#era: call off your ghost

[mandalhoerian]

the fic i was doing the research for by the way just so i have a better grip of early 2000s leon

(Tentative summary)

[savethebay]

If Chloe isn't sacrificed....

So this is going to be messy and incoherent. Apologies for that. Basically, this is my assumption if I do anything in that AU where the town is destroyed.

Max is the only person Chloe has left. Her entire family died in the storm. The town she lived in her entire life is gone. Chloe is already a person with deep abandonment issues. So of course, at first she ignores the bad feelings. She forces herself to support Max and her choice. It was an impossible choice to make. Chloe always wanted out of the bay, and now she gets to leave.

Most days, she's okay. She's enjoying being on the road with Max. But there was never any real justice for Rachel. She knows Max got taken to the dark room. She knows that she died in multiple timelines. She's grateful for Max. She loves her.

But there is still a tiny bit of resentment. Max disregarded her wishes to die. To save the town and her mother. There has to some lingering negative feelings.

There is also fear. How could she know when and if Max used her powers again? She always trusted her before. But Max destroyed a town, right? No. It was Chloe's fault, wasn't it? There is a budding self loathing in Chloe that makes her spiral, but try so hard to hold it together for Max. Because Max is her everything. Max is all she has.

Anyway, Max is all Chloe knows. And Chloe knows that they are incredibly codependent on each other. Eventually, Chloe began to worry that this is all there is. Traveling, running away, not talking about the bad parts. But where could she go? Max is all she has. Which makes me think of this:

Chloe thinks that they need to separate to find who they really are. Because Chloe has this bitterness and this negativity. It has nowhere to go. Because she can't hate Max. She loves Max more than anything. Which is why she has to let her go. Together they can't move on from Arcadia Bay. I think that eventually, they will meet again. Because Max will always have Chloe's heart. Even if they are apart. She is still very much in love with her.

SO BASICALLY, Chloe wants to see Max again. She hasn't gotten over her, probably never will. But they did a horrible thing together and Chloe is still grappling with it. She never got to mourn because she was trying to support Max. They need time apart, and when they meet again, maybe things can be more honest and more stable.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

the setting itself can be the monster... but also... a lover? much to think about

[dilf-docs]

It Always Leads To You

joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: it's been a year; now you're back. how can joel be so sure of those old summer feelings in your eyes when there's a new hand holding yours?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, toxic relationship, cheating and infidelity themes, mutual pinning, kinda dark!joel, smut, p. in v., pussy pronouns, oral (f. receiving), fingering, manhandling, lowkey forced creampie, ANGST, the taylor swift evermore (2020) references go wild, happy ending cause y'all weak asses voted for it and i love to keep my citizens happy!

word count: 5,199 words

side note: my joel miller era is alive and breathing after this tlou re-watch i'm doing my brother swears it's for him but it's mostly me and my fic/womanly reasons, yes we love gaslight girlkeep girlbossing in here gotta say, finding inspiration for this amidst my wattpad duties and christmas movie marathon was harder than i thought lol. was it worth the wait? please like, comment and reblog to let me know! it's based on this request (they're still open btw!)

part: I / II

Holidays linger like bad perfume.

Your eyes wander through the streets: the roads you've got to call home, the ones where you grew up. They're familiar, but so foreign, it's hard to believe they're the same ones where you scrapped your knees at ten and kissed Joel just last winter. It's as if both timelines, your life, feels more like two separate lives, miles apart.

"Hey, you okay?" tender, from the driver's seat; you're still getting used to the soft.

There's a reassuring smile your way, his hand finding yours to give it a squeeze. You notice his palm is the same size as yours. It fits perfectly, but there's a ghost of what it feels like to have it all wrapped up, looming over your itchy palm like all the yearning's a joke.

You nod. "Just tired. That's all"

He sighs. "If I wanted you to lie to me, I would've just asked"

"I'm not lying" you defend yourself as his pickup truck parks on the sidewalk.

He makes a funny face, and you laugh.

"I'm serious, Nick" your lips purse, a thing you do when you lie, yet he still hadn't noticed, like Joel. "Don't worry"

He doesn't look that convinced, so you take off your seat belt and grab his hand.

"C'mon. Mom and dad must be waiting for us"

"Hey" Nick calls you out.

"Yeah?"

"Who lives there?" and he's pointing behind you.

It's his. Joel's house.

"A friend of my dad's" you answer, dryly.

It was last december when you stood there in his porch, begging. It feels like time has stopped ever since, and you're still right where he left you.

"So will he be here?" Nick asks. "You know, since he knows your dad"

"Don't think so" you shrug, "he's got better things to do anyway. Bitter old man" comes out, with more venom than intended.

"Oh! Alright, sorry for asking"

You come back to your senses, realizing you've shared more than you should.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not that important; let's just go inside"

Your mom and dad greet you as soon as you cross the door. Last year, you'd basically fled away before New Year's, with a poor excuse and a broken heart. They both greet you as if nothing happened, although you're sure they remember your tear streamed face coming back from Joel's house, where it all ended.

As your mom corners Nick with kisses and embarrassing questions, your dad whispers to you:

"Joel asked what happened" you quirk and eyebrow, "wanted to know why you left"

"Eh, it's not important" you try to dismiss. "Definitely not as important for a guy like Joel to know"

"What is that supposed to mean?" your dad inquires. You often wonder if they knew.

"Nothing" you laugh nervously. "Listen, why don't you go and meet Nick, yeah? Did you know he likes fishing too?"

The distraction works with your dad; the same can't be said about you.

There's conversation flowing, but through the snow covered window, your eyes keep glancing back to his own. The view is dark, and you ponder if he's fled as well, the town plagued with memories too painful to reminisce.

You can still feel his hands roaming your body, the lust filled gaze that hid warmth. Every time he touches you, you have to remind you he isn't there: that the lips that kiss you, don't taste like his, that the hands that hold you, aren't big as his, and that the face that looks at you like they'll never choose another, is one you haven't learned to love yet.

Joel's memory cuts like thorns: they sink their teeth into your heart, that bleeds with that blood-colored sadness you're all too familiar with. He's poisoned you. But-- isn't it his love also the antidote for this disease he's gave you?

You abruptly stand up, plate half eaten.

"I-I need some air"

It's cold outside, but you don't care. All you want to do is sit on the porch, and drop some tears, something you can do inside too, but the fear of your muffled cries being able to be heard stops you.

You walk towards the stairs, to sit there like you do on summer days, yet there's now a difference: the snow. So you end up slipping, falling with your butt on the floor.

You yelp, embarrased although no one can see you.

"Need help?"

That you're wrong, apparently.

You don't even need to raise your view to know who that voice belongs to: you know it like a record, spinning in circles on your head.

He offers his strong hand your way, and although the cold wind hits your face, you're back to spring on the cabin: wet feet, bright sun and beating heart.

"I can get up myself" you reject his help, pushing the hand out. You keep avoiding his gaze, so you don't see how he's reacted, yet you hope he feels bad about it.

You walk up to the front door, and it takes you a while to realize he hasn't left yet. On top of that, it seems like he's following you. Just what you needed.

"What are you doing here?" you question, but your tone sounds like you're offended.

"Your folks invited me over" Joel answers, "Says they got a special guest"

"Yeah" this time, you do look back, finding him to be much closer than you thought he'd be. Yet you stand tall, defiant even. "It's my boyfriend"

You savour the way his expression falters, before the stoic façade takes over again.

