said your name again, this time a bit louder with more effort.

“Please. Just look at me.” Sam was practically begging now. You flexed your jaw as you piled the last pancakes onto the large stack. You scooped up the plates of pancakes and bacon, delivering them to the middle of the dining table. Sam followed you around like a lost puppy, huffing out an irritated breath when you continued to ignore him. He just wanted you to turn your attention to him. He needed to say that he was sorry, needed to explain everything, and he needed to do it while he could get you alone. You just wouldn’t listen. He knew it was you trying to keep your pride, but it didn’t stop the instant frustration from bubbling up.

“I need to explain why I,” he breathed out, “why I did what I did.” Sam’s words were met with a scoff from you. You had moved past sad long ago and the panic you felt last night was simply because you felt like you were being cornered. Now you were angry. You pushed past Sam and grabbed a stack of plates and forks. The coffee you had started in the middle of your cooking had finally finished. You grabbed a mug and moved towards the pot, but Sam beat you to it. He made up a cup of coffee, two sugars and a splash of milk, before offering it to you. Of course he would remember how you liked your coffee. You stared at the cup for a moment before declining the peace offering by pouring coffee in the mug you held. You made it the same, but hoped the message got through to him: you were not interested in being friends.

“Seriously?” Sam asked incredulously. He was about to continue ranting when he heard a whistling growing closer. Bobby entered the kitchen with a smile, oblivious to what he had walked into.

“Morning.” Bobby greeted the two of you. He sat himself at the table, his usual spot that was worn down from years of occupancy. You followed his lead and sat in the chair next to him with a warm smile. Sam, obviously still upset from his failed attempt to speak to you, hadn’t moved from his spot at the counter. Dean, who had been like a bloodhound when he caught a scent of the food, entered the room cheerily. He poured his own coffee before sitting in the chair on your other side.

“Sammy, stop pouting and sit.” Dean ordered while piling pancakes and bacon onto his plate.

“Bring that pot over with ya.” Bobby added. Sam sighed as he did as he was told, grabbing a mug for Bobby on the way over. He took the last chair available. Unfortunately for you it was the one opposite from you. This meant a meal of avoiding catching his eyes with yours while Bobby and Dean spoke of their plans for the day.

----

You should probably apologize to the officer on the other end of the phone. She had called, courtesy of some hunter who needed the assistance, to verify that the FBI had actually been sent to investigate a crime. They hadn’t, of course, but the fact that it was a possible werewolf had led to a hunter being sent. When she questioned your authority, which you had none of but that wasn’t for her to know, you took out your pent up aggravation from Sam on her.

After the line clicked, signaling the end of the call, you swallowed harshly. It wasn’t fair. Why was Sam allowed to waltz back into your life right when you were beginning to move on? Why was he allowed to come and go as he pleased, yet you couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes? You let yourself sink into the office chair that was near the phones.

“What was all that about, sweetheart?” Dean. Of course he would come sniffing around for something to talk about. Your father and Sam had gone into town for something you failed to remember now. You looked up at him and narrowed your eyes at him.

“It was nothing.” You replied, not wanting to get into it all with him. Like your father, he didn’t know about you and Sam’s love affair. Or maybe he did. You couldn’t keep track of what Sam may or may not have said to him, but you knew that you had been silent about the whole thing. It was easier that way, not having to explain exactly what you were feeling.

“Is this about Sam?” Dean continued to push you. The words threw you off. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“What? He told you?” You weren’t angry about it. Well, maybe a little, but that had more to do with the fact that the relationship had been important enough to tell his brother about yet not important enough to keep alive. The spark in Dean’s eyes when you spoke told you that Sam had, in fact, not told him, but you just did. You looked away with burning cheeks.

“What’d he do? Try to get in your pants? Beat up your boyfriend?” Dean was teasing you now. He wanted the details. Despite what he may argue if ever asked, Dean Winchester was one of the biggest gossips you knew.

“No.” Your voice told Dean that you were angry about whatever it was, and you were on the verge of ranting about it.

“C’mon, sweetie, just tell big brother.” The words made you shoot him an annoyed but playful glare. There were many times growing up when Dean had played the big brother you never had. Somehow, you had never picked up on the bond with Sam. Now you kind of wished you had. It would have been much easier than this mess. You took in a breath before speaking.

“He left me.” You told the green eyed man. It was Dean’s turn to scrunch his eyebrows together in question.

“Yeah, join the club. What about it?”

“He kissed me. He called me every night when he wasn’t here. He made me laugh and blush and talked about a future. He told me he loved me. Then he left and I hadn’t heard his voice since.” Your words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them. You watched as Dean’s expression softened.

“Oh.” It was rare for Dean to be speechless but he didn’t know what else to say. He had picked up on something between the two of you when you were teens, but he figured it was just some good old fashioned mutual pining. He couldn’t have imagined Sam would be able to keep something like this from him.

You stood from the chair, certain that you could take a break from watching the phones that rarely rang. Dean stepped into the doorway to stop you from completely leaving the room.

“Listen, you can’t cry over him anymore. He’s not worth it.” Dean spoke, trying his best to console you. You were past that. You didn’t need comfort, you needed anger management.

“I hate him.” You looked into Dean’s eyes and he could see the defiant fire burning in them. He sighed and nodded.

“That works too, I guess.”

----

It was getting harder to ignore Sam. Not because you were tempted to have a conversation with him. You wanted to scream at him if anything. No, it was because your dad was too oblivious to the obvious discomfort between you two and kept assigning tasks for you and Sam to complete. Dean tried his best to replace you when this happened, but eventually Bobby gave him his own chores to complete.

You bounded out the door to your car. Sam followed you, grumbling to himself when you threw the door back into him. You waited for him to climb into the car with a blank expression on your face. The run to the store would hopefully be a quick one with no conversation. The silent drive lasted all of three minutes.

“Are you going to ignore me forever?” Sam asked, a mix of desperation and frustration in his voice. You kept your eyes on the road. The store was coming up soon. You just had to hold out until then.

“It’s my fault. Everything. All of it. Please… just… hear me out.” Apparently Sam no longer needed your direct attention to begin his apologizing. Your grip on the steering wheel tightened, but you still didn’t speak.

“It’s not an excuse, but,” Sam breathed in as if he was weighing the next words in his mind.

“I was going through a lot.” You were parking when you heard him. Thank God you were, because your immediate reaction was to turn your whole body to him. His eyes widened at the fury in your eyes.

“What about me? I was seventeen, dealing with stupid high schoolers and cranky hunters. All I looked forward to was you! I loved you and you decided I wasn’t even worth a call? Bullshit. All of it.” Maybe you were being mean. You knew what John Winchester was like. You had overheard enough phone calls between him and Bobby, had heard some stories from Sam and Dean. You understood his running from his father, but Sam could have at least called once. Or wrote a letter. Or sent a postcard. Anything but leave you in the dark.

Your words made his heart ache. He hated himself for never calling you. Hated himself for hurting you. For anything he had ever done to make you think he felt anything less than love towards you. He had no excuse for why he had done what he had done. His only line of defense against your anger was to respond to it with his own.

“And I was eighteen and running from a life of killing! I hated hunting. I hated my father. You know that! I never called because I needed to completely cut myself off from this world. I needed a normal life.” Sam wasn’t being completely fair. He knew that. His response was a weak attempt at trying to diminish the guilt he felt. Yes, he wanted a normal life. But look how that worked out. All that pain he had caused just to come back to what he was running from. You shook your head and opened your door.

“Fuck you Sam.” The anger seethed through you as you climbed out and made for the entrance of the grocery store. You had missed the way Sam’s own anger had broken with your final words. You had missed the way he physically shrank down. You had missed the way he followed you as he had earlier, but this time with less motivation. He wanted you to come back to him. He had never seen you so angry before. He missed the girl who would place light kisses on the tip of his nose, the one who would let him hold her all night long.

#x reader #sam winchester #spn #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader angst #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester x bobby's daughter!reader

59 notes · View notes

chordsykat · 1 day ago

Text

Dethkomic III Casting Call

Alright, gang. It's time... Send me your characters to cameo in Dethkomic. Because this time around, these idiots could use all the help they can get.

It's the last-hurrah of Dethkomic. The final five issues. Endgame. Show's over. Curtain call.

So let's make it extra special by inviting as many OCs/self-inserts as we can, hey?

DISCLAIMER: If you've had an OC in the comics previously, you don't need to ask me to include them. They're already involved. As a thank you for sticking with me over the last 3 years, 8 issues, and 200+ pages, they'll be a little more involved than newcomers, but I still want to give any new people lending me their MTL children as much "screen time" as possible. That said...

An appearance is guaranteed for all who submit an application. Just one character per person, please! And you do the picking – don’t make me choose between multiples. I am terrible at that. :) Reference sheets with art are best, but I also take written descriptions, celebrity stand-ins, and that kind of stuff, too!

Feel free to give me an idea of anything they wouldn't do. There'll probably be ample crowd shots but if there aren't too many, I like to give these supporting roles at least a line of dialogue or some active involvement that's on-character.

And that's it! Send me a note on here and you're in! Please note that I have the right to refuse a character for any reason, but if you're not trolling, you'll probably get in.

Cheers! And I look forward to updating the comic in the coming weeks!

#dethkomic #mtl #metalocalypse #dethklok

84 notes · View notes

stellar-haikyuu · 17 hours ago

Text

start somewhere ☆ nishinoya yuu x reader

synopsis: second-year reader sometimes feels like their physical education class is out to get them. but maybe, their classmate might help turn things around. details: mild hurt/comfort | romantic/platonic relationship | 1,678 words | gn! reader | my entry for @phantasmaebg warnings: this is based on my insecurities related to exercise and sports back in high school, so please be cautious if it’s sensitive for you!

Physical education could be fun at times, but if there was one thing you dreaded every period, it was the warm-ups.

They were necessary, sure. You’d heard all the reasons: injury prevention, elevated body temperature, mental prep—the whole spiel.

The problem was that your physical education teacher seemed to enjoy torturing your class. Or maybe it was just you.

It always started the same way: some stretching and light jogging that lulled you into a false sense of security. But then came the dreaded laps. Ten relentless minutes of running around the court.

It also sucked that for this school year, physical education happened to be your first period—the prime time of your lethargy.

You at least had the foresight to fuel yourself with breakfast, but it still felt like an entire day had passed by the time 9:00 AM rolled around.

And now, at 8:00 AM, your class is walking to the school gym, chattering normally as if your impending doom wasn’t looming ahead.

You sigh to yourself when your teacher waves at all of you, far too cheerfully.

“Alright, you know the drill. We’ll be practicing handball again before our practical exam in two weeks. But first, our warm-up laps.” She grins before continuing. “Remember, if I reach the last person and touch their shoulder, one additional lap!”

As always, the class groans in unison. You avoid making eye contact with anyone.

You’ve always wondered if anyone was secretly annoyed by how slow you run; it’s just a miracle that you’ve managed to avoid adding any extra laps so far.

Everyone lines up their water bottles against the wall, proceeding to do some stretching and jogging in place. You follow suit, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

Eventually, your classmates situate themselves behind the makeshift starting line: a long strip of masking tape on the hardwood floor. You drag your feet, trying to position yourself somewhere in the middle, a little closer to the front.

The sound of the whistle blows, and everyone starts running.

Despite the “head start” you give yourself, you’re reminded of why your attempts are always futile.

One by one, your peers start to pass you by the halfway mark. By the time you’ve completed one lap, you’re dead last. Again.

Your lungs start to burn, your breath turning ragged. The sharp and constant inhale-exhale rhythm makes your throat dry.

Internally, you scream at yourself to keep going, noticing the gap between you and the classmates in front of you starting to make itself clear.

You survive three laps before your teacher yells, “Let’s go, guys! Keep it up!” And at this point, you think she must be a sadist as she picks up the pace.

By now, your heartbeat pounds wildly in your ears, drowning out everything else. You lose count of the laps, just desperate for it to end.

A small pain also starts to stab you in the side. How unfortunate it is to get a stitch now, of all times.

“I’m almost there!” When you look behind you, your PE teacher is just a few feet away, laughing as the other students yell in protest. “Finish the lap! Come on!”

Cursing internally, you grit your teeth and keep running.

You will not be the reason your classmates will be inconvenienced.

You can’t, even if you feel like you’re going to drop to the ground any second now.

Though the starting line felt impossibly far, you managed to step over the tape through sheer willpower.

Cheers erupt from the class. You’re not sure if they’re celebrating the end of the warm-up or your miraculous escape. You’re too exhausted to care.

Whatever it is, it’s over.

“Good job, everyone! You survived.” Your teacher announces. “Now, take a little break, I’ll just call the staff to help get the rest of the equipment.”

You barely register the rest of her words. At last, the agony for the week is over.

The world spins for a while as you wait for your heartbeat to slow down. All you can do is collapse onto the floor, breathing heavily.