"Boyfriend?" Joel scoffs, as if you just told the funniest joke ever.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" you bite back. "What? Think a pretty girl can't get a new man?"

"Never said I'd doubt'it" he clicks his tongue. "Y'a could get any man you'd want, sugar"

Ironically, the only man you want stands before you.

"Right" you chuckle dryly, "I think it's kind of funny of you to say that"

Joel's eyes bore into yours, a clash of emotions circling in his chocolate orbs.

"Y/n-"

"Don't" you stop him. Then sigh, defeated. "Let's just go inside"

As soon as you both arrive on the dinning room, your parents both greet Joel. Then, they introduce him to their guest, just as promised.

"Joel, this is Nick, y/n's boyfriend" your father speaks. "Nick, this is Joel, a dear old friend of mine"

Nick, as the gentleman he is, offers his hand. Joel accepts, but you can see the barely desguised displease behind his eyes.

"Wow, strong grip" Nick comments before joking, "you can let go now, I'm not going anywhere"

The hidden meaning of his words, whether intentional or not, hit Joel in the face. It's obvious by the way he backtracks, letting go of Nick's hand.

As you sit again, Nick leans to your side and whispers.

"Is this the guy who lives in the house across the street?" you nod. "Thought you'd said he had better plans. But, see? I told you: no plan's more important than coming to your house"

He's always making jokes, trying to make you smile, but it's done the opposite now. The food has gone cold long ago, yet you cut through the meat with a violence so palpable, even your mom tells you to slow down.

The nerve of Joel, showing up to your house like it's nothing, talking to you like he's unaware of his spell on you, acting like Nick is some sort of competition when he pulled out of the race himself a winter ago.

"So, Nick. How did you two meet?" your mom adresses him, eager to know details.

"It was at a party, actually, through mutual friends. Not a very spectacular story, that I know. What's funny is, she asked me what hour it was. And what did I say?"

"He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said: For you, I'm available any hour" you answer.

Your parents laugh, but Joel remains quiet. You wonder what he's thinking.

"You know" looking at Nick while cutting the steamed vegetables a little too agressive, "y/n actually hates parties"

"Joel" you warn through gritted teeth.

"Really? I didn't know that!" Nick seems so genuine, Joel can't help but hate him. He looks at you, concerned "You didn't tell me"

You can't believe he would rat you out like that. The appropiate word isn't hate, and you don't know how to describe it, but parties aren't really your environment; if you can, you'd choose to be anywhere else.

He'll pay for that.

"Joel" you seethe, an ugly smile painted in your features, "did you know Nick knows how to fish?"

It's a direct jab at him. He feels stupid for letting you get to him. The inferiority complex towards some random guy he just met, years younger, is actually laughable.

"I like-" Nick wants to add on that.

"Well" Joel interrupts, looking at you. "You never taught me like ya' were s'pposed to"

"You never cared to learn" you reply, acidic.

He sips his drink, trying to hide the smirk that's formed on his lips. You can't shut up, and he loves you've stayed the same.

"That means I've got some classes to take" Joel leans back on his chair, relaxed like he's won this round. "Just tell me when"

The tension cuts like the storm that's just formed outside.

"You should stay over, Joel" your dad offers when he takes a peak at the climate, "it's too dangerous outside"

Joel seems indestructible, like not even a snow blizzard could pierce through the rough old man. But he agrees, much to your dismay.

It's probably midnight already, and all you've done is toss around the bed. Nick peacefully snores next to you, and you envy how easily he falls asleep. You've always find it hard to sleep, the nighttime plagued with too many loud thoughts that fill the silence.

You get up carefully, heading downstairs for some water. You sip with tranquility when a noise jolts you from your sit.

The wooden floor creaks, making you aware you're not alone anymore.

"Can't sleep?"

You don't answer, seeing his sturdy figure emerge from the shadows until the dim moonlight shines over his aging features. Silence settles in. Outside, the wind howls, bumping against the windows with violence, like your heart does now against your chest.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

"There's nothing to talk" cuts your response through the thick tension, the air suddenly suffocating.

You take another sip, but the tremble of your hand doesn't go unnoticed by Miller.

"Right" Joel sits next to you, on the kitchen island. "Won't even look at me, sugar? You've got eyes" his voice drops, "use 'em"

"What are you doing, Joel?" you ask looking at him, tears threatening to spill, making your bright eyes shimmer with pain.

He gets up abruptly, like he's woken up from a trance. He's seen his own pain on your eyes, and he hates it.

"Joel?" you ask again, demanding but softly.

He can't answer. Instead, he leaves.

"Goodnight, y/n" voice raw, many emotions boiling, hidden on the inside. It hurts.

If you hadn't changed, Joel too stayed the same.

A goddamn coward.

Two days have passed since, and now it's Christmas Eve.

You kneel, putting the presents under the tree. Normally, your parents would have much more people around for the holidays, but thanks to the storm, it's just them, Nick, Joel and you.

"I'm gonna miss Mrs. Stone's cookies" you pout, "I wish she could be here"

"It's a big loss for tonight" your dad sighs. "Next time, yeah? Christmas will come again faster than you think"

You nod, still absent as he walks away.

"Hey" Joel pops up behind, seemingly from nowhere.

"Hey" you reply, voice laced with tiredness just at the sight of him. How will you manage to survive until New Year's? You have no idea, the task harder if he's staying in the same house as you are.

"Put this in there, will ya'?"

He hands you a box, neatly wrapped up. What stands out the most is the silver bow on top. Your stomach drops: it's your favorite color.

"Y-yeah" you stammer. When the present falls in your hands, you notice it looks like Joel did it himself.

"Didn't know you were capable of nice things" you whisper. There's no anger in your voice, only loss.

"I'm trying" is what he says, before leaving you alone. Until then, you realize he had been touching you, the skin where his hand was on your shoulder burning.

Dinner goes by swiftly, conversation flowing easily courtesy of Nick and your father, who both have in common the love for talking. It may be your brain messing with you, but his eyes never leave you, fixated on your every move, savoring when your lips open and take a bite; when you lick them afterwards, salt in your mouth he'd love to take off in a movement of his tongue. The ghost of your lips haunts him, cruelly playing with his yearning now that he's got you across the table. It's a few centimeters, really, but it feels like you're miles away: and it's his fault. You're no longer his, and he's reminded of it every time your boyfriend kisses what he once had.

Now it's time to open the presents, and you excitedly raise your hand to go first.

"Alright, sweetheart. You know I can't deny you anything" your father beams, "go ahead. Choose any present you'd like to open first"

Joel's eyes are on you, and you know he's desperately waiting for you to open his first. Maybe partly in courage, maybe partly in fear, but you choose Nick's first: something safe to start with.

"That's mine!" he chirps, and Joel mockingly imitates his kid-like joy under his breath.

You unwrap the present, finding a small box inside.

"Please, don't be another box" you joke, and he laughs.

"You think that low of me? Please"

You keep unwrapping and find a bag. The bag has a small tag that reads: Gotcha.

"Nick! God, you're so corny" you tease as you open the bag. Inside, there's a velvet box, and by the looks of it, you can tell it's jewelry. You gasp, pulling out a silver charm tied to a silver thin chain: it's a marlin fish. "Nick..."

"I know. Marlin isn't your favorite fish, but that's all I could find" you get up, wrapping him on a tight hug. Aware you've got an audience, he leans and whispers "I knew fishing was special to you, because of your dad and childhood. Maybe now" he takes it from your hands, carefully putting it around your neck, "it can also be our special thing"

Joel sees the scene unfold in front of him, his grip tight on the cloth of his jeans until it's white. His jaw clenches at the affection display; all he sees is red.

"What about that one?" your mom points out Joel's present. A pit of nerves forms in your stomach. "I don't remember seeing it there"

Before you can grab it, your dad moves faster, examining the box on his hands.

"It's Joel's" he makes a pause, "for y/n"

You pretend to be shocked, and you can tell Nick tenses at your side.

"You didn't tell me you were close"

"Used to" you correct quickly, despite the knot on your throat. "Not anymore"

"He still got you a present, though"

You don't get to answer because your dad leaves the box on your lap.

"Open it" it's soft but feels threathing for some reason, "I'm curious"

Joel's resting hands tremble as much as yours while you open the present. You reveal the simple white box under the wrap, opening it up.

Your voice comes out shaky as you call his name. And he can see it: the muffled laughters on the shed, the warmth of the cabin's fire, the fogged up windows of his car, the bruises on your tits and that voice, so vulnerable, he can see you on his porch, saying those three words that terrified him so much, his solution was breaking your heart.

"What is it?" your dad asks.

"It's a scarf" the fabric tickles your fingers that wander through the loose strands.

You remember it all too well.

"Oh, it's vintage!" your mom comments when she sees the worn-out aspect.

But just as your affair with Joel, you keep the secret of it's real owner.

"It's perfect" you mutter, remembering better times: ones where he'd wrap the scarf colored as the leaves on the ground around your neck, covering bruises he'd just made while you joked you'd steal it, and Joel would say he'd just let you, that it looked better on you anyway.

You've forgotten the good, so used to thinking of Joel at your worst, like a punishment to endure and sink your shipwreck even deeper. You felt lost, replaying memories that seemed stuck on a loop. Since last december, all you've known is pain; creeping up through the cracks in your fleeting happiness, one you've tried to find to no avail. One day, past the curses and cries, maybe there'll be happiness. But as for now, that day seems terribly far.

As he sees your teary gaze, Joel often wonders were it went wrong. When did hurt was all you had for him in that gaze of yours he can't bare to look that long, not before he's reliving all those seasons by your side, replaying his footsteps on the snow, grass, water and fallen leaves, trying to find the one where it all went wrong. The torture he now wears like a second skin, his agony painted words addressed to the fire of a house that feels so empty and alone.

"We should continue" your dad speaks over the silence, "there are still many presents left"

The night moves slowly, and the scarf you've chosen to wear is now suffocating around your neck. But you can't take it off. This is the closest you've been to Joel on a year; it still smells like him. As the presents run out, you excuse yourself early to bed, only to wake up again in the middle of the night. You want to pee, so you exit your room and walk to the bathroom, your bare feet against the cold wood sending shivers down your spine that only seem to augment when you walk past his door, next to the bathroom. After being done, you splash some water on your face, as if that would make some sense get to you.

"What are you doing?" you ask yourself in the mirror. Your tired reflection stares back at you, in silence.

You open the door, ready to go back to bed when a hand covers your mouth and shoves you inside.

"Don't scream" your cries go muffled against his hand, the calloused digits pressing against your soft skin, "wanna wake 'em up?"

You shake your head, so he lets your mouth free.

"Joel" you call out, but he's facing the door, his back all you see. No sound can be heard, aside from his uneven breaths.

"I'm sorry" he says, and then you hear the small click of the door's lock.

"What the hell?"

This time, he faces you, but his movements are so quick you don't register his lips on yours until it's too late. He kisses you like a starved man who hasn't had a meal in years, eating you out while your body acts up on it's own, the urgency embarrasing even.

"No" you pull back. Your mind screams in guilt at how much you want this, and that's all you can hear aside from his ragged breaths.

"No?"

"It isn't fair"

"To lover boy out there?" he teases, "I know he ain't treating you right, or ya' wouldn't look me the way ya' do"

"Don't, Joel" your tone is icy, "Nick treats me better than you ever could"

He laughs, darkly. "You know I ain't meant that" he corners you against the sink, the material cold against your bare legs; you don't sleep with nothing but an oversized t-shirt, despite the weather.

"Riddle me this, sugar: if he treats you so well, why are you so fucking wet?"

Your heart beats so fast you fear you'll die. He gets closer, his hot breathe prickling against your ear.

"It takes a man to please a woman" he tucks a loose strand behind your ear, "and I ain't leaving my baby displeased"

His fingers pull down the panties until your clit is exposed.

"Look at 'er" he traces a teasing finger over the puffy skin, coated on your slick "missed me, didn't she? Gonna treat 'er so good, she won't ever feel lonely again"

He softly kisses your neck, the trepidation and regret tying your stomach in knots.

Joel teases your needy core with his finger.

"Tell you somethin', sugar" Joel finds it hard to hide his adoration, "I missed 'er too"

He stares into your eyes while pushing two rough fingers inside your cunt. You bite your lip, holding back your moans.

"Need summ help?" he kisses you roughly, smirking when he feels your shaky breath against his lips. He pushes them in and out faster, making your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

"Did he ever have you comin' this fast? I'ont think so" he whispers against your neck. You whisper his name through labored breaths, making a smug smile adorn his features. "Good girl"

He proceeds to kneel down, despite the creak of his bones. You see him leave a trail of kisses down your thighs, your legs opening wider in response. His tongue gives rapid flickers against your sensitive bud, aware of the lack of time. He slurps the pulsing cunt, his head moving back and forth while he sucks, coating his moustache on your juices. Joel goes back to the quick movements, tongue knowing your spots and twisting fingers as aid, causing your back to arch.

"Fuck" you curse as you come, gripping the sink a bit too tight.

Joel then pulls away and places his fingers coated in your arousal in his mouth and licks them. He sees the obscene display in the fogged mirror, satisfied.

"Goodnight, sugar" Joel bids goodbye like it's nothing, kissing your lips that taste like you. "Still as sweet as ever"

It's New Year's Eve.

"You're leaving?" you sound so sad, Joel can't help but scoff. In the end, he'd stayed long after the storm had passed, your father arguing holidays weren't meant to be spent alone. So he stayed.

And now, Nick is leaving.

"I'm sorry" he apologizes for the millionth time, "but granny is sick. I don't know if she'll make it another year, so say the doctors. I would love to stay, really, but I have to be with her"

You understand, having lost your grandad years ago. But that doesn't mean you're okay with it: Nick leaving means a clear path for Joel, who didn't stop with him sleeping next room, and certainly won't now, despite not having interacted with you since he ate you out on the bathroom.

He pulls you into a long hug and a kiss that doesn't feel the same anymore. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah" you nod, "I'll miss you though"

"Well, I'll be all yours when you get back"

You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"See you, y/n. I love you"

Your lips purse after you utter those three words back.

Later at night, the house is filled with guests. The lively environment is restored, and you feel less confined to Joel's claws, so many faces to speak and distract yourself with, compared to Christmas and the past couple of days. You clutch the marlin charm tightly, mind busy wandering to places it shouldn't. Joel stares at you from across the room, eyes trained on you as he sips his drink calmly, like he's won; you don't know why he's keeping score if he already knows it. You wander off to the kitchen, and Joel follows you.