A dry itch rises in your throat and you cough to relieve it. However, you hold yourself back from overdoing it—you’d prefer if your stomach’s contents don’t make a reappearance.

Man, you hate this feeling.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The unfamiliar voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you. You blink, vision still a little spotty.

“Huh?” You breathe out, disoriented.

You vaguely see a hand extended toward you, and you take it. Your classmate helps you to your feet, guiding you to a nearby bench where you can sit down.

“Here.” He hands you your water bottle. You thank him before taking a long, long sip. Briefly, you wonder how he knew it was yours.

“I thought you passed out on the floor! Are you feeling dizzy or something?”

Putting your bottle down, you come face-to-face with Nishinoya Yuu.

Oh.

“Uh…” You’re a little overwhelmed by his concern, as no one usually bothers to ask. “Well, kinda, but I just need a breather. All that running is, um, a lot for me.”

You avoid his gaze.

Nishinoya was always behind or right next to your teacher. You remember how he’d ask for permission to run ahead, only to have his suggestion turned down every time.

You were in his direct line of sight these past few weeks.

What would he think of you?

“That’s alright.”

At his response, you freeze.

“What?”

“I said it’s alright,” he gives you a gentle smile, a contrast to his usual exuberance. “Running isn’t easy.”

You pause, unsure of what you could even say. He seems to notice your shift in mood.

“Is something wrong?” He tilts his head. “You feelin’ anything weird?”

“No, it’s not that.”

When you take a hesitant look at Nishinoya, there’s something about his expression that seems so…welcoming.

It feels like you could tell him anything.

“Then what is it?” His tone is laced a with genuine curiosity.

Just like that, you cave.

“I know I’m unfit,” you admit quietly, your eyes falling to the floor. “I know it’s not great for my health, and I’m trying my best. But it’s hard when… when everyone can see how far behind I am. I feel like they’re judging me.”

He doesn’t interrupt, patiently waiting for you to finish. You feel the weight of his stare as you continue.

“Maybe I’m just making excuses. Everyone else seems to be doing fine, it might just be me. And that probably sounds insulting to people like you.”

“People like me?” His voice softens as he moves a little closer to you.

“You play volleyball, right? I assumed that’s where all the bruises on your arms are from.” You gesture to them.

“Ah, yeah. You’re right.” He lightly brushes his arms, mottled with small purple and yellow marks. “But, what do you mean, insulting?”

“Well for one, you’re a school athlete,” you state. “You’re exempted from PE, yet you still-”

“Wait,” he cuts you off. “Exempted?”

“Yeah?” You turn to see him wearing a very perplexed expression.

“That’s a thing?”

A silence falls between the two of you.

Does he not…

You clear your throat. “You didn’t know?”

“I don’t actually know what exempted means?” He chuckles nervously.

You blink, momentarily stunned at the sudden turn in the conversation. “Um, it means that because you’re an athlete, you’re not required to participate in PE classes.”

“But why?” His disbelief is evident, like the idea of skipping PE is absolutely incredulous.

“Well, you already do a lot of training, don’t you?”

He nods. “Morning and late afternoon. But a short PE class doesn’t hurt, though.”

You stare at him, speechless. Wow.

“Anyway, that’s the rule I know of,” you reply. “They started it this year after the other sports teams complained.”

“Oh,” Nishinoya says blankly, trying to take it all in.

“You really had no idea?”

“Nope.” He scratches the back of his neck.

You nearly chuckle yourself at the absurdity of it all. “No wonder sensei looked so surprised when you asked to join PE. I thought she seemed hesitant when she let you in.”

“Yeah!” His eyes widen, as if he’s just pieced it together. “I thought it was weird that she kept double-checking, but I didn’t think much of it.”

There’s a brief pause before he grins at you. “Anyway, sorry, what were you saying earlier?”

It takes you a second to remember what he’s talking about. “Ah, right. Um. It’s just that I feel a little stupid making excuses when athletes like you do so much physical activity every day.”

“But you’re not an athlete?”

“Ah, yes, but-”

“Then no one expects you to train like me.” He frowns slightly. “Unless that’s what you want?”

Your breath hitches.

What do you want?

You swallow, shaking your head slowly. “No. I just…I just want to do well enough.”

“Well enough?”

“Just enough to stay active. Or maybe…enough to catch up to the rest.”

Nishinoya grows quiet for a moment, and you rush to explain.

“Sorry, I don’t really know the specifics-”

“Want me to help you out?”

You nearly give yourself whiplash as you look at him. “What? Help me?

“Yeah,” he says like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Wanna run in the morning together? Could help you with endurance. We’ll start slow, see what you can handle, and go from there.”

Your jaw drops at his offer.

“You want to…but wait, you have training and-”

“It's fine! I’m always happy to help anyone out!” He beams. “Plus, training is always more fun with a partner. What do you say?”

Warmth blooms in your chest.

“You’d really help me?”

“Of course!” He replies earnestly.

Would it be crazy to think Nishinoya was sent by the gods?

“You sure?” You lower your voice. “I don’t want to bother you over something that seems so simple.”

“Nah.” There’s a convincing glint in his eye that gives you hope. “Besides, we all start somewhere.”

masterlist

33 notes · View notes

inej-ruination-ghafa · 17 hours ago

Text

MAKING UP AND OUT - S.B

Warnings: none

Summary: the one where sirius black realises the mistake he has made and tries to make it up

Wordcount: 3.6k

The Gryffindor common room was a haven for the seventh years, especially at 11pm when it was empty and all of the marauders and their associates would gather and drink whilst playing silly muggle board games.

There was one sitting on the table in the middle of the seats and they were barely playing, talking over the game as they would occasionally flick a wand to roll the dice. There was something so nice about the mundane moments in life, where they could all just sit together and forget all of the horrors of life.

Laughter erupted from the group at some joke that Remus made. He was sitting on the edge of Marlene’s armchair and she pushed him off, watching as he stumbled back into the armchair that Alice and Mary were squeezed onto.

You and Peter were sitting on the sofa, your legs sprawled out over most of it, the boy curled into the feral position as he just watched the scene. Dorcas was sitting on the floor below him, knees tucked into her chest.

On the other side of the room was Sirius. He had just come downstairs after a study session and was standing by the staircase, leaning up against the banister as he admired the scene.

The only two missing from the group were Lily and James who were on their patrols as head girl and head boy and whilst it did feel weird for them to hang out without them, it was good for them to spend some time together alone.

“Yes! Yes!” James yelled as he ran through the door, his hands pumping the air as he looked at his friends. Remus stumbled off of the floor and walked over to his friend, placing his hands on his shoulders.

”What? What’s going on?” He asked.

Nobody could ignore the wide smile on his face and there was a moment of tension as they awaited his news, ”She said yes!”

There was a resounding gasp through the group, Dorcas jumping up off of the floor as they all realised that the moment they had all been waiting for had happened, “She did?”

“She said yes! Lily Evans is going on a date with me!” He jumped up in the air with a cheer and the room burst into applause.

After seven years of pining for the redhead girl that sat across from him in potions, he finally had her wrapped around his finger. They had all seen this coming and were all happier than ever for him. The room was flooded with congratulations and cheers as they marvelled at their friends ability to succeed at the long game.

You, on the other hand, sat there for a moment in silence. Lily was one of your closest friends and you were so happy that she had finally decided to go out with James, he was the perfect guy for her.

If only you could have the guy that you had been pining for. Sirius was still standing on the other side of the room, his eyes trained on you, and when you looked up, the two of you locked eyes. It was like he could see the turmoil inside of your soul, the way you were happy for her but at the same time, envious of the relationship.

”We all knew she’d say yes eventually,” Marlene said, leaning over the armchair as she pat James on the cheek, him laughing at her.

When you looked back at Sirius, he was still looking at you and you could feel your cheeks heating up at the intensity of his stare.

Last October, you and Sirius had hooked up and it had been the best night of your life. He had told you that he had feelings for you and that he was hoping that there was something there, that he had wanted to be more than friends for a while.

You could picture him now, his arms wrapped around your body, his bare chest pressed up against your back as you woke up surrounded by him after a drunken night at one of the parties by the black lake.

Two weeks later, he had decided that you should remain as friends because it would be too complicated if you were dating whilst you were all still friends. You agreed with him because it would have blown up the friend group if it didnt work out. Still, there was a feeling in your chest like you were falling in love with him every time you saw him.

He was still flirty, always making jokes about the two of you, or sitting next to you in the crowded rooms, legs pressed up against each other. There was something there stil, an undeniable spark but neither of you had addressed it. So now it was January and your heart hurt every time you saw him even talking to someone else.

So yeah, you were happy for Lily and James but a little piece of your heart shattered all over again as you wondered what could have happened between you and Sirius.

James had finished his shift patrolling the halls so came to join you guys in playing the game, squeezing between you and Peter on the sofa, a hand patting down on his best friends leg as they talked about the ideas for the date.

You looked over at Alice and Marlene, the two sharing a quick whisper, the latter squealing, before Alice cleared her throat, “Guess what else happened?”

“What?” You questioned, brows furrowed in confusion at the amount of announcements going on tonight.

“I told Frank I love him,” she announced.

There was a collective awe from all of the girls in the room and an appreciative nodding from the boys as they all listened to the story of how they were hanging out at Hogsmeade, cuddled up at a booth and then she just blurted it out.

”Merlin, that’s amazing,” Mary said, smiling at the interaction.

Marlene narrowed her eyes, “He said it back, right?”

Alice nodded enthusiastically, not wanting to give anyone the impression that it wasn’t mutual, “Of course, it was so perfect,”

there it was again. You could feel that little piece of your heart chipping away at yet another happy relationship that had occurred within the friendship group and how they were working out.

Every time you closed your eyes, you would see Sirius there at the party, his hand brushing the hair out of your face as he leaned down to kiss you, pulling you up to his face.

You could feel the tears burning behind your eyes as you thought about everything that the two of you could have had and how easily he had thrown it all away, like it meant absolutely nothing to him.

You knew that if you stuck around any longer, listening to Alice recount the story to them all, that you would burst into tears in front of all of your friends so you stood up, stepping over the beer bottles that littered the floor, and headed towards your stairs.

“Ill be back in a min, just going to grab my water bottle,” you said, informing Remus as he asked where you were going.

You walked towards the staircase and you cursed yourself for using that excuse because you knew that would mean having to get close to Sirius. You could smell his signature cologne within seconds, your head tilting up to give him a polite smile as you started to walk past him.

“Hey,” he reached out and grabbed onto your arm, stopping you from moving. It was a light grip but you understood that he wanted you to stay so you didn’t fight him, “Where you going?”

It was painful enough to be close to him but now, with his long fingers wrapped around your wrist, you could feel your body heating up, your eyes trailed up along the veins on his arms from where he had rolled his sleeves up, along the obvious muscle of his arms exposed by his tight shirt, past the two moles on his neck, along his strong prominent jaw.

Your face was heating up the more you looked at him and you averted your eyes before he could notice how flustered you had become, “I’m thirsty,”

You shook your arm out of his grasp and he watched as you rushed upstairs away a from him as fast as you possibly could.

You sat down on your bed, head collapsing in your hands at the humiliation of the whole situation because he must know that you still like him and there he was, taunting you like he always did.

A tear slipped down your cheek against your own will and you quickly wiped away. Merlin, this was so pathetic of you to be upset because some measly guy didnt like you back. You could ask out any guy in this castle and they might say yes but the issue is that you didn’t want just anyone, you wanted him. He was everything that you had ever wanted.

Sure, Sirius Black had a plethora of issues from his problems with his family to his avoidance of being in a relationship but you could care less about all of that because you knew that there was something between the two of you.

You took a deep breath and stood up, walking to the vanity on the other side of the room and looking at yourself. Your eyes were a little red and there was a small smudge of mascara on the apples of your cheek but you wiped it away and prepared to leave.

That’s when you spotted his face through the mirror. He was just standing at the door, looking at you with that intense stare.

“Your mama never taught you that staring is rude Black?” You said before turning around to face him, folding your arms across your chest

He hummed in response, a cocky look on his face, “Mum never taught me anything,”

You could feel your face heating up in embarrassment. You were so ready to spite him that you had forgotten the biggest issue he dealt with, “yeah, sorry,”

”I should be the one apologising,”

You scoffed, “For what?”

“The way I have been treating you since that night, for starters,” those were the words that you had been wanting to hear for weeks yet you were sitting here and they were rolling off of you like it didn’t matter.

“You shouldn’t apologise. You told me not to do it if I thought I’d get attached and look where we are now,” you shook your head because the words were the truth. You never should have done it because you knew you would fall for him.

You looked away from him, the embarassment creeping up on you again. Being this vulnerable with him used to be easy but there was something about having to admit your feelings for him knowing that he probably didn’t feel the same way that left a sickening feeling in your gut.

There was a beat of silence and Sirius pursed his lips together, trying to decide if he was making a mistake in what he was about to admit, “I think I was speaking for both of us,”

You hummed in response. That was not the reply that you had expected, “That so?”

there was something about this whole situation that felt icky, like he was lying to you. Maybe because he was, maybe because you were just scared that he was telling the truth and that was just the worst possible scenario.