"You have to stop" you speak as soon as he enters, aware he would follow you.

"I ain't do shit"

You turn around, facing him. "Bullshit, Joel"

"Tell me, what'd I do?" he comes closer, and despite your erratic heart and fear, you stay still; challenging.

"You did this, Joel" his expression falters for a second, the weight of last december's crimes dawning on him. "Don't try to make me feel guilty"

"I ain't. That wasn't your fault" he sighs, breath dragging long like a cigarrette. "But this" he motions with his hands the reduced distance, "this it is"

Your breath hitches.

"We can't keep doing this, Joel. Nick doesn't deserve it"

He pins you against the counter with force, gripping the skin of your wrists until you're sure you'll get a bruise. Joel's eyes darken at the thought of your frail and soft body under his rough figure and belly, his strength and your weakness making the job of putting you under his will, so much easier.

"Don't say his name" he whispers, his breath laced with alcohol, "he ain't here anymore. Ain't nothing to stop me now, right, sugar?" Joel purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before starting a heated kiss, making you stumble.

This was so wrong, but it felt so right, the missing pieces falling like dominoes.

He was your pain divine: you needed his hurt to bleed and feel alive again. Maybe the red of the blood and the blue of your sadness could paint your darkest grey skies with a happiness you've craved since you lost him.

"Tell me to stop" Joel whispers, tempting like a devil as he kisses down your neck, littering it with hickeys.

"Don't"

Next thing you know, you're excusing yourself upstairs and then Joel goes missing too, both inside of your bedroom.

Your dress was the first thing to go.

"Wear it for me?" you're about to answer, lips pursing, but he cuts you off, "and don't lie, sugar. Don't get too used to the bad girl schtick"

"I only wore this dress so you could take it off"

He kisses you desperately, legs wrapped around his waist while he carries you to bed, and the memories of your first flood you as he drops you down to your back, watching the way you bounce. He has you just like he wanted: moaning his name while he leaves tender kisses on the soft bare flesh.

"Joel-" you gasp. Despite the chatter downstairs and music, you try to remain low as he wraps his lips around your nipples. He then moves to your breasts, covering them with his kisses and hickeys. He hadn't touched a woman ever since you left, the feeling of the rosy innocent skin on his rough teeth making him loose all common sense, the real thing even better than what he would try to conjure when he fucked himself in the bathroom at the memory of you.

He groans when he feels your hands roaming over his back, nails digging on the scarred skin.

"Someone's eager" he teases, seeing your damp underwear. "Is this 'cause of me?" you don't answer, too busy removing the cloth, only for his strong fingers to grab you and stop you. "Don't be shy, answer baby. We got a whole new year, yeah?"

"I need you Joel" you whine, not laughing at the joke "cut the crap"

He pushes you gently back down to the bed. "So needy sugar, want me to help ya'?"

You eagerly nod, making him laugh. But there's no mock, only love behind the sound.

"Will you let this old man take care of ya', pretty baby? Just use your words, and I'll be all y'rs"

"Do it, Joel. Just do it"

You gasp as your folds begin to be prodded open by the fat head of Joel's cock. You curse, feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of your walls welcoming his size making you grab his arms that stand at the sides of your body, caging you in.

His tummy pushes against your stomach as he adjusts himself, his weight sinking your body on the creaking matress.

"'S just the tip, ready for the whole thing?"

You needed him, all of him.

"Yes, Joel. I want you" You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every empty space that craved for him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as his hips roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in. His sloppy thrusts pick up a familiar pace that makes you moan and beg for more, head falling against the sheets as his pace speds up until he's fucking you senseless.

Joel's brain goes blank at the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds leaving your pretty mouth. Did he really give this up? He'd definitely go back in time and slap the fuck out of his past self, because there is simply nothing better than having you under him, screaming his name like that's all you can ever say.

"Does he fuck you like this, huh?" Joel angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace. Your body jolts with each snap. "Is he enough for you?"

"Yes" his stomach drops, dark eyes now hesitant, "but he isn't you"

He pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Tell me you'll leave him, y/n. Look me in the eyes and tell me who ya' really belong to"

Your eyes snap open at the possesiveness clashed with jealousy that drips from his sweat-soaked lips.

The confession falls easily, as meant to be. "Yours, Joel. Always was and will be"

He could cum just at the sight of your loving doe eyes.

Downstairs, the countdown begins, but in your room, all you can hear are his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the people would stop shouting, you could probably hear the squelch of your dripping cunt sucking in his girth with each thrust.

After a few more erratic thrusts, you feel his warm cum fill you up. Joel was always obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock. Without thinking, his rough fingers push deep in you, making you yelp as he makes sure he isn't wasting a drop behind.

The countdown ends, and fireworks erupt outside as your head rests on the crook of his sweat covered neck.

"I love ya', sugar" those words you thought you imagined that one time, now real, so goddamn real his voice quivers and eyes get tearful with grief, "'S okay if ya' don't say it. I just wanted you to hear 'em. 'M just tired of wastin' my time"

He wraps your lips with his with tenderness you had only dreamed of. There is still a lot to talk and heal, but this time, his arms hold you like a promise. And you let yourself believe it.

Y/n's New Years' purposes: 1. Break up with Nick 2. Try to explain this seasonal mess to mom and dad 3. At last, try to be happy

[shotmrmiller]

response to this but it got so long and ig im in my throuple era rn

@xoxunhinged i listened to one (1) song on repeat while writing this on the phone

okay yeah wait or just

it's ghost x price first.

Big burly men taking up too much space in the little coffee shop you work at or something and they're there like clockwork too. Every wednesday and friday, 8 am, usually the first clients of the day and all they order is a regular cup of joe. Plain. You offer alternative sweeteners, powdered creamer, but no dice.

Plain black. Like the occasional smudge of eyeliner(?) around the bigger one's eyes.

They're cute, in their own way. John is a blend of rugged charm and seasoned wisdom. The other, Simon, is mysterious. Guarded. Speaks only to his companion.

The pet names start to get to your head. Of course, you reason that John's just not from around here. His calling you sweetheart from across the room to grab your attention must be English.

But logic cannot stop the heat from licking up your cheeks when he does. or when Simon calls you something different altogether eventually.

"Mornin', pet."

It's even more gut-twisting when you catch glimpses of the occasional PDA: A large hand curling around an even bigger jean-clad thigh. Faces so close they could kiss (Waterboarding couldn't get the fact that you've rubbed your thighs together at the thought of them actually kissing out of you) and the fact that Simon's usually sharp gaze softens around the edges, pale gold whispering against the puckered pink of a barely visible scar beneath his face mask.

A couple. They're a couple. It's bittersweet, that feeling settling in your chest. Like dark chocolate coating your tongue. Honeyed nectar of love, the bitter bite of it not being your own.

Maybe it's time to go out with your friends to the bar.

Things take a nasty turn when Simon, out of the both of them, had come in alone and propositioned you on crisp, saturday morning.

Oh, the acid in your stomach felt like it was corroding the walls of your esophagus as it rose. You don't remember much of what you said but it'd been loud, vitriolic. You'd been so furious. Hurt that they had something so sweet, something they could call their own, and here comes this big dumb oaf looking for a piece of warm meat to stick his cock into on the side.

Your manager sent you home for the day.

And home you were headed, well more like the bus stop, stomping away and across the street but the hand that wraps around your arm to keep you in place is John's. (You'd been actually fighting to get away and he hadn't even tightened his grip enough to hurt. embarrassing.)

He clears things up. Tells you to forgive Simon, he's not the most verbose or eloquent with the words he does choose to speak. "He's good at receivin' orders instead of givin' 'em. isn't tha' righ'?"

The "yes, sir" that comes out of Simon is immediate. Obedient. Submissive. (gagging, i actually slammed the desk with my fist rn) A man who knows his place because it is etched in stone. Your teeth grind like rusted gears to keep from turning into a pool of liquid in broad daylight.

"What he meant," he roughly clarifies, "is that we would like you to share our bed." your face burns hot enough to sting. "If you want," John continues, limpid blue eyes fixed on your own.

He looks rather handsome in his uncertainty.

They don't even let you go home to wash and clean up when you nod. (Or shave. Simon had very audibly scoffed at your complaint about that. Said something crass about eating lollipops off the carpet)

The dynamic had been exactly what you'd expected it to be in the bedroom. When authority spoke, Simon listened. Intently. Without hesitation. When John ordered Simon— who'd sat with his broad chest curling around your spine, cocooning you in warmth and the faint scent of smoke, mahogany, and leather— to hook his hands behind your knees and pull your legs up to your shoulders, he'd done so in an instant.

The subtle burn of your hamstrings stretching pulled a hiss from your kiss-swollen lips.

"Bit o' pain with pleasure never hurt anyone, eh, sweetheart?" The deepened rumble of John's voice vibrated in your chest and made your toes curl.

Simon's steady breaths are drowned out by your shuddering ones when John puts his mouth on you, the prickle of his facial hair tickling your sensitive, heated skin.

The burning stretch of your muscles is nothing compared to the sweet sting of two fingers sinking into your hot sex. Pleasure wells in the corner of your eyes when he curls and scissors them while his slick tongue swirls your clit languidly.

He sends you over the edge with practiced ease, shaky limbs, and unsteady mewls. The kiss he plants on your still pulsing cunt is tender, as are your now unrestrained legs.

And he slants his lips-- still dripping slick, dewy beads collecting on his beard-- over Simon's whose mask is now long gone, his erection coming to sit heavy on the fatty mound of your pussy. You can feel the heat of his cock even through his clothes.

A saliva strand connecting them two snaps as he pulls away, glancing down to look at you, sweaty and unkempt, glassy eyes shamelessly staring back.

"I'd let Simon get his turn but," hands weave up your shirt and inside your sports bra while John's grab your legs and wrap them around his thick waist, "gotta prep ya first."

(?)

That comes back to mind after your limbs feel like cold syrup, warmth dribbling from your puffy lips and falling onto the damp bedsheets beneath your arse cheeks.

The question answers itself when Simon slots himself between your aching legs, uncut cock fat and hefty.

(dis)Respectfully, you feel thoroughly used and even now, that doesn't look like it's going to go in easy.

"Easy, love," John's voice comes from above you, "He won't hurt ya. Isn't tha' righ', Simon?"

Simon, who's dark eyes hadn't moved from where John's spend still steadily flowed, cut to him instantly. "Yes, sir."

He hums, a low, raspy sound. "How 'bout you tell our bird tha'?"

A rough hand wraps around your neck, thumb pressed on your fluttering pulse. "I won't hurt ya." His grip tightens, and the swoosh of blood roaring in your ears is deafening.

Much.

The world around you fades, senses attuned only to what's currently wrenching your swollen walls apart, going in, in, and in, it feels never-ending, it's so much, too much, until--

Your stomach clenches, it feels like it's folding in on itself, and a sharp feeling radiates below your navel.

Lips kiss your sweaty temple. "That's all there is. Did so well, eh, sweetheart? Took 'im real good, like you were meant for it."

His cock drags along your over-sensitive, raw nerves in a way that has fire licking up your spine as he pulls back. "Easy, Simon. You'll get your fun from me," John assures.

Your cunt clenches unbidden at that, vise-like around Simon who quietly groans.

The first roll of his hips pushes the air from your lungs, the second blanks your jumbled mind, the third has your nails sinking into whoever's forearms are beside your head, and the fourth has you confusing John's glittering eyes with stars.

And then he places your feet flat on his chest, his weight folding you in half, pinning you in place. Nowhere to run.

Your teeth clack when he thrusts firmly, tip of his cock sitting firmly against the plug of your womb.

"Easy does it, love. Jus' be good 'n take it," John mutters into your ear.

As if you had any choice.

After, when you're completely spent, they tell you to lay back, head propped up by a mountain of pillows, but to keep your legs open, let them see that pretty pussy, they want to see their cum spill out of you.

You thought the fucking Simon gave you had been rough. What John gives him from behind is attempted murder. He grabs at Simon's hair like it's the scruff of a bellicose dog. Pins him in place with his words, growled, thunderous, then his grip. Simon doesn't bare his crooked teeth once.

When your tired hand slithers down to between your legs, tips of your fingers smearing cum around your swollen flesh, arousal surprisingly panging deep in your core, the sheer force of John's thrusts rocks the bed with enough force to crack the wall and Simon whines like a dog in heat.

[hivemuthur]

Drugs in Our Body | Reader Version

viktorxfemale!reader AU university, AU modern era, recreational drug use, smut-adjacent (but really was aimed more at sensual)

word count: 5,4K

summary: A self-indulgent one-shot of Viktor and Reader going through a high together and ending up all tangled up, touchy, kissy, breathy, so on and so forth. I might or might not have written Viktor into my core memory from uni.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

It had been going so well. You’d managed to sneak out of the third floor, enjoy a solitary elevator ride up to your dorm room, and avoid bumping into anyone. A quick stop at the only working vending machine in the building had earned you a packet of honey peanuts—your second small victory of the night. Shoving a tiny packet with white powdery leftovers into the nobody-knows-what-it’s-for pocket of your jeans, you quietly unlocked the door and slipped into the darkness of your bedroom.

Sue, your roommate, was off campus for the weekend, and the relief of having the room to yourself was palpable. All that was left was to rid yourself of the constricting clothes and underwear in favour of her freshly laundered favourite pyjamas. Mission accomplished.

You were just pulling on your shorts when a soft, methodical knock echoed through the silence.

Shit.

Your first instinct was to ignore it. There was absolutely no way anyone could have seen you—you’d made sure of it. This was a very serious mission, and you had accomplished it with meticulous care. You could definitely just pretend you weren’t there.

“I know you’re in there,” a voice with an undercurrent of amusement—and the accent—called through the door, slipping straight into the soft spot in your brain. Your current state of unfiltered contentment only magnified its effect, sending warm waves through your body.

Barefoot, your steps silent, you padded to the door and cracked it open. The fluorescent lights of the dormitory corridor immediately assaulted your eyes, and you let out an involuntary whine. Standing there, bathed in the harsh glow like some caricature of a holy figure, was Viktor.

“Need something?” you asked, squinting at him painfully.

He was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized green jumper, the hem of a white T-shirt peeking out at the collar. Leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, his hands rested on his cane, one eyebrow raised, his lips curled into a knowing smile.