”Yeah, I think I got a little attached too,” he replied.

You shook your head because there was no way that was how he had felt, “You were the one that said we should stop this,” you gestured between the two of you.

there was no word for whatever was going on between you, more than friends but less than lovers. Everyone always wanted this, to be friends first and then fall in love but the waiting was agonising. The constant questioning if they really felt the same way towards you was slowly tearing you apart and you wondered if Sirius could see it, the very fabric of your being being unthreaded by his words.

”I know that,” he responded. It was so monosyllabic, like he didn’t even care.

There was something about his tone that caused the blood to boil in your veins, like he was so nonchalant about his feelings.

“You were the one that told me that you weren’t sure if you had feelings for me?” The words were starting to get agressive, all of that anger that had been kept inside of your chest finally coming out.

“I know that,” you scoffed again at the nonchalant tone to his voice.

You brushed a hand over your face, the frustration obvious now, “Okay. So why are we dragging this out again? It hurt enough to get over it the first time,” you asked.

Sirius rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet, a habit you had noticed after all of the years of knowing him. You knew him better than most people do, more than anyone. You could pinpoint the moles on his body, number the freckles on his face, tell people how he likes his coffee, the music he likes to listen to when nobody else is listening. There were parts of him he had only revealed to you so you knew he was nervous when he rocked back and forth on his feet.

“Because-“ he swallowed and you watched as he fiddled with the rings on his fingers, staring down at his hands. You waited for the rest of the sentence but you were getting annoyed, “-because I’m not quite over it either,”

”Shut up,” you spat the words out with a venom that had never been directed at Sirius.

You didn’t even have time to be shocked at his confession because you were sure that it was a lie, that he was teasing you for some sick, masochistic reason. There was no way that he felt the same way about you.

This. This whole situation had been caused by im being scared to get into a relationship with you and now he was here trying to retcon it. You were not having any of it.

the only thing you could think to do was leave before the tears that were burning behind your eyes spilled over and you embarrassed yourself in front of him even more. So you tried to storm past him, shoulder bumping into his. He grabbed onto your arm, his grip firm but gentle.

You weren’t having it. You pulled your arm out of his grip and he let go quickly, “Don’t,” you spat out, giving him a glare that was normally reserved for irritating Slytherins.

He muttered your name in the way he always does, voice low and sexy. It made chills go up your spine, even if you didn’t want to feel that way about him.

You shook your head, ignoring the way he said your name, “Do not do this to me,”

“Do what?” His brows were furrowed and his eyes narrowed like he didn’t know the effect he had on you.

“Make me think you love me! You’re driving me crazy!” Your words were loud as you looked at him, eyes wide.

You had felt crazy from the moment that you had kissed him, like a puzzle piece had finally been clicked into place and then immediately knocked away. You had been overthinking every little thing that he did and you couldn’t do it anymore.

The eye contact between you and Sirius was intense and you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from him. There was something pulling you two together, like a magnet. You had to get away so you brushed past him but this time he didn’t grab onto you to stop you.

“I’m so worried that I am falling in love with you and that is why I have been pushing you away,” the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he even had a moment to think about the consequences.

You froze on the spot, eyes widening as you realised what he had said. There was no way that the man thaat you were falling for had just admitted the same thing to you, it wasn’t plausible.

Slowly, you spun around on your heel to look at him and you saw him standing there in the middle of the room, eyes wide like a puppy. The second you had stormed off, he had panicked and admitted what he had been holding in for weeks, he was trying to make you stay.

”If this is some joke, I will kill you,” you said, trying to hide the way your lip wobbled as you held back tears.

He nodded, giving you a sympathetic smile, “Reasonable,”

“What isn’t reasonable is why you’ve been playing with my emotions for months,” you weren't going to let him off so easy. You had felt like shit for so long and one admission of love was never going to be enough to make you come back to his side.

He gave you a look like he felt guilty about the way he had treated you, and you were sure it was genuine. You just weren’t sure how easily you were going to get over it.

You thought back to the way that you would lie in your bed, a numb feeling in your chest as you played over moments that the two of you had shared, trying to understand where it went wrong.

Sirius gave you a look like he understood that he had made a mistake, “I've needed some time to figure out how i feel,”

“And you couldn’t have communicated that to me?” You asked.

“I needed some time,” he replied, like it would change everything you had gone through.

”Okay-” you folded your arms over your chest. You knew you would forgive him for it all, because your love was stronger than that. Still, you wanted to see what lengths he would go to in order to make it up to you, “So what are you gonna do about it now,”

there was a teasing tone to your words and he smiled to himself. The tension eased up between you and that great divide between you seemed to shrink with every step that he took towards you.

When he stood in front of you, towering over you like he always did, you could feel your heart racing. For the first time in months, you didn’t feel like that idiot that had been played by Sirius Black.

There were butterflies in your stomach as you looked up at him, his eyes baring into yours. It was like the first time you had kissed, standing outside of the Black Lake, his focus unwavering.

He hesitated for a second, almost like he was nervous. Then, he reached up and cupped your face in his hands, holding you so gently like you were porcelain that could break at any wrong move, “I’m gonna kiss you, and I’m gonna take you on a date and I am going to make this right,”

You hummed in response, trying to keep your composure but you were definitely a little bit flustered at how close he was to you, “You still have a lot of grovelling to do Black,”

“I know baby,” the nickname made your cheeks heat up even more, his voice low and sultry, “But will you give me a second chance,”

You sighed, trying to hide the smile that was creeping out from your mouth, “Of course,” you said, leaning in to close the gap between the two of you, capturing his lips in yours.

The whole world slowed as you kissed him, it was gentle at first, just a press of your lips. As he got more desperate, the kiss became more forceful, his tongue slipping between your lips.

Your hands came up to his shoulders, gripping onto the fabric there. Your heart was racing a million miles a minute and it felt like you were flying.

When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours and smiled to himself, “Thank you, for giving me a second chance,”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, the red flush spreading across his cheeks. You leaned in and pressed your lips against his quickly in a chaste kiss, “Don’t screw it up,”

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered before kissing you again. He wasn’t going to mess it up, ever.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fancast #ben barnes sirius black #sirius black ben barnes #sirius black fanfiction #sirius orion black #sirius black x you #sirius black #ben barnes #mauraders fanfiction #mauraders fanfic #mauraders era #mauraders x reader #mauraders #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter marauders

47 notes · View notes

mulders-too-large-shirt · 11 hours ago

Text

s6 episode 6 thoughts

a christmas episode!! and i shall be watching it exactly one month after christmas. this does make me a little sad; i wish i could travel back in time with what i know now and watch it then. and then maybe i’d feel all festive. but! what can you do? i shall embrace it even though there stands between me and christmas 11 months.

i haven’t watched an episode in a week-ish, so i’m excited to get back into the swing of things. let’s gooo!!

post-episode thoughts: oh my god, this episode was incredible. what if we (platonically) went to the house where two lovers famously kill other lovers each christmas? and then those ghosts tormented us with our deepest insecurities? and when they tried to trick us into killing each other, our love was simply too strong and we wouldn't fall for it? would that be festive? would you hold my hand when we walked across the rickety floorboards and found our own bodies beneath them?

love... it's alive, and well. or, in some cases, dead and well <3

PLEASE tell me what you thought of this episode. i want to go into depth on each line and do intense character analysis.

but back to past me:

well, why are they in a haunted house in maryland on christmas eve?? is kersh punishing them with a christmas assignment?

(the answer is no. it was all mulder. honestly, i should have expected that by now)

let us open with some spoooooky organ music. while mulder has christmas songs on in the car!

scully pulls in late!! she was in the checkout line, buying gifts!! “if i heard silent night one more time, i was going to start taking hostages” <- lmaoooo, i love her!!!!! she is so real for that. she truly has endured so much.

he brought her here for a stakeout?! “on christmas eve.” “it’s an important date” “no kidding” <- BAHAHA, i love when she’s a smartass. now, why are they doing this!!!

she has wrapping to do!!! he looks in her car and sees she has gifts. and he sadly says "oh...." but she acquiesces and gets in his car to hear this spooky story

SHE’S GOT HOLIDAY CHEER TO SPREAD, DAMNIT!!

(this line KILLED me. seems she does NOT play when it comes to the holiday season!)

she has FAMILY ROLL CALL at 6 am?!?! oh. god bless her poor soul.

he locks the car before she can get out and says he’ll make it fast, bahaha (loud scully sigh)

he starts talking about christmas 1917, and did he mention it was a time of “dark, dark despair?” well, it was.

oh, now she’s hooked on this story of star-crossed lovers. i heard the interest in that “go on”.

maurice was “brooding” and “heroic”, and he loved lyda, who had a “light that seemed to follow her wherever she went”; they ended their lives together so they would never be apart. and now, each christmas eve, they come back to haunt this spooky house in maryland.

AWWW, she compliments how he told the story, and says it’s a good one, but she does not believe it.

“you don’t believe in ghosts?!” “that surprises you?” <- STOP, SHE IS SO FUNNY, LMAOOOO

“well, yeah! i thought everybody believed in ghosts” ohhhh… okay. yeah, he would think that.

she has to go now, and he starts to enter the spooky house. she asks “don’t you have somewhere to be?” and to that i ask, oh, my poor, sweet scully, where would he go? to the vineyard? last time we saw his mom, he was tripping on K, accused her of having an affair, and then she slapped him and he left scully at her house. i hope they made up for that. but i haven’t seen or heard any indication either way.

she does not want to follow his ass in: “i’m not gonna do it. my new year’s resolution” <- bahaha, but where are her keys???

oooo, spooky thunder!! clocks chiming eerily!!! she just wants her keys, and he claims that he does not have them!! do we believe him?? hmm… jury’s still out on that one.

scully knows the weather said there is an 80% chance of rain!! maybe even a white christmas!! oh, but instead of letting her enjoy such a thing, the doors crash and lock them both inside!!!

(something about her wanting a white christmas made me emotional in a way i cannot quite articulate. she's kind of a romantic. and i love that for her <3)

(intro time) ooooo, sooo spOoOOoky!

oh, so just when i think we’ll never see it again, they DO hit us with the full intro!!!! chris carter, i am onto your tricks. but i much prefer the full intro. it feels so right.

back to this spooky mansion.

LET HER OUT!! he is not helping her escape and is instead telling her there is nothing to be afraid of because “ghosts are benevolent entities…. mostly”

hey man. that's not super reassuring.

she tries to check the time- and the clock strangely matches her watch, which is super weird for an abandoned old house- and then declares that she REALLY HAS TO GET HOME, when some sort of figure in white appears in a crack of thunder!!!

LMAOOOO, SHE IS JUST MONOLOGUING ABOUT HOW RIDICULOUS SOCIETY IS FOR EXPECTING GHOSTS TO BE REAL. i would have copied it down, but it just KEPT going and i kept laughing.

she admits to being afraid. and i love that. i love that her method for dealing with fear is to infodump. yeah. you tell ‘em, girl! tell them about the essence of humanity and the unconscious yearnings to live forever!!

but it’s an IRRATIONAL fear, she points out! i would be afraid, too! of spooky ghosts AND rabid bats, rotting wood, lead paint, and other dangers of creepy abandoned buildings!

she goes ahead to investigate this other room, and he says “i’ve got your back” bahaha

she asks if maybe someone lives here, because look!! the light is on in the library!! they have a LIBRARY?? woah, i don’t even know what this room is- it's got bookshelves on the walls, but almost looks like a ballroom on the floor- but it sure is cool!!

so the clock downstairs is somehow still keeping time which is super weird for an abandoned old building, and something is… smoking, it looks like? yeah, maybe it isn’t abandoned. hmm…

it’s the fireplace- it was just put out! “why would anyone want to live in a cursed house?” “mulder, it’s not enough for it to be haunted? it has to be cursed?” LMAOOO

oh, he just now CASUALLY drops that there have been 3 double murders (all of couples) in the last 80 years, and all of them were on christmas eve. GET TF OUT OF THERE!!! this seems like RELEVANT INFORMATION THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MENTIONED BEFORE YOU BROUGHT YOUR PARTNER INTO THIS DEATH TRAP!!

and then the lights go out!! and a door slams!!! and there is some weird sound and creaking floorboards…. they’re locked in!!

he’s trying to listen to the floor….

AWWW, HE SCARED HER!!!! he held the flashlight under his face and she yelled “that’s NOT funny!” <- you tell him!!

he wants to free someone from beneath the floor boards? how did he hear someone beneath the floor? but it’s just a dead body. so i guess he was half right, as he declares. looks super dead. as in dead for a very long time. oh, and there’s another!!

a man and a woman!! shot to death. and she has bright red hair. coincidence….?

well, must be not, because scully points out that the dead woman is WEARING HER OUTFIT.

(he laughs) “how embarrassing” <- LMAOOO, NOW YOU STFUUUU!!!!!