“How inconspicuous do you think you are?” he asked, smugness radiating off him.

Your heart sank. Impossible. You had been so careful. Every step had been measured, every movement ghost-like. During the elevator ride, you hadn’t so much as breathed too loudly. He was bluffing.

“What do you mean?” Your voice dripped with exaggerated innocence, enough to make Viktor snort softly.

Slowly, he leaned in, one hand propped on the doorframe as his sharp gaze zeroed in on your face. Your noses were now an inch apart. Less than an inch. You could smell the faint scent of his body wash and the wool of his jumper. Your carefully constructed composure cracked as you inhaled sharply, just once, stealing a whiff of him.

It was worth it.

“This little sneaking-about routine you just pulled,” he said, his eyes studying you, his lips curling in amusement as realization dawned.

It was over. He knew.

The blown pupils, the blush blooming across your cheeks, the smile you couldn’t suppress when he got closer—it all gave you away. But you weren’t ready to let him win without giving him some grief first.

“I… went to get a snack. See?” You reached over to a cabinet by the door, pulling out the packet of honey peanuts and holding it up like a prized exhibit. “Don’t you believe me?”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he took the peanuts from your hand. “Close enough. Maybe I would… if you weren’t giggling the whole time,” he said with a teasing smile.

You froze. Giggling? Impossible. You’d been quiet as a mouse, serious as a statue, your determination unwavering as you had ghosted through the building.

“So… what’s going on?” His voice was casual, curious—almost as if he were asking you out—and it yanked you right out of your spiralling paranoia.

Before you realized it, your hand had grabbed his forearm. His jumper was so soft under your fingers, and you pulled him gently—hesitantly—through the doorway. Your eyes never left his as you inched him inside, a silent question lingering in the back of your throat: Am I busted?

After a moment of silence in the darkness, you cleared your throat. You could see the amusement on his face, etched there the entire time, and it made your blood simmer.

“Just killing time while Sue’s away. Why?” you said, your voice a picture of innocence. You turned away, plucking a book from the cabinet and settling on the bed. Because, of course, you were going to have a reading session in a pitch-black room.

Even with the only light in the room being the faint glow of the corridor bulbs seeping through the door crack, you could feel his gaze flick to your legs. It burned.

“And how, pray tell, were you killing time in complete darkness?” His voice dripped with an unthinkable suggestion, sending a shiver down your spine. Or perhaps the shiver came because the implication wasn’t as unthinkable as you wished it were.

God, get your sass back on, girl. You had to, or you were going to lose miserably.

“Excuse me? Are you accusing me of indecency, dear TA?” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended but steady enough. It earned you an indulgent smile from him, so maybe it was the right move.

“I would never,” he replied, mock innocence smoothing over his features. Viktor stepped closer, reaching to turn on the night light beside the bed. Its orange glow was soft yet oppressive, making you squint against the sudden brightness. “Though I might take my chances accusing you of… some other indulgence,” he added with a sly smile as he sat down beside you.

“I am a victim, not a villain,” you quipped, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

Viktor’s expression shifted instantly to one of concern, and you inwardly cursed. Too late to take it back now.

“You are?” he asked, his gaze sharpening as he turned to look directly at you, trying to piece together what you meant.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, your voice light and dismissive, though the apology sounded genuine. “That sounded worse than it was. Don’t get all worked up.” You offered him an apologetic smile and, without thinking, rested your hand on his forearm.

His jumper was impossibly soft under your fingers, melting into your skin. You had to gather every ounce of willpower not to let your fingers linger or caress his arm, lest you completely betray yourself.

“There’s a party on the third floor,” you admitted, “and, well… it was boring.” God, you felt like a child explaining yourself after drawing a masterpiece on the bedroom wall while the adults sipped drinks and discussed politics. This felt wrong; surely, you didn’t have to explain yourself.

“Alright,” Viktor replied, his tone reassuring and careful. His eyes flicked down to your hand on his arm, and he didn’t move. It was warm, soft—comforting—and he didn’t want to scare it away.

“And… what did you have?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

“E, I think?” you said, your tone casual but hesitant, like someone confessing to sneaking an extra cookie before dinner. You thought it was E, though it felt slightly different—softer. You felt calm and didn’t think your heart was about to explode.

“You think?” His brow arched, scepticism plain as day. So irresponsible, on full display. He could convince you to do anything now. He could whisper you into robbing a bank with him. He could make you serenade him. He could ask you to lick his neck while he groped your ass and kissed your stomach. He could... no.

“Oh, that makes me look so bad,” you groaned, dragging a hand over your face, the sound almost slapping him out of his dark fantasy. “But it’s not as bad as it looks.” Your hand returned to his arm, and he flinched slightly.

“I am sure,” he replied dryly, “as long as no one has a heart attack or falls in battle with an imaginary dragon.” His attempt at joking felt weak, too breathy to be taken seriously. Shut up, Viktor. What are you, her father?

“God, you sound like a parent, Viktor.” You threw him a look that was part annoyed, part amused. He sounded like a parent—though not like any of your parents. Your parents would have convinced you to take acid with them to deepen the family bond as you all probed through each other’s consciousness. Gross.

“Alright, alright,” he relented with a small smile. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. So… where did you get it from?” He could at least have his eye on whoever drugged his favourite second-year student—or made you so bored you thought E was the answer.

“Snitches get stitches, you know?” you shot back, leaning into the playful deflection. The truth was, you didn’t even know the guy who handed you the tiny zip bag and asked, ‘Do you want to have some fun?’ Somehow, you were convinced admitting that would only make the situation worse.

He sighed, long and exasperated, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need someone to watch over you?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a dismissive wave. “I was actually just going to… stay here and enjoy it. And frankly,” you added with a cheeky grin, “if you’re going to stay here, all sober and responsible, I think that would make me self-conscious.”

But please, stay and watch over me, Viktor. Take care of me while my body is crushed with fluff was pushing violently through your mind. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from saying it.

“I hear you loud and clear,” he said, rising from the bed. “Text me if you need something, though?” Pity. He would have gladly combed his fingers through your hair and caressed your hands, knowing that in your current state, this simple touch would bring you more pleasure than any man ever had.

“Or…” you began, your voice slow and deliberate, “you could jump in with me?”

God, yes, roared in Viktor’s brain. Yes, I’ll jump in with you. I’ll jump anywhere after you. I’ll eat your soul, and it’ll be my last meal, and I’ll die happy.

He tried to compose himself, to come off as casual. His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Are you offering drugs to your TA?”

“You make it sound like the crime of the century, Viktor,” you teased, though the words were a cover for the rising panic in your chest. What the hell had you just done? Had you really just offered your TA drugs? Were you insane? What was that expression on his face now—disbelief? Amusement? God, please don’t let it be pity. Maybe he’d be cross with you, but that might actually be easier to handle. You should’ve just asked him to stay, to bring you water periodically. That would’ve been enough. It would’ve been perfect, actually. Maybe then you could even sneak another whiff of his sweater when he wasn’t looking.

“Well,” Viktor began, his voice dry but with the faintest lilt of humour, “if we treat the university ethos as law, it is technically a crime: drug distribution, leading your classmates astray, bad influence.” He had to hold his composure. Truthfully, he was tempted to snort the entire bag in one go, just to melt into you.