(i'm so used to his dumbass one liners, but this one really killed me for some reason)

and at first i didn’t notice, because the dead guy had a winter coat on and mulder just had a leather jacket, but he is wearing his outfit!! they put together that it is somehow them, and they RUN!!

at first i thought it was the original couple that died, but how would they get under the floor? so maybe it actually is mulder and scully in some cosmic way. don’t question it too hard.

they ran into the same room!!! well, maybe if you have one stylish room, you just make it again. and again.

nooo!! the rooms are looping!! and they get separated somehow!!

i wish the lighting was better; i want to stare at these paintings on the walls. they look so pretty. i wonder if they built this creepy house just for this episode and decorated it all spooky, or if there’s a stock studio haunted mansion set that gets used for lots of shows and movies. the frames are so pretty!

but back to the problem at hand. where is scully?? he’s yelling, but she’s not responding!!

he shoots th,e handle of the door and opens it to a brick wall???

A MAN APPEARS!! “who are you?” “that’s a question i should be asking you, being this is my house you’re standing in” <- GET HIS ASS!!

perhaps they shall finally face consequences for breaking and entering.

mysterious man flicks on the lights.

mysterious man seems to be unable to tell that the door leads straight to a brick wall, or perhaps mulder is somehow seeing that. mulder says “we”, tipping off the man that there is someone else here. but mulder goes straight to accusing him of being a ghost! a bold move…

mystery guy laughs and asks mulder if he’s a ghost hunter, saying a lot of strange folks come around. he tries to deflect with a “strange folks? like those under the floor-“ but when he turns around, there is nothing there apart from some furniture!!

you know shit is going down when the mystery old man says “why don’t you have a seat, son”

oh plot twist, mystery man reveals he is in the field of mental health and specializes in “disorders and manias related to pathological behavior as it pertains to the paranormal”. okay, yeah, now i definitely believe that this dude is a real ghost and he is just doing all this to personally torture mulder.

the type of ghost hunter this mystery man encounters, and therefore he also he believes mulder to be, is as follows: a “narcissistic, overzealous, self-righteous egomaniac”; “you kindly think of yourself as single-minded, but you’re prone to obsessive compulsiveness, workaholism, antisocialism- fertile fields for the descent into total wacko breakdown” BAHAHAHA

well. yes!

while i do support generally roasting mulder for his various qualities, i also need to know where scully is.

“you know why you think you’ve seen the things you do?” “because… i have seen them?” okay, sassy!

“‘cause you’re a lonely man” <- OH DAMN. that shut him up.

mystery man is really being mean now… OH SHIT, did mulder steal scully's car keys to get her to stick around with him??? i hope that isn't true, but knowing him, it probably is, and that behavior seems to match some of those adjectives that were tossed about moments before

“you know why you do it- listen endlessly to her droning rationalizations. ‘cause you’re afraid. afraid of the loneliness” <- oh man. now you’ve got him sad and pondering. he looks like he’s gonna cry, but he’s gonna try and be tough about it and smile. and say politely that he would like to find his partner.

(and i would like to contemplate these lines- do we think they are true? or do we think mystery man just wanted to hit him where it hurts? "droning rationalizations" is pretty harsh; seeing scully as nothing more than a beacon against being alone doesn't seem to capture their dynamic accurately, unless you interpret it in the most selfish light possible, which is probably what that mean inner voice of mulder's head does. hmm...)

and now the brick wall behind the door is gone and mystery man can just walk through…. but mulder cannot!!! it is just a real brick wall!! and he slams his beautiful nose!!!

so... did he imagine all of that???

scully is still yelling for him!!

NOOOOO, SCULLY GETS SO SCARED AND SCREAMS AND PULLS OUT HER GUN WHEN THIS LADY APPEARS LMAOOOOO she’s absolutely SHAKING “please, i’m a little on edge” <- yeah queen, we can tell 💜

ohhh, poor sweet scully, apologizing for scaring this lady; it’s just that they found bodies! and when she tries to show her where the bodies are… there is only furniture!!

she very rarely gets scared. must have been the combo of spookiness on a night she associated with being cozy and warm. and also seeing what she does not believe in. AND being separated from mulder. truly multiple things factoring into her fear here.

scully has her gun aimed at this mystery woman, and her hands are shaking as she asks “where’s my partner?” - and when she goes to open the door, there is also! just! a! brick! wall!

how can this keep happening?!

she circling the mystery woman, holding her gun, and i guess we’re getting some psychoanalysis on both ends of this brick wall:

“oh, you poor child. you must have an awful small life. spending your christmas eve with him, running around chasing things you don’t even believe in” oh, wow... that is so mean.........

LMAO, mystery woman is going on about the “subconscious desire to find fulfillment through another” and “intimacy through co-dependency” (which. okay. yeah, that one is accurate) and scully's dirty little secret that “your only joy in life is proving him wrong”.

but unlike mulder, who was taking this analysis sitting down, she seems scared, but still spits out “you don’t know me!" i LOVE that about her!! truly!!!

“and this isn’t your house” “you wouldn’t think so, the way i’m being treated” DAMN! these ghosts are gagging them 💀💀💀

“well, then, why is all of the furniture covered?” “we’re having the house painted” “well, then where’s your christmas tree?” “we’re jewish” LMAOOO

enter mystery man!!!! scully is telling him to NOT MOVE or she WILL SHOOT HIM!!!! she needs to know WHERE MULDER IS!! and these ghosts better MOVE OVER THERE!!!!!!!

“this violates our civil rights!! i have friends at the ACLU!!” LMAOOOO

well, she makes them put their hands up, and mystery woman has a hole blown completely through her belly. so. not great. and his hat is hiding the bullet hole through his head!!!

i mean, it was pretty obvious that these here ghosts were lyda and maurice, but i wanted to go along with the mystery bit until the big reveal. and now i shall use their government names.

SCULLY!!! SHE PASSED OUT!!!! OHHHHH, POOR BABY

the ghosts are lamenting that they used to get years to drive the visitors mad, but now they get just ONE NIGHT!!! i would be pissed, too!!!

BAHAHA, WHAT? “look, if we let our reputations slip, they’re going to take us off the tourist literature” <- BAHAHAHA OH MY GOD. wait, hold on, that’s so fucking funny.

she picked christmas as their one night a year because that is when people have no HOPE LMAOOOO and maurice looks down and says “these two do seem pretty miserable”

they smooch over poor scully’s fainted body as they declare they must show them how lonely christmas can be!!

mulder is climbing up the bookshelves, trying to get tf out of this trap room, when lyda arrives!! she calls him a “masher” (i don’t know what this means, so i hope it is not offensive) and he fires back with “frump”, only to be met by ANOTHER brick wall

(dictionary.com says that a masher is "a man who makes advances, especially to women he does not know, with a view to physical intimacy". so now we know! she accused him of hitting on her!)

“what happened to the star crossed lovers?” “oh, let me tell you, the romance is the first thing to go” <- that is a CRAZY thing to say about the guy you ended your life with 💀💀

he realizes that she is lyda, and the man is maurice!!

she summons books from the shelves!! and says she was young and beautiful once, just like your partner. she hands him a book telling their story. so i guess you can still age in the afterlife. who knew?

she’s sitting down and he’s standing in front of her, but the focus gets all fuzzy and weird when the camera turns to him. i can’t tell if this came from reshoots or what, but lyda is crisp and clear and he is not 💀

she assumes they came here “to be together for eternity”, which gets him giggling

“you knew this house was haunted, maybe you two should have discussed your real feelings before you came out here” OHH! SHE IS GOING THERE!!

taunt him. he just confessed his love a few episodes ago!!! do not think i forgot!!

and lyda shows him the hole in her CHEST??? i swear it was just in her belly with scully. “i don’t show my hole to just anyone” is INSANE, LMAOOO

“oh, you’re trying to tell me that scully’s going to shoot me. scully is NOT going to shoot me” AWWW, i love the certainty with which he said that

“maybe she shoots herself” “i wouldn’t let her” ohhhh…. he is so confident… but trickery is afoot, so who knows??

(also, i think lyda's line, “if you shoot first, for her, the rest is an act of faith” is a very fascinating one. one i want to unpack for years to come. but i do not have the capacity to do it now, so i am simply noting it)

OH MY GOD??? she’s trying to tell him to end their lives together???

(he sighs) “we’re not lovers”

“and this isn’t a pure science. but you’re both so attractive, and there will be a lot of time to work that out.” (she hands him the gun) “think of it as the last christmas you’ll spend alone”

she drops the gun and disappears

so, do lyda and maurice need people (couples, specifically) to either kill themselves or be killed in order to maintain their spooky reputation? and maybe their spooky power? maybe since they haven’t had a couple’s death in a long time, that is why they can only haunt people on christmas? like, they only have enough spectral energy from the blood sacrifices to show up one day a year? i’m trying to flesh this out here.

scully wakes up!!! she’s alone with her gun and flashlight, and she still can’t get the door open!! when maurice reappears!!

“i am quite capable of pulling this trigger”, she warns him, and we know that to be very true!!

OH NO!!! i see where this is going… maurice is going to try and convince her that mulder wants to kill her… so she will shoot him first, and then they can be together forever or something…

she says that it is all just a bad dream, and it’s in her head, but. well. here she is. interesting rationalization on her part. i would have expected her to pull the folie a deux card.

maurice hands her the car keys, saying that mulder is acting out "an unconscious yearning from the deep-seated terror of being alone” <- so would that make him a threat? does he genuinely want to convince her that mulder is going to kill her so they can always be together?

mulder’s pounding on the door and yelling for her. she takes the keys and tells maurice to open the door. she has her gun trained on him….

she doesn’t believe him that mulder wants to kill her!!!!

mulder opens the door… and asks where scully is… AND HE SHOOTS???????

WHAT!!!!

okay, but he’s not shooting HER!!! he's shooting nearby though, so please be careful. she’s scared!!!

why is he being crazy!!! look at that physical acting!! he's deranged!! he says all that is out there is loneliness!!! AND THEN HE SHOOTS HER FOR REAL????

she falls over as she bleeds into her white blouse…. he stands over her, saying “merry christmas, scully”

but!!! it was really lyda that took his shape to shoot her!!!!

so he didn’t REALLY do any of that???? but scully thinks he did!

he runs in, finds her bleeding out on the floor!!! “i didn’t believe that you’d do it”

OHHHH, but then it must not really be scully either, because as she is bleeding out, she shoots HIM!!!

but it was really just lyda and maurice playing around???

SO IS SCULLY HURT OR NOT????? JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!

scully is crawling away dying as "have yourself a merry little christmas" plays, and mulder is also crawling with a gaping stomach wound- or are they really the ghosts taking their forms? i don’t KNOW!!

they’re crawling toward each other, their blood and gore all over the floor, and here i ask: what the fuck is happening? mulder’s yelling after her, and they both have their guns pointed at each other.

she asks if he’s afraid, and she says she is, and he admits he is too; “i didn’t shoot you, you shot me!” so their stories diverge...

they’re rolling around in their blood and dying. hey guys. merry christmas.

but then he gets up, and says she’s not been shot, and neither has he!!! it was all a trick!!!!

they run outside, and there is no blood on them at all!!! they get into their cars and drive away!!!!

so, were they in pain like they WERE shot? did they feel like they were dying? or did mulder realize that it was weird he was in no pain despite being shot and then got up and defeated their ghostly tricks?

lyda and maurice lament how they almost had those two, and how christmas is another joyless day of the year- but not for them. “no, we haven’t forgotten the meaning of christmas”; they hold hands and then fade away

STOP! they’re making me sad!!!!

mulder’s at home, watching a christmas carol alone. and it seems to be his usual couch he has back, so i wonder if he managed to restore all of his things after the morris redecorating incident!!! he looks so sad, though!!!

there’s a knocking at his door…. he is suspicious…. it’s scully!!! she couldn’t sleep!!! oh, she asks to come in- she must be so nervous!! she never asks to come in!!! he grabs her by the shoulder

he poses a great question: “aren’t you supposed to be opening christmas gifts with your family?” (she did mention it around a billion times)

“mulder… none of that really happened out there tonight. that was all in our heads, right?” <- ohhh… what do you say to this… a proposed collective hallucination??

he waits a second. “it-it must have been”

(this, too, is FASCINATING. he never agrees with her rationalizations! why does he do it now? does he want her to have some peace for the holidays? i suppose a collective hallucination is less concerning than upending your entire belief system, but not by much!)

they’re both sleep deprived and mumbling about the ghosts poking at their biggest insecurities:

“not that, uh, my only joy in life is proving you wrong”

“when have you proved me wrong?”

“well, why else would you want me out there with you?”

“you didn’t want to be there? oh, that’s um, that’s self-righteous and… narcissistic of me to say, isn’t it?”

“no… maybe i did want to be out there with you”

AWWW, they have no idea wtf is going on, but look at the way he is LOOKING at her as she nearly falls asleep standing up, OH!!! i could cry!!!

they said they wouldn’t exchange gifts, but he has something for her!!! when did they say they wouldn’t do that?!! and he broke that promise anyway!!! look at his big stupid smile!!! look at her face when she sees it!!!!

and she has something for him too!!! and they run to the couch and open each other's gifts! but we don’t get to see what they are!!!

and as the camera pulls away, we see snow falling out of the window!!!

OHHH, MY HEART!!!!

man…

lyda and maurice might actually be the ideal relationship. because i want to haunt people romantically forever. that is so beautiful.

oh, how did we manage to get such excellent character analysis AND silly fluff in one episode??? i feel like i’m going crazy!!!

okay, my biggest question: did he really take her keys??? no one says it outright or not!! it’s implied, but not confirmed either way!! if he did take her keys, that is not a point in his favor. but it would speak to the character flaws maurice accused him of having, in a drastically oversimplified sense. did he steal her keys and make her come out there so he wouldn't be alone on christmas? how can someone be so selfless and selfish?

hold on, i need to watch them open the gifts again… he’s shaking it around, trying to figure out what it is!!! and she’s laughing as she tries to pop it open!!!

ohhh my GOD. i need to go take a nap…….

they’re not lonely!!! they have each other!!! and even the ghosts tease them about having feelings they aren't admitting!!!

scully was completely ready to just die on that floor, LMAO

oh, she was so scared!! but she still meant business! she was going to have those ghosts stand against the wall and lift their hands, even if that meant she was going to faint!!

(when faced with people with holes in their body, usually she would not faint, but alas. she is used to this on dead people and dead people alone)

there are definitely some thing in this episode i am still trying to work out logic-wise (was lyda shot in her stomach or her chest? did she change where she was shot to mess with each of them? was lyda pretending to be scully for like, the whole thing after they first met? so how much did they actually experience in their own bodies? and therefore, it was the ghosts that were shooting them, not scully and mulder shooting at each other- but they both ended up fake shot in the end, and then the ghosts hoped that if they have them real guns, they would finish the job- right? how can we analyze the different strategies the ghosts used on each of them to convince them to shoot the other- telling scully that mulder is a danger to her, and telling mulder that if he does this, he will never be alone? is that a foreplay thing for lyda and maurice?)

but overall, i got the gist of it and enjoyed it very much. i think there will be plenty to turn around in my head and analyze for many moons to come.

and i might sound like a rabid MSR truther, but i would very much like to think that they fell asleep on his stupid little couch after exchanging presents and felt each other breathe for a bit to make up for their exhausting evening before scully left to go deal with her family.

she needed to talk to him first before she did all of that family stuff… she was so bothered by it… and the way he just agreed with her that it was probably all in their heads… is he doing that to try and reassure her everything is okay, or is he agreeing because he doesn’t want to think there is any meaning to it???

GOD! i need to turn this one around in my brain for a bit.

the set was also super cool. i wanted to pause and look at stuff!!!

i am very pleased. i would have been likely even more so pleased had i watched this a month ago, but now i can go back and watch it every christmas as i desire! definitely a nice change of pace from the previous christmas episodes that shall not be spoken of in this post.

but it was a very good episode, even if i am trying to crack the specific character implications (which will continue at length in the tags). some of y'all have had 25 years to do a deep dive into every line, reflect on how the characters see themselves vs who they truly are, and so on, but given that i have had 1 day, i have a lot of catching up to do!

(i would be interested in reading an analysis on this episode, or many other episodes, but those analysis posts tend to always have spoilers in them for things that happen down the road. so i shan't)

oh, scared, shaking scully, starting out apologizing for spooking lyda, then waving her gun around until they did what she said so she could find her mulder…. lifting up maurice’s hat and then passing tf out… rambling all about human nature and irrational fears as she was spooked by the scary old house… refusing to believe mulder would hurt her, and then having to confront the vision of him doing so... UGH!!!!! i just cannot TAKE IT!!! i hope they had the merriest christmas ever after this!!

it looked like she got him a video tape?? maybe a book? but it looked more like a tape to me. and what did he get her in that tube!! a poster of some sort, maybe?? i can’t think of many things that come in tubes. maybe he got her a nice print for her apartment walls. she loves her prints.

tonight, i shall dream beautiful dreams of being a ghost with the one you love forever and making sure that you keep your scary reputation, lest the tourists stop visiting you.

#still turning things over in my mind regarding the character analysis provided by the ghosts who torture them #i mean you could see their takes as accurate if you were committed to interpreting their characters as negatively as possible #which makes sense if you consider the ghosts saying out loud what their deepest fears tell them they are #but still they don't make entire sense #like scully's only joy in life being proving him wrong just seems blatantly false even if it is a funny idea #lyda got her ass though with the whole intimacy through codependency thing. no lies were told there.#interesting that mulder seems incredibly aware that the things he does and the way he acts make him seem like a self-righteous egomaniac #and we know that scully also sees him as such thanks to the conversation on the rock #but it's like he cannot stop doing it because it's just the way he is. what does that say about a person?#much to consider. and consider it i shall.#juni's x files liveblog #6x06 #the x files #txf

21 notes · View notes

deus-ex-mona · 1 month ago

Text

youtube

merry crisis guys!!!!

#‘it isnt christmas yet’ ‘it has been christmas for h o u r s ur late’ sshhhh my timezone is law ok~~~#cheers to the last week of the year~~~~~~~~~#sometimes i forget that it’s supposed to be a christian holiday though… i remember going to church for the ‘mas exactly once #it was boring :( i didnt even get the little bread biscuit thing :( i’ve always wanted to try it tbh #only bc it sounds crisp when people bite into it. i wonder if it has the same texture as like potato chips or sth #or like those ‘toasted bread chips’ that occasionally pop up in the stores… i like the cheese bread variations #or maybe it’s crisp at first bite then turns soggy (like those potato wheel crackers) m a n. do i hate those potato crackers.#they’re all salt; no substance. the dried and fried onion crackers are 100000000 times better #ngl i had no idea what those onion crackers were called for. like. 90% of my life so i called them ‘suntanned keropok’#only bc my mother used to dry them out under the sun on bright days (or in the toaster when she got lazy) before frying them #since frying them straight away without drying made them super hard instead of light and crispy..#man i kinda want onion crackers now… the slightly over-browned ones were the best~~~~~#anyways!!!! free holiday!!!!!!! no work!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i’ll try to get ch36 of idol sengen up later~~~~~~~ i was gonna do part of it earlier but then i took 3 hours to finish my dinner sobs #not making any concrete promises though~~~~~~~~ all i want for crisisssss is asunaaaaaaaa #(asuna and… onion crackers… that is… aha~~~~ keropok bawang loml…)

3 notes · View notes

isame-allen · 27 days ago

Text

Happy new year y’alls :D

It’s the year of the snake so enjoy snake ink!

#happy new year :D)))#dreamswap #ds ink #tw slight blood #isaacballz #scheduled post #yea so that means ignore anything that seems off pls 😞. 17/12 allen sees this as an alright finished product #This is like a tradition within my country and some others so don’t mind my whining and I felt weird I didn’t do #this last new years but imma start by this year. I am sorry if I’ve offended anyone #I promise it wasn’t intentional and I have kinda matured I still am pretty immature but I swear I am trying my best.#Additionally I don’t remember some things I’ve posted I remember seeing a reblog that I didn’t remember rebloging #and the next day it was gone I’m pretty sure no one took my devices nor my account is hacked #I’m not saying this as an excuse for anything offensive #I may have said to anyone I’m just stating this as I have some assumptions on my memory #Besides that I really do appreciate everyone who had been patient and supportive with me #ik I’ve said this like last week (I think?) but I #seriously cannot thank you enough. I hope everyone is doing well don’t forget to eat and stay hydrated and cheers to the new year! :D

16 notes · View notes

waugh-bao · 1 year ago

Text

(x)

#I didn’t agree with navalny’s politics/plans for Russia as much as I did someone like Nemtsov #but he was incredibly courageous and he stood up for good against a regime of pure evil #and even kept good cheer as he did it #I remember when I was just starting to learn Russian my first year at university. watching his videos to try to practice listening and see #the real news out of Russia #and the last time I actually went to Petersburg. seeing all the people I knew who were supporting the opposition underground. hoping this #would never happen #but we knew and he knew he was taking a a huge risk when he came back after that poisoning to be with his people #I really hope my friends who haven’t fled make it through the next days and weeks of arrests safely #and that we all live to see a free Russia one day #навальный #not the stones

15 notes · View notes

hypnowave · 1 year ago

Text

i think someone should come to my house and cast spell of explode on me. i am very nervous

#afhshdhdhdhshdjd what do you mean i leave in two weeks. girl what #spent the last 5 years saying i need to get out and yet the instant i get the opportunity to do so i can't stop freaking out about it #ohhhh my god . ohhhhhhhh my god #i'm sure it'll be fine but i'm jittery and anxious right now because i don't want to mess up #i've done this before i can do it again #cheers to going places where i'm not terrified of existing!#its just studying abroad oh my god why am i being so dramatic #jun.log

4 notes · View notes

againstacecilia · 2 years ago

Text

Me all day when someone asks how old I am:

#its honestly been going on in my head all week #cheers to the last year of my 20s #29 #ceci talks

4 notes · View notes

kirakirabug · 1 year ago

Text

My birthday was a few days ago so, I'm officially 18 now. I was also diagnosed with autism 😁.

#kirakirabug talks #just to update y'all on where I've been this past week or so #well. i was diagnosed with the autism in like 2019 but it wasn't really brought up until October last year so. y'know #i also took my first dose of vitamin d so uhh yeah cheers hope that goes well for me too #now i just gotta go through the process of getting my id

0 notes

mssalo · 4 months ago

Text

worship

Ignored and humiliated by your husband, you find yourself in Joel's arms-his best friend who's been silently craving you for far too long. One heated night pushes you both over the edge, and Joel isn't holding back. He's ready to give you what your husband never could: everything.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cheating, body worship, your husband treating you bad, Joel treating you good, oral (f receiving), kissing, (P in V), pinning, cumming Inside, breeding kink, Joel gets nasty with it, 10k

Part: 2

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The late afternoon sunlight filtered gently through the lace curtains, casting soft patterns across the dining table where you sat with Sarah, helping her with her homework. Your smile, though kind, felt heavy today. You leaned over the table, explaining a math problem to her with patience, even though your mind was clouded with thoughts of your husband.

It had been weeks—maybe months—since he’d been fully present. You had long suspected something was off, but now it was undeniable. He came home late, if at all, and when he did, his eyes never seemed to meet yours. You’d catch glimpses of texts on his phone, messages you weren’t supposed to see. You weren’t stupid. You knew.

But you’d spent so long being the perfect wife, the one who never caused trouble. He’d always introduced you as his “trophy,” an arm to show off at events, beautiful and polished. It was the role you’d filled for years, playing the part he wanted you to play. Smile, be perfect, don’t question. And you had been doing just that for far too long, even though inside you were crumbling.

You brushed a strand of hair from your face and forced a warm smile as Sarah struggled with her fractions.

You adored Joel’s daughter. She was smart, sweet, and had a lightness about her that made your heart ache with a longing for the family you never had. Sarah was only fourteen, but she had a way of reading people that made you think she saw right through you.

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” you encouraged her softly. “Just think of the numerator as the number on top and the denominator as the number on the bottom.”

Sarah gave you a soft smile, but it was clear she wasn’t fully focused. Her big, brown eyes studied you carefully, picking up on the sadness that lingered just beneath the surface of your cheerful demeanor.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice hesitant but filled with concern. “You seem… off today.”

Your heart sank a little at the realization that she noticed. You were supposed to be the adult here, the one keeping it all together, but it was getting harder to hide the cracks. You blinked back the tears threatening to well up, reaching over to give Sarah’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m okay, baby,” you whispered softly, trying to steady your voice. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Sarah looked at you for a moment longer, her brow furrowed as if she didn’t quite believe you, but she didn’t push it. She was too kind for that, too sweet. You wished your own husband had even a fraction of the empathy this girl had. Instead, he barely acknowledged your presence anymore, leaving you to feel like a ghost in your own home.

After Sarah finished her homework, you walked her to the door, sending her off with her usual hug. She hugged you back tightly, sensing more than you were letting on, but when you said goodbye, you assured her again that you were fine. She gave you one last concerned look before heading home.

After Sarah left, the silence in the house became overwhelming, filling every corner with the weight of your thoughts.

You leaned against the door for a moment, closing your eyes, fighting the urge to let the tears spill over. It was getting harder to keep up the facade. The loneliness, the sense of being unseen in your own marriage—it was suffocating.

You’d done everything you could to save the relationship, to bring back the warmth that had once existed between you and your husband, but there was nothing left.

With a deep breath, you pushed away from the door and headed to the kitchen, trying to busy yourself with anything that could distract you from the ache in your chest. But the sound of a knock at the door startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You weren’t expecting anyone.