“I think I missed the moment when I forced it down your throat,” you shot back, crossing your arms and meeting his gaze. His joke made you feel calmer, though. Maybe it would end there—just a funny anecdote he’d tease you with throughout the rest of your time at university. And maybe, ten years in the future at a reunion, he’d ask you, ‘Remember that one time?’

“Are you sure it’s E?” he asked, his tone neutral but inquisitive, eyes scanning your face. You were too calm for it to be E. You’d be dancing around, touching his face uncontrollably, and above all, you’d never come back to your room to enjoy solitude.

“No,” you admitted with a shrug. “But it’s really not such a big deal. No… visions. It just… feels nice.”

‘Nice’ was an understatement—it felt like being bathed in butter, like all the knots in your body had untied themselves simultaneously, while your mind retained its analytical sharpness. Or so you thought.

“I see.” His tone grew quieter, more thoughtful, and you watched him carefully as his gaze flicked to the tiny bag in your hand. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.” He silently hoped it was what he thought it was.

You hesitated but eventually held out the small zip bag with a pinch of white powder inside. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, and for a moment, you felt your breath hitch. He had such long fingers you were sure they would meet if he wrapped them around your neck. Oh, God. He tilted the bag, examining it critically, like a chemist assessing their materials.

"And how did you take it?" Viktor asked, lifting a brow. The last time, he had dissolved it in lukewarm water, as they toasted with Jayce. The taste was still unbearable, so they had to down a box of orange juice, and it still didn’t exactly help.

"I… rubbed it in my gums." You winced at the memory. "Do not recommend, though."

"Let me guess," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "It tastes like shit?"

"Worse." It tasted so much worse. Not that you had ever tasted shit in your life, but it tasted like some vile chemical trying to burn its way through your tissues. It tasted so wrong, yet it gave you so much artificial happiness afterward that you had already decided you’d be able to do it again sometime in the future.

"Ah," he nodded, a small huff of amusement escaping him. "I think I might know what this is." He paused, weighing the bag in his palm, before raising a brow at you. "Alright, ground rules if… I take it: no sex." He couldn’t. He really wanted to and really couldn’t. It would lock you both into a one-night stand while being high, and a potential future of all the stands you could be having depended on him being responsible. As much as he could be in that moment.

"You think rather much of yourself, mister!" you shot back, flustered and scrambling to cover it with mock indignation. You hadn’t thought of it once; you just wanted to curl into him and breathe in his jumper until you snorted it off of him.

"Oh, give it thirty minutes, and you will think much of me as well," he retorted, his smirk deepening into something almost smug. "But it’s more of a contract I’m making with myself while I’m still sober. And I need a witness." Good, Viktor. You deserve a medal. You deserve a girl.

"And your witness can be high, I presume?" You looked at him, amused. It was a shitty contract, but you could oblige. You already knew what you wanted from this night.

"I work with what I’ve got," he quipped, shrugging one shoulder, his tone breezy but precise.

"Alright," you sighed, rolling your eyes. "Consider your contract witnessed."

"Shake on it?" His smile was so wide you would shake on absolutely anything.

"Ugh, fine!" You extended your hand reluctantly, and his fingers wrapped around yours in a brief, firm shake. His hand was warmer than you expected, his grip steady.

"Here we go then," Viktor said, releasing your hand and sitting down beside you. Truly, here we go.

"Wait," you said, your eyes widening as he tipped a small amount of the powder onto the back of his hand. "Are you snorting it?" What the hell was this, Breaking Bad?

"I know how to take my medicine, thank you very much," he replied smoothly, his voice coloured with faint amusement. You would’ve thanked him for learning this way—the taste was almost undetectable.

"And when was the last time you’ve taken this so-called medicine, Viktor? 1976?" you teased, leaning slightly closer to watch him. You thought that if you were ever to do it again, you could lick it off his hand, and that would make the taste bearable.

He gave you a flat look before replying, "My third year, give or take. The thesis caught up with us soon after, and then, well… I had to become a well-respected TA." He delivered the last part with a hint of mockery, letting the words hang in the air.

"Did you lose with the dragon?" you asked, a grin tugging at your lips.

"Yes," he said, deadpan, the corners of his mouth twitching. "It disembowelled me and Jayce. Let me just say, it wasn’t pretty." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze still on the powder as if appraising his next move.

You bit your lip, watching him curiously, the buzz in your body softening your edges. Was this really happening? Watching Viktor—your TA, the notoriously unflappable one—do this was something you never thought you’d witness in a thousand lifetimes. Yet here he was, sleeves rolled up, calm and deliberate, like this was just another late-night experiment.

"Fuck, I’m sorry. Push it away from your mind – no dragon in sight, just me," he said, seeing your eyes widen and remembering how prone to suggestion your mind would be right now.

"See you on the other side," Viktor said, tipping his head back slightly as he snorted the powder. He blinked a few times, exhaling slowly, then turned to you with a faint, lopsided grin. "Hmm… we need some more light. And music. And… do you have any food?"

"Is everything a project with you?" you asked, a laugh slipping out despite yourself.

"I like to take as much as I can from the little moments of indulgence that are granted to me," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact, though there was a hint of something warmer beneath his words.

"Not the sex though," you shot back, folding your arms but unable to hide your teasing smirk.

"Don’t sulk. You’re going to like it," he said, brushing you off with a wave of his hand before pausing and glancing down. "Do you mind if I take this off?" Without waiting for a proper answer, he began unbuckling his leg brace, the metal joints clicking softly in the dim light.

"I don’t think there’s anything I mind at the moment, Viktor," you murmured, watching him. The deliberate way his fingers worked, the small sigh of relief he let out when the brace came free—it was unexpectedly intimate, and you felt something warm settle in your chest.

He placed the brace aside, flexing his leg experimentally before leaning back on the bed. "I will be asking you a lot of questions tonight, so you better brace yourself."

"Whaa…? I didn’t sign up for an exam!" you protested, widening your eyes in mock horror. You had already put on your comfort Spotify playlist with a lot of The Smiths and Dandy Warhols on it, and a couple of colourful dinky lights scattered around the room.

"It’s not an exam. Consider me… your guide," he said, his tone taking on a playful gravity that made you grin.

"Viktor, I’m not an E virgin. I don’t need to be handheld," you said, rolling your eyes but plopping down close to him all the same.

"It’s not handholding. And I wouldn’t doubt your expertise," he said, his voice low and steady, "but it’s not E you’ve taken."

Your brows knit together as you stared at him. "No? What is it? Are we going to die?" Your mock horror made Viktor chuckle slightly.

“It’s M. The joy of E without the speed. It’s… nice,” he explained, his words soft and unhurried. He tilted his head slightly, as though listening to something only he could hear. “And given how I am starting to feel, we have around… two, maybe three hours of this?”

Your stomach flipped at the easy confidence in his voice, at the way he seemed so utterly calm despite the strange circumstances. You shifted in your seat, trying to suppress the giddy flutter rising in your chest. “So… what do we do?”

“Nothing. Anything you want. See what you feel like,” he replied, his gaze meeting yours, steady and curious. For a moment, the room felt impossibly still, like the two of you had been suspended in time. The edges of everything softened—the glow of the lamps, the hum of the city beyond the window, even the faint buzz under your skin. It all blurred into a single, surreal moment as you looked at him.