When you opened it, Joel stood on your porch, concern etched into his rugged features. His broad shoulders seemed even larger framed by the doorway, his familiar Texas drawl cutting through the silence as he spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle but serious. “Sarah told me you weren’t doing too good today. Figured I’d come by and check on you.”

You blinked, surprised but not unwelcome to see him standing there. It took a moment for you to gather your thoughts, your heart catching in your throat at the sight of him. Joel had always been kind to you, always present in a way your husband wasn’t. He was a steady, comforting presence in your life, one you had grown to rely on more than you ever intended.

“I—I’m fine,” you stammered, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to worry her. It’s just been a long day.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he didn’t hesitate to step inside, closing the door behind him. He looked down at you with those dark, thoughtful eyes of his, reading you in ways you wished your husband still could. His gaze softened, but he didn’t buy your answer for a second.

“You don’t gotta put up a front with me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I can tell somethin’s been bothering you.”

It was those words—the way he said them with such understanding, such care—that made something in you break. You couldn’t hold it together any longer, not with Joel standing there, offering the kind of concern and kindness you hadn’t felt in so long. The tears you had been holding back began to well up again, this time falling before you could stop them.

Joel stepped forward, his hands settling gently on your arms.

“Hey, hey now… don’t cry,” he murmured softly. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

His words, so simple yet so full of warmth, only made the tears come faster. You wiped at your cheeks, embarrassed that you were falling apart like this in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to… it’s just… everything feels so wrong.”

Joel’s grip tightened slightly, a gesture of reassurance. He guided you over to the couch, sitting beside you as you tried to compose yourself. You leaned into him instinctively, finding comfort in the solid presence of his body next to yours. Joel had always had this way of making you feel safe, like you could let your guard down without fear of judgment.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly, his hand still resting on your arm, warm and steady.

You hesitated, the words heavy in your throat. You’d kept it all inside for so long, afraid to say it out loud, afraid that acknowledging it would make it all too real. But sitting there, with Joel looking at you like he genuinely cared, it all came tumbling out.

“He doesn’t care anymore, Joel,” you murmured, the words spilling from your lips, weighed down by the months of heartache you had been carrying. “It’s like I’m invisible to him. He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t even look at me… and I know he’s seeing someone else.”

The effect on Joel was immediate. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his face twitching as he tried to contain the anger that flared up inside him.

His eyes darkened, filling with a storm of emotions—disbelief, frustration, and something protective, primal. His hand, which had been resting gently on your arm, tightened its grip slightly, grounding you as he processed your words.

He stared at you for a long moment, his face a mix of shock and disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could treat you that way.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Joel muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice low and rough. “How could he—how could anyone—do that to you? To you of all people?”

He shook his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His voice softened, but the rough edges of his anger were still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“You deserve so much more than that. You deserve someone who sees you, who knows just how lucky they are to have you.”

Joel leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, urgent murmur as he continued.

“You’re kind, thoughtful… hell, you’re always puttin’ everyone else first. The way you care for Sarah like she’s your own, the way you keep your home so warm and welcoming, the way you’ve always been there for him… you’re so damn good, and he doesn’t even see it.” He shook his head again, the disbelief etched deep in his furrowed brow.

“How could he not see that? How could he throw that away?”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, filled with a mixture of admiration and frustration.

“It breaks my heart to see you treated like this. You deserve someone who cherishes you, who shows up for you, every day… who loves you for exactly who you are.”

His words hit you like a wave, each one wrapped in the raw sincerity and care that had always been so natural for Joel. You could see the anger and confusion in his eyes—he truly couldn’t understand how anyone could treat you as anything less than extraordinary.

You had been trying so hard to convince yourself that it was enough to be the perfect wife, to keep playing the role you had been assigned, but Joel’s kindness made you question all of it. His care, his attention—it was what you had been craving for so long, and now, here he was, offering it to you without asking for anything in return.

“But I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the weight of everything settled heavily on your shoulders. “I’ve tried so hard to make it work, to be what he wants, but nothing’s enough.”

Joel’s hand lifted to your face, gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his palm grounded you, the rough texture of his skin a stark contrast to the tenderness in his touch. He guided your face to meet his eyes, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“You don’t need to be what he wants,” Joel said, his voice low, almost a growl, roughened by emotion.

“You deserve to be seen, to be loved for who you are. Not just for what you can give someone else.”

His words hung in the air between you, wrapping around your heart, pulling at the deepest parts of you that had felt so neglected, so starved for this very thing—connection.

The space between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken emotions that had been simmering for far too long. It was as though every unexpressed feeling, every suppressed desire had built up into a moment that neither of you could stop.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the ache of loneliness and longing that had been gnawing at you for months. Joel had always been there, quietly, steadily, offering you the care your husband never could.

And now, sitting so close to him, his hand on your cheek, the warmth of his body radiating toward you, the pull between you was undeniable.

“Joel…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your gaze flickering between his deep brown eyes and his lips, so close, so tempting.

He didn’t move away. Instead, his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. His touch was tender, but his eyes were dark, filled with something deeper—something that had been quietly building between you for longer than either of you cared to admit.

“I’ll take care of you,” Joel whispered, his voice rough with the promise of protection, of something more. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

Your heart raced, torn between the vulnerability of the moment and the undeniable comfort of his words.

The way he spoke, the way he looked at you—it was everything you had been craving for so long. The tenderness you had missed, the feeling of being truly seen, appreciated, cared for. It was overwhelming. And yet…

Before you could fully process what was happening, Joel leaned in. His lips brushed against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. The world around you seemed to disappear, the only thing grounding you being the warmth of his lips and the steady strength of his hand still cradling your face.

The kiss was gentle at first, full of the tenderness and care you had longed for, but there was something else beneath it, something more intense, more primal, as if he had been holding back for too long and couldn’t anymore.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if needing something to hold on to, something solid in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

His kiss deepened slightly, his other hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer. It felt like everything you had wanted—someone who saw you, who cared for you, who wanted you.

But just as quickly as the warmth of the kiss had filled you, the weight of guilt crashed down like a tidal wave. You broke away, pulling back suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, breath coming in short gasps. You shook your head, stepping out of his reach, the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips, but your mind already spinning.

“I—” you stammered, the words barely forming as you backed away, your hands trembling. “I can’t… I’m sorry, Joel, I just… I can’t do this.”

The look on Joel’s face was one of hurt and confusion, but also understanding. He stood there, his arms falling to his sides as he watched you retreat.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice gentle, though the rough edge of his emotion was still there. “You don’t need to apologize.”

You took another step back, trying to steady yourself, your heart in your throat. “It’s not right,” you murmured, your voice trembling as you tried to rationalize everything that had just happened. “I can’t… I’m still married, and this… this is wrong.”

Joel didn’t argue. He didn’t push. He just watched you, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and a quiet sorrow.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt anymore,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “You deserve better than the way he treats you.”

His words hit you hard, but you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t face the reality of what had just happened, of what you had almost allowed yourself to feel. The guilt was too much, too overwhelming. You turned away, your hands still trembling as you moved toward the stairs, needing distance, needing space to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible as you left Joel standing alone in the living room. You hurried upstairs, your heart heavy, your mind racing, every step a reminder of the pull between you and Joel that you had just tried so desperately to resist.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you paused, your hand gripping the banister as you tried to steady your breath. You could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, the safety of his arms around you, and it terrified you.

Because for the first time in so long, you had felt something real, something you wanted. And yet, the weight of everything else—your marriage, your vows, the guilt—it was too much to bear.

You didn’t look back, but you could feel Joel’s presence downstairs, lingering in the quiet of the house. His words echoed in your mind, and despite everything, you knew deep down that what he had said was true: you deserved more. But admitting that meant facing the truth about everything you had been avoiding for so long.

And you weren’t ready for that.

· · ─────

The days following the kiss were thick with awkwardness and tension that hung between you and Joel like a fog neither of you knew how to clear. Every time you thought about it—his lips on yours, the tenderness in his touch, the way he had made you feel seen and wanted—your stomach twisted with guilt. But there was another feeling too, one that gnawed at you in the quiet moments when you were alone: longing. That kiss had stirred something deep inside you, something that had been buried for far too long, and now, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You longed for that feeling again—the safety, the warmth, the tenderness that had been absent from your life for so long. It made the distance between you and your husband feel even wider, the coldness in your marriage more unbearable. But despite how much you tried to shake it, that kiss was constantly on your mind.

Then came the day Joel came over to watch the football game with your husband. You knew it was coming—your husband had mentioned it in passing—but you weren’t prepared to see Joel again. The thought of being in the same room as him after what had happened made your heart race and your palms sweat.

When Joel arrived, you could hear his familiar knock on the door, followed by your husband’s slurred greeting. He had already been drinking, you noticed. You had hoped he would keep it under control, but knowing him, that was never a safe bet.

You opened the door and found Joel standing there, looking as calm and collected as ever. But the moment his eyes met yours, a wave of heat rushed to your face, your heart skipping in your chest. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but it was impossible to ignore the way the memory of that kiss flooded your senses all at once.

He shifted slightly, his hands slipping into his pockets, as if he was just as unsure of how to handle the tension between you. His gaze flickered over your face for just a second longer than it should have, his eyes darkening with something unspoken before he quickly looked away.

You felt the blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks growing warmer by the second. You cleared your throat, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to greet him without giving anything away.

“H-hi, Joel,” you stammered, forcing yourself to look at him, even though your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. Your fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of your shirt, desperate to find something—anything—to do with your hands.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours briefly, and you could see the hesitation there, the same uncertainty you were feeling. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his voice coming out low and gruff, but with a warmth that only made you blush harder.

“hello there,” he said, his tone casual, but the way his eyes softened when he looked at you made your stomach flip.

The awkwardness was palpable, like neither of you knew exactly what to say. You wanted to hide from the intensity of the moment, to avoid the feelings that had been swirling between you since that kiss. Your gaze darted down to your feet, your fingers still twisting the fabric of your shirt nervously.

Your husband’s voice suddenly bellowed from the living room, a loud demand for more beer, pulling both of you out of the charged moment. Joel winced slightly, his brow furrowing in mild annoyance at the sound, but you just gave a small, flustered nod.

“Uh, I’ll get that for him,” you mumbled quickly, stepping aside to let Joel in, your skin tingling with the awareness of how close he was as he brushed past you.

As Joel entered, you couldn’t help but glance at him one last time, your heart racing again when you saw the way his eyes lingered on you for a brief second before he turned toward the living room, where your husband was already half-immersed in the game.

“Thanks,” Joel murmured softly, his voice still gruff but gentle as he moved to sit beside your husband.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You knew tonight was going to be hard—being in the same room as Joel, pretending that nothing had changed. But the way your heart leapt every time you caught his eye made it clear that things were far from normal between you.

The night dragged on painfully, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. Your husband’s drinking had started early, his excitement for the game quickly turning into something darker, something meaner as the alcohol took hold. It wasn’t unusual for him to drink during football, but tonight, it seemed worse than usual. Each beer drained away whatever patience he had left, and you could feel his mood souring with every sip.

“Get me another one,” he grunted, not bothering to look at you as he pointed at the empty bottle on the coffee table.

You moved quickly, not wanting to cause a scene, especially not with Joel sitting there. The last thing you needed was for Joel to witness the full extent of your husband’s irritability. But as you handed him the beer, your husband’s gaze flickered up to you, and his expression turned sour.

“Can’t you just do one damn thing right?” he muttered, snatching the bottle from your hand. His words were slurred but sharp, laced with frustration as if your mere presence irritated him.

Your cheeks flushed with humiliation, the familiar sting of his words settling deep inside you. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you from across the room, but you didn’t dare look at him. The embarrassment was too much. All you wanted was to get through the night, to make it out of this room with what little dignity you had left.

But it only got worse. As the game continued, your husband’s tone grew harsher, his demands more insistent.

“Get me some more chips,” he barked, barely glancing at you. You quickly obliged, fetching the bowl from the kitchen, trying to keep your hands steady as you placed it on the table in front of him.

Joel, always polite, nodded in your direction. “Thanks,” he said softly, his voice warm and sincere. The contrast between Joel’s quiet gratitude and your husband’s increasing belligerence was jarring, and it only made the ache in your chest worse.

As you turned to walk back to the kitchen, you felt it—your husband’s hand coming down hard on your ass, the slap echoing through the room. You froze in place, your entire body going rigid as the sting of his hand sent a wave of humiliation crashing over you.

“Good girl,” he slurred, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re real good at one thing at least, huh?”

The room felt like it was spinning, your face burning with shame. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, to even breathe for a moment. Joel was right there. He had seen it all.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the humiliation overwhelming, crushing. You had endured so much already—his cruelty, his indifference—but this? In front of Joel?

You couldn’t stay in the room any longer. Without a word, you turned and walked quickly toward the stairs, your vision blurring as the tears threatened to spill. You could hear your husband muttering something under his breath, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get away.

As you reached the bathroom, you closed the door behind you and leaned against the sink, gripping the edges tightly as the tears finally came. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to hold it together, but it was no use. The humiliation, the shame—it was all too much.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection blurred by the tears that streamed down your face.

What had happened to you? How had things gotten this bad?

You had spent years trying to hold onto the marriage, trying to make things work, but now it felt like you were nothing more than an afterthought, a servant in your own home. The sting of his hand, the cruel way he had dismissed you—it was unbearable.

You didn’t know how long you had been standing there when you heard a soft knock at the bathroom door.

“Hey… it’s me,” Joel’s voice came from the other side, low and cautious, full of concern.

Your heart tightened in your chest. You weren’t sure if you could face him, not after what had just happened. Not after he had seen the way your husband had treated you. But Joel wasn’t like your husband. He had always been kind, always understanding. He had seen you—truly seen you—when no one else had.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

You hesitated for a moment, wiping at your tear-streaked face as you tried to compose yourself. Then, slowly, you unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to let him in.

Joel stepped inside, his presence filling the small space, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. His eyes softened when he saw your tear-streaked face, his brow furrowing in concern.

“I’m sorry,” Joel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean for things to get like that.”

You shook your head quickly, wiping at your eyes again. “It’s not your fault,” you whispered. “It’s just… this is how it is. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Joel’s expression darkened slightly, but not with anger—just with sadness, frustration at the situation. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a tear from your cheek, his touch so different from the harshness you had just experienced. His fingers were warm, careful, like he was afraid to push you any further than you were ready for.

“You don’t deserve this,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “You deserve better than the way he treats you.”

His words broke something inside you, and you felt your lip tremble as another sob escaped. You had been holding it in for so long—holding everything in, trying to be strong, trying to make it work. But now, standing here with Joel, it all came crashing down.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I feel so trapped.”

Joel didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, his eyes locked on yours, full of understanding. And then, quietly, he spoke again.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. Whatever you need… I’m here.”

The warmth in his words, the tenderness in his touch—it was more than you had felt in years. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt seen, felt valued. It stirred something deep inside you, something desperate and raw, a need that had been pushed down for so long.

Before you could even think about it, you lunged toward him, closing the small distance between you and crashing your lips into his. It wasn’t delicate or hesitant—it was a kiss born out of longing, out of months, maybe even years, of being unseen, unheard.

Your hands fisted into his shirt, pulling him closer as your body pressed against his, needing more, needing all of him.

Joel responded immediately, his hands gripping your waist as he kissed you back with a fierceness that matched your own. There was no hesitation in the way his lips moved against yours, no doubt in the way he held you tight.

His hand cupped the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his mouth hungry, demanding.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire, igniting every nerve in your body. His kiss was rough, filled with a desperation that mirrored your own, like he had been holding back for too long and finally, finally, he could let go. The tension between you, all the unspoken words, all the stolen glances—it was exploding now in this moment, and neither of you could stop it.

Your heart raced as your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him under your fingertips. The years of loneliness, of being ignored, melted away with every touch, every kiss. Joel’s hands were everywhere, pulling you closer, pressing you against him as if he was afraid to let go.

He pulled back just slightly, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick with emotion, his lips still brushing against yours. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

You couldn’t respond with words—you didn’t need to. Instead, you pulled him back into the kiss, your lips crashing together again, more desperate, more urgent. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly as he backed you up against the bathroom wall, pinning you there as he kissed you harder, deeper.

There was no space left between you, no room for doubt or hesitation. Your body responded to his in ways you hadn’t felt in years, every nerve alight with the intensity of it. His hands slid down your sides, rough and possessive, holding you tightly as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You could feel the heat rising between you, the desperation building, as if all the longing, all the frustration had finally found an outlet. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, each touch making your breath hitch, your body arch into his.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice breathless, barely able to get the words out.

But he already knew. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was even more intense, more consuming than before. You were lost in him, lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. Everything else—the hurt, the humiliation, the loneliness—faded away until there was only this moment, only Joel.

This was what you had been missing. This was what you had been longing for. And for the first time in so long, you felt alive.

Joel’s breath was hot against your skin as his lips moved along the curve of your neck, each kiss searing into you, grounding you in this moment, in him. His hands gripped you firmly, possessive yet tender, his touch a reassurance that you were more than what you had been made to feel for so long.

“God, you have no idea,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with need. “You’re everythin’. You deserve so much more than what he gives you. So much more.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the intensity in his tone, the sincerity. You could feel the heat between you building, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, kissing along your collarbone, your chest. You were lost in the sensation, the way his hands moved over you, the way his breath ghosted over your skin.

Joel's kisses became more urgent, more fervent, as he slowly knelt before you, his hands sliding down to the waistband of your pants. He paused for a moment, looking up at you with an expression that was both filled with desire and a silent question—a request for permission, for trust.

“Let me worship you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, his hands steady as he began to ease your pants down, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent sparks through you. “I want to show you how much you mean to me. I want you to feel everything.”

The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity as he pulled your pants away, his eyes dark with want as he drank in the sight of you.

Joel stood, lifting you effortlessly in his arms, turning and pressing you gently but firmly against the wall. The coolness of the tile was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off of him, his body holding yours securely, every inch of your weight supported by his strength.

“You’re everythin’,” he murmured again, his lips finding yours in a deep, lingering kiss before trailing down your neck. “You deserve the world. And I’m gonna it to you.”

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted you slightly, his hands gripping your thighs as he held you against the wall. His mouth moved lower, his lips, his tongue, trailing over your stomach, your hips, until he was kneeling before you again, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh.

The sensation of his breath against your skin made your head spin, the anticipation building as his kisses grew slower, more deliberate, inching closer and closer to the center of your need. Every kiss, every touch felt like a promise—a promise that you were cherished, that you were seen.

Joel’s lips trembled against your skin as he kissed down your stomach, rough and hungry, his hands gripping your hips tightly as though he was afraid to let go.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark with desire, and his breath came out hot against your bare thighs as he spread you open for him, his tongue flicking out to tease the edges of your soaked entrance.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he growled, his voice deep and husky. "I've been waitin’ for this, waitin’ to taste this sweet pussy. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about it—about you."

You gasped as he buried his face between your legs, his tongue flat and wide as he dragged it through your folds, groaning like he was savoring every drop.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking hard, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tightly as your legs trembled, and he groaned again, the vibration making you whimper.

"God, you're perfect," Joel mumbled against you, his voice muffled as he licked you with long, languid strokes. "This cunt is all mine tonight, yeah? You feel that? You hear that? This pussy's mine."

He sucked noisily, deliberately making sure every stroke of his tongue was loud, wet, and filthy. You could hear the lewd slurping sounds as he devoured you, his mouth greedy and desperate as if he’d been starving for this moment.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps, your whole body burning under his relentless attention.

“What if he hears?” you whispered, your voice shaky as your head fell back against the wall. “Joel… what if—”

“He won’t hear shit,” Joel cut you off, his voice rough with possessiveness. “That asshole’s passed out cold on the couch. Even if he could hear, I wouldn’t stop. He doesn’t deserve you. But I do.”

His tongue plunged into you, fucking you with wet, deep strokes, his nose brushing against your swollen clit as he grunted against you. “This pussy tastes so fuckin’ sweet, baby. All I want is to hear you moan for me. Let him fuckin’ hear it.”

You couldn’t help but whimper, your hips bucking against his face as he growled, his tongue thrusting deeper, his lips and chin coated with your arousal. He pulled back for just a second, his breath heavy, his eyes wild as he looked up at you.

"Fuck, I could eat this pussy all night," he murmured, his voice almost a snarl as he gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you even closer. "I want to make you come on my tongue over and over, until you can't stand. You deserve to be worshipped like this. I’m not stoppin’ until you scream my name."

With that, he dove back in, his tongue swirling over your clit as he sucked you harder, his mouth relentless. You moaned louder, your fingers tugging at his hair as your body arched off the wall, pleasure crashing through you with every filthy stroke of his tongue.

He groaned again, louder this time, savoring every moment as he devoured you, his mouth hot and hungry, like he couldn’t get enough.

He alternated between sucking your clit hard, his lips tight around the sensitive bud, and sliding his tongue deep inside you, fucking your pussy with slow, torturous strokes.

Each time you gasped, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher, his hands gripping your thighs so hard it felt like he was staking a claim.

"Yeah, that’s it," he murmured between licks, his voice raw. "I want to hear you scream for me. Let me hear how much you love it when I eat this sweet little cunt."

Your moans grew louder, filling the bathroom as Joel’s tongue worked you harder, faster, his groans matching your own as he lost himself in the taste of you.

His hands slid up your body, gripping your breasts roughly as he continued to feast on you, the pleasure so intense it was overwhelming. You couldn’t stop yourself anymore—every nerve was on fire, your mind blank as you gave in completely to him.

"Joel, fuck, I’m gonna—" you gasped, your thighs trembling as you teetered on the edge of release.

"Cum for me, baby," he growled, his voice hoarse as his tongue flicked over your clit again, harder, faster, relentless. "Cum on my tongue. I want to taste all of it."

With a final, devastating suck on your clit, you shattered. Pleasure slammed into you, your entire body shaking as you screamed his name, your nails digging into his scalp as he held you in place, his mouth still working you through the waves of your orgasm.

Joel didn’t stop—he kept licking, kept sucking, devouring every drop as your body convulsed, the intensity of it making your legs shake.

He moaned against you, his tongue softening slightly but still teasing your swollen clit as you came down, his grip on your hips loosening just enough to let you catch your breath.

When he finally pulled back, his face was slick with your arousal, his eyes dark with lust as he looked up at you, his chest heaving.

"You taste like heaven," he rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction as he stood, pressing his body against yours again, his lips crashing into yours in a bruising kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, feel the raw, aching desire still burning between you, and you knew this was only the beginning.

“That’s what you deserve,” he whispered, his hands roaming over your body, possessive and loving all at once. “And I’m not done worshippin’ you.”

Joel’s hands moved up your body slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every second his fingers touched your skin. His breath was still ragged, and his lips were barely an inch from yours as he whispered against them, his voice rough but tender.

“If you were my woman, I’d never let you leave the house without makin’ you cum at least twice,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver through you. “And here he is, treatin’ you like garbage. Doesn’t he see? You’re a goddess.”

He paused, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch gentle but insistent as he slowly pulled it up, over your head, tossing it to the side. His eyes darkened with hunger as he gazed at your bare skin, his breath coming out in a heavy exhale as he traced his fingers along the curve of your waist, up to the clasp of your bra.

“You represent everything good in this world,” Joel continued, his voice deepening as his fingers worked to unhook your bra, his eyes locked on yours. “He should feel so damn lucky to have you. How can he not see what he has?”

Your bra fell away, and his eyes dropped to your breasts, the sight of them making him groan deeply, the sound vibrating in his chest. His hands cupped them reverently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as his lips curled into a smirk.

“These,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, “prove my point exactly.”

Without another word, Joel dipped his head, his lips brushing against one of your nipples before he drew it into his mouth, sucking gently at first, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through your core, your back arching as you gasped, your hands instinctively finding his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned again, his hand kneading your other breast as his mouth worked your nipple with expert precision, sucking harder, his tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh with just the right amount of pressure. Every movement of his mouth, every touch of his hands, felt like he was worshipping you, like you were something precious and sacred.

“I swear,” Joel mumbled against your skin, his lips trailing to your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth with the same intensity.

“If you were mine, I’d worship this body every damn day. You deserve to be treated like the goddess you are, not some afterthought.”

His teeth grazed your nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you, making you whimper as he continued to suck and lick, his hands never leaving your body, constantly exploring, worshipping. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you, his mouth greedy, his hands possessive, but all of it wrapped in the tenderness that made your heart ache.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his breath hot against your skin as he switched between your breasts, lavishing each one with the same amount of attention. “Every part of you is fuckin’ perfect.”

His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you, his erection hard and insistent through his jeans. The friction only added to the heat between you, the tension building with every kiss, every touch. Joel’s lips moved back up to your neck, his breath ragged as he pressed soft kisses along your jawline, his words spilling out between them.

“I could spend all night tastin’ you, touchin’ you,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with raw emotion. “You deserve to feel this good all the time. I’d make sure you never forgot it.”

Your mind was spinning, your body burning under his touch. Every word he spoke, every movement of his mouth, was like gasoline on a fire, and you were completely consumed by him, by the way he made you feel—seen, wanted, worshipped.

Joel’s hands slid back up to your breasts, kneading them as his lips claimed yours in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body radiating heat, his need for you palpable.

“Tell me,” he rasped against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me how much you want this.”

Your breath hitched, your lips parting as his words hung in the air between you. The heat in his eyes, the intensity of his touch—it was overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop yourself from responding.

“I want it so bad, Joel,” you whispered, your voice shaky with need, your body arching into him. “Please… take your clothes off. I need to feel you.”

He groaned at your words, his hands gripping your hips tightly, his erection pressing harder against you.

“Yeah, baby,” he growled, his lips brushing yours, “you need to see a real man. Feel a real cock, not just someone who acts like one. I’ll show you the difference.”

With a swift movement, Joel pulled back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing the broad, muscular chest that you’d only stolen glances at before. His skin glistened with sweat, his muscles flexing as he moved, and the sight of him made your mouth water. Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as you let out a soft moan of appreciation.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you murmured, your voice breathless as your hands wandered lower, desperate to feel every inch of him.

Joel smirked, his hands already working to unbuckle his jeans, his voice dropping to a rough, dirty whisper. “You want this cock, hm? You’ve been starving for it—starving for a man who knows how to take care of you, who knows how to make you cum like you deserve.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as he pushed his jeans and boxers down in one fluid motion, his thick, hard cock springing free, already leaking with precum. It was big—thick and long, veins running down the shaft, the head swollen and glistening.

He gave it a slow stroke, his eyes locked on yours, the sight making your thighs clench with anticipation.

“See this?” he growled, tapping his cock against your thigh, making your breath hitch. “This is what you’ve been missin’. And I’m gonna make sure you never forget what a real man feels like.”

You whimpered in response, your hands reaching out to touch him, to wrap your fingers around his length, but he pulled back slightly, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmured, his voice full of filthy promise. “I want you to feel it everywhere first.”

With that, Joel pressed his cock against your stomach, dragging it slowly across your skin, leaving a slick trail of precum in its wake. You moaned, the sensation driving you wild, your body arching into him as you felt the heat of his shaft sliding over your skin.

“Fuck, you look so good with my cock on you,” he groaned, his hand gripping his length as he slid it up between your breasts, over your chest, your neck, and then back down again. “You want this. You want to feel it inside you, stretchin’ you, fillin’ you up.”

“Yes, Joel, please,” you whimpered, your voice shaking with desperation. “I need it. I need you. I want your cock so bad, I can’t stand it.”

He chuckled darkly, his hand moving to tap the thick head of his cock against your clit, the sudden jolt of pleasure making you cry out.

“You want it here, yeah?” he growled, slapping his cock against your swollen clit again, harder this time, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You want to feel me inside this tight little pussy, fuckin’ you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Oh, God, yes,” you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body trembled with need. “Fuck me, Joel. I want to feel every inch of you. I want you to ruin me.”

His eyes flashed with pure desire as he tapped his cock against your clit again, the wet head of his cock throbbing as more precum leaked out, mixing with your own arousal.

He dragged his length through your folds, coating himself in your slickness, groaning as he teased you.

“I’m gonna make you scream for me,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll never even think about another man again. You’ll be mine, baby. This pussy will be mine.”

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, making you ache for him. Every word he spoke, every filthy promise he made, sent another wave of heat crashing through you, your body desperate for the release only he could give.

“Say it,” Joel demanded, his voice rough as he slid just the tip inside you, stretching you ever so slightly. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Joel,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter as you felt him start to push inside you. “I’m yours. Please, fuck me. Make me yours.”

With a deep, guttural groan, Joel thrust into you, his cock stretching you wide, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching into his as he buried himself deep inside you, his hands gripping your hips as he held you in place.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice strained as he began to move, his cock sliding in and out of you in slow, deliberate strokes. “This pussy is mine now, baby. And I’m gonna make you cum so hard, you’ll forget anyone else ever existed.”

Joel’s thrusts were deep and deliberate, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, but the delicious pressure only intensified the raw need coursing between you. His cock filled you so completely, stretching you to the point where you could barely think straight, only able to feel him.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Joel groaned, his voice rough with lust as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you with a force that made you gasp.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your ragged moans and the wet, lewd sounds of your pussy taking every inch of him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, his voice low and rough as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “This is what you’d get with me all the time. Not that half-assed bullshit you’ve been settlin for. You’d get this—my cock fillin’ you up, my hands on your body, making you cum until you can’t even fuckin stand.”

He punctuated his words with rough, powerful thrusts, his cock driving deeper into you with each one. Your head fell back against the wall, your legs trembling as he held you up, completely at his mercy.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear as his hips snapped into you again and again. “You deserve this, you deserve to be fucked like this every day. Not treated like you’re worthless.”

Joel’s mouth was everywhere—his lips moving over your neck, nipping at your skin before kissing and licking at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

His tongue flicked out, tasting the salt of your skin, and you moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he fucked you harder, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, his voice thick with praise and hunger. “My perfect little good girl.”

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower until he found your breasts again, groaning as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. The sensation of his mouth on your sensitive skin, combined with the relentless pace of his hips, had you gasping, your body on the verge of breaking apart with pleasure.

“Fuck, ’could suck these tits all day,” Joel murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing your nipple as he switched to the other breast, sucking and licking, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he fucked you harder.

“So fuckin’ beautiful. You’d get this all the time with me, baby. You’re my good girl, hm?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher, your nipples aching under his relentless attention. “I’m your good girl. Please, don’t stop.”

Joel growled, a deep, primal sound that sent a shiver down your spine as he kissed his way back up to your mouth, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss.

His tongue invaded your mouth, hungry and demanding, as he continued to pound into you, each thrust harder than the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You whimpered beneath him, your nails digging into his back as he pounded into you, his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming you, and you could barely form coherent words. All you could do was moan his name, begging for more.

“That’s my good girl,” Joel rasped, his lips trailing down your neck as his hips snapped harder, faster. “You love this, baby? You love havin’ my cock so deep inside you, fuckin’ you the way you deserve. Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you need it.”

“I need it,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as your head fell back against the wall, your body trembling with pleasure.

“I need you so bad, Joel. I need your cock. I need you to fuck me harder. I love it. Please, Joel, don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop,” he growled, his hands sliding up your body, cupping your breasts again as he continued to thrust into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“I’ll never stop. You’ll never go a day without feelin’ this. Without knowing how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

His lips moved across your face, kissing your cheeks, your jaw, before finding your neck again, sucking and biting at your skin as he pounded into you. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pushed you closer to the brink of release.

His tongue claimed your mouth with the same intensity as his cock claimed your pussy, his hands still worshipping your body as if he couldn’t stop touching you.

“You feel so good,” he growled against your lips, his breath ragged as his hips continued to slam into you.

“This is what I’d do every single day if you were mine. I’d wake you up with my tongue on this perfect pussy, make you cum before breakfast, fuck you until you can’t even think straight.”

You moaned loudly, your body arching into his as his filthy words made your head spin, the pleasure building inside you with every thrust of his cock.

His hand slid down your body, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in tight circles as he fucked you, his touch sending sparks through your veins.

“I’m gonna make you cum, babygirl,” Joel whispered, his voice thick with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue dominating yours. “I want you to cum all over my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you love it.”

You whimpered, your body trembling as the pleasure mounted, your mind going blank as Joel’s cock slammed into you harder, deeper. His hand on your clit, his mouth on your neck, his body pressed tightly against yours—it was too much, and you felt yourself spiraling toward release.

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough as he felt you tighten around him. “Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

With a final, devastating thrust, the coil inside you snapped, and you screamed his name as your orgasm tore through you, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him as he groaned deeply, his hips never stopping, prolonging your pleasure as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Joel’s hips slowed, but his thrusts remained deep and deliberate, his cock throbbing inside you, the heat of him radiating against your skin. His breath came in hot, ragged bursts against your neck as his hands roamed possessively over your body, caressing every inch of your trembling form.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hips ground deeper, each thrust making your body arch against him. “You’re fuckin’ perfect. My good girl.”

His words sent another jolt of desire through you, your body still sensitive from your orgasm, but you could feel his need, the tension in his body as he held back. His cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was close—so close.

Joel’s pace slowed slightly, his cock throbbing deep inside you as he hovered over you, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. His hand slid down your side, possessive, as if every inch of your body belonged to him now. He kissed along your jawline, his voice husky, thick with lust and something deeper.

“Where do you want me to cum, baby?” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his cock still twitching inside you.

“Tell me where you want it. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

You felt a rush of heat, your body trembling with the intensity of the moment. Your voice came out shaky, but full of want as you gasped, “Inside, Joel. Please cum inside me.”

A guttural groan escaped his throat, his eyes darkening as he stared at you, the words hitting him like a spark to gasoline.

"God, I’ve been dreamin’ of hearing you say that," he growled, his hips bucking forward again, harder this time. "Pumpin’ you full of my seed. Fuck… the thought of you pregnant with my child?"

“The thought of you, round and swollen with my baby—fuck, sometimes I just cum from imaginin’ it,” he growled, his voice growing more desperate as his thrusts quickened, his cock hitting deep inside you with every movement.

“You’d be so beautiful, so perfect. And you’d be mine—all mine.”

His words sent a shock of pleasure straight through you, the intensity of his dirty talk igniting every nerve in your body. Joel’s hands gripped your hips harder as he thrust deeper, his cock filling you completely with each powerful stroke. His voice was raw, full of desperate hunger as he whispered in your ear.

“Imagine it,” he rasped, his breath hot against your neck, his cock pounding into you relentlessly.

“You, swollen with my baby. I’d make you cum again and again while my child grows inside you. I’d take care of you, worship you… make you feel like the goddess you are.”

The filthy images he painted, combined with the overwhelming sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy, made your body tremble, your mind reeling with the intensity of it. Your fingers dug into his back as your moans grew louder, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

His pace grew faster, more frantic as he chased his release, the idea of you full of his cum, of you carrying his child, driving him wild. You could feel him getting closer, his grip on your hips tightening as his cock swelled inside you, his thrusts becoming erratic.

“You’d be such a good mother,” he groaned, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, baby. I’m gonna cum so deep inside you. I’m gonna make sure every drop stays inside. ’ gonna be so full of my cum.”

You were lost in him, lost in the way his body felt against yours, the way his words wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into the pleasure.

“Yes, Joel,” you gasped, your voice shaky as your body trembled with anticipation. “Please, cum inside me. I want it so bad.”

“Take it, baby. Take all of it. I’m fillin’ you up. God, you feel so fucking good.”

With a deep, primal growl, Joel’s hips slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside as he came with a force that made his whole body shudder.

He held you tightly, his breath ragged as he groaned your name, his cum spilling inside you, filling you completely.

You could feel every twitch, every hot pulse of his release, the sensation sending you over the edge again, your body convulsing as a second wave of pleasure crashed through you.

His body shook with the force of his release, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants as he held you tightly, his cock twitching inside you as he emptied himself.

He stayed like that for a moment, his body pressed tightly against yours, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he caught his breath. His cock still twitched inside you, his cum warm and thick as it filled you completely. His hands caressed your sides, his touch tender and loving despite the roughness of what had just happened.

Joel’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he buried his face in your neck, still trembling with the aftermath of his orgasm. “Fuck… you’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of emotion. “’ everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His cock still twitched inside you, the warmth of his cum spreading through your core as he slowly pulled back, pressing soft kisses along your neck, your shoulders.

Joel's breathing was still heavy, his chest pressed against yours as he held you tightly, his cock still buried inside you. He kissed your neck softly, murmuring between deep breaths.

“I’ve been waitin’ for this,” he rasped, his voice low and raw. “You have no idea how long I’ve been savin’ this for you, baby. No one else could ever do it for me. You’re the only one… the only woman I want. I’m full of it, every drop of cum was meant for you.”

His words were tender but possessive, the weight of what he was saying wrapping around you. His hand slid up your side gently, still exploring, as though he couldn’t get enough of touching you. His lips brushed your ear, and his voice took on a pleading tone.

“Please, baby,” he whispered softly, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Leave him. You deserve more. You deserve to be worshipped, loved, the way I’ll love you every single day. You’re mine now. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart pound at the weight of his words, your body still trembling from the intensity of the moment.

As the intensity of the moment began to fade, the weight of Joel's words hung in the air between you. You felt the warmth of his body still pressed against yours, his breath steadying as he held you close, but now, the frantic passion had simmered into something deeper. Something certain.

For the first time in what felt like forever, clarity washed over you. Joel had peeled back all the layers of doubt, of shame, of loneliness, and left you with the undeniable truth—you deserved this. You deserved more.

You shifted slightly in his arms, and he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was soft, no longer driven by raw desire, but by something far more profound. There was a silent question there, one he didn’t have to ask out loud. He had already said it all.

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. You didn’t need to say anything right now. You didn’t need to make promises or decisions this second. But for the first time, you knew. You knew what you wanted, who you wanted.

And Joel knew it too.

“I’ll wait for you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple, the tenderness of the moment grounding you both. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded, feeling lighter than you had in years. You weren’t just his now—you were finally yours.

As the room grew quiet, the weight of your choices settled in, but it wasn’t daunting anymore. It felt like freedom. Like the start of something new.

The beginning of everything you’d been missing.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

5K notes · View notes

fushitoru · 2 months ago

Text

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

#aashi writes #gojo x reader #Gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo Satoru x you #gojo Satoru x reader #gojo Satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo Satoru #gojo

3K notes · View notes