“What I feel like…” you murmured, your voice trailing off as a sudden, uncontrollable grin spread across your face. “Alright, Viktor. Guide me.”

“Come closer,” his voice was soft as he patted a space on the bed in front of him, splaying himself on his side. You leaned in slowly, propping your head on your fist.

“May I?” His hands hovered over your face, asking non-verbal permission before he touched you. You nodded, closing your eyes, and it made Viktor smile this time. His fingertips ghosted over your cheeks and brows; a touch so gentle you could barely feel it yet felt it intensely at the same time. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Viktor spoke. “Breathe.”

“Are you nervous?” he asked, seeing you give a shaky exhale.

“No,” you lied. Your heart was thumping in your chest so loudly now that you were convinced Viktor could see the tremble in your sternum if he looked closely.

“Let’s get rid of this tension,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, cradling the base of his skull with the fingers of one hand, while the other hugged his waist tightly. You could feel his soft jumper under your palms and felt warmer as his scent filled your nostrils. You breathed him in—the body wash, the fresh laundry, his skin and clothes wrapping around you like a blanket.

He slid one hand around your back and shoulders, the other finding its way down to the base of your spine. For a fleeting moment, he had an internal struggle to resist the urge to squeeze your ass tightly. Your bodies slotted together as if it was meant to be—here, on your dorm bed, entangled together, forever. His hands kneaded at your flesh when he rolled over you swiftly, allowing his palms to travel to your ribcage, squeezing it affectionately as he pressed his face to your body and took a long, deep whiff of you. You weren’t wearing a bra, so he was painfully aware that only one layer of clothing—relatively easy to get rid of—stood between his lips and your skin. You arched into his movement, making him release an audible sigh of contentment.

“You smell nice,” he whispered against your neck and smiled as he rubbed his cheek on yours, his eyes closed, heat slowly spreading through his veins. Then, he hooked his good leg under one of your knees to feel more of you underneath him, propped his elbows on each side of your head, and dropped his forehead to rest on yours.

You looked up at him, expression unreadable, as if you were studying him. His blown pupils, gold rings around them barely visible, dark freckles on his pale skin travelling deep under the collar of his t-shirt, the sharp structure of his face softened by colourful lights, the tiny bud of flesh crowning his upper lip. You really wanted to kiss him.

He saw the flicker in your eyes, nearly completely black now, before he rolled you to the side. “Not yet,” he whispered hoarsely as he tangled your fingers together, raising your palm to his lips to place a soft, lingering kiss on your knuckles.

“Bear with me, please,” the plea in his voice tied you into knots. His touch burned you, even as slight as the feeling of his long fingers cradling your palm. His hands felt heavy on you, grounding you, keeping you safe on this ride.

“Why so cautious?” you asked, your voice soft but edged with curiosity.

“I need to brace myself here,” he replied, his tone steady yet laden with something deeper, something vulnerable. He had to be cautious. If this was the time you had sex for the first time, it would be the last. He was convinced of it. Even when his entire body screamed at him to shed his layers of clothing and just merge with you. Just drown in you.

“I remember the contract, just the reason for it… eludes me now,” you said, using his own phrasing that he so often threw at you. You managed a small, teasing smile, but it trembled at the edges.

He chuckled quietly, the sound warm and almost sheepish. “I will indulge you then. This... would either be the best or the worst we could have,” he paused, measuring his next words and deciding if it was the right place to bare himself in ways other than nudity. “And I’m not ready for either tonight,” he added, the words hanging between you, a delicate balance of truth and hesitation.

For a moment, there was silence, as the space between you stretched, and you could feel the tension in his every breath. You were starting to understand what he meant, not just in the words, but in the way his hands tightened around yours, the way his body was so close yet still holding back.

“Viktor,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended, pulling your gaze from your joined hands to meet his eyes. And God, he was so beautiful.

“Don’t think about what is not happening. Focus on this,” he said, squeezing your hand and rubbing his thumb on the heel of your palm. The touch sent a jolt through your body. “I promise, it will be good. I haven’t even kissed you yet,” he smiled, and you felt your resolve falter and shift to his side.

A quiet agreement settled between you. You wouldn’t step beyond the layers of clothing. There were so many steps still to take tonight, though. Viktor took a deep breath, partly in relief, partly to brace himself for what came next. He cradled your neck, and you wondered if his long fingers would leave a palm-shaped burn mark on your skin. His exhale washed over your face, smelling faintly of toothpaste and a man. He kissed you in slow motion, allowing you to warm up to the novelty of this touch.

You took his upper lip between yours as he slowly coaxed his tongue into your mouth. His hands travelled down to prop your bare thighs under the length of your shorts, and God, he was so happy you were wearing shorts.

He kneaded at the backs of your legs, his touch strong and confident. His mouth explored yours, licking the inner side of your lips, a faint taste of lip balm on his tongue. He bit your lower lip gently, sucking on it long enough to leave a mark that would bloom in full by morning.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, breathing through your nose, as your hips and chests met, melting together.

He let out a breathy laugh, surprising himself. “You taste like a girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and unguarded. You blinked at him, not quite understanding. What he meant was that you tasted like lip gloss and summer, like a sweet drink laced with heavy alcohol—and it was the only taste he wanted in his mouth until the end of time.

“Any girl?” you asked, shooting him a questioning glance.

Instead of explaining, he said simply, “My girl,” before sinking back down into you, his lips trailing along your neck, nipping lightly at your ear. His hips rolled against yours without meaning to, and you felt how hard he was, but you didn’t comment, respecting the boundaries you’d both agreed upon. Instead, you wrapped your legs around his waist, your warm hands sneaking underneath the layers of his woolen jumper and crisp t-shirt. His body was all sharp lines and firm muscle under your touch, flexing instinctively beneath your fingers—a striking contrast to your softness, yielding to the shapes he wanted you to take.

When you closed your eyes, the brightness behind your lids didn’t dim, but it sharpened your focus on the sweet sounds he made. The soft whimpers escaped him as he breathed you in, the slow, deep inhales he took every time his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. His hands slid gently under your sweatshirt, wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing softly, almost as if he were coaxing your heart to him. His thumbs brushed the line just beneath your breasts, making your body tense in response, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he pressed his face into your stomach, his lips lingering there in a kiss that sent warmth blooming through you—a kiss he’d wanted to give but thought impossible only an hour ago.

“I have no words to describe this feeling,” he said quietly, his head resting against your belly, his hands moving to caress your thighs. You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging gently to ease the tension from his scalp, and he let out a soft groan in response.

“Better than being eaten by a dragon?” you teased, your voice low and light as your mind wandered, overwhelmed by all the goodness surrounding you.

He propped himself up quickly, his flushed cheeks and disheveled hair framing his face. His lips were swollen from kissing, his eyes bright and loving as they locked onto yours. The sight stole your breath, and you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for listening to him, for letting this moment happen.

“You have no idea,” he replied, a smile breaking through.

Your bodies resumed their slow, unhurried dance, a rhythm built not on urgency but on the quiet comfort of simply being together. He held you close, his hands moving in soft strokes up and down your back, drawing you tighter against him. The warmth between you felt like a steady, glowing fire, soothing and constant. Your fingers found their way back into his hair, and you kissed him again, slow and tender, each lingering touch a wordless promise you both understood.

The intimacy felt endless, as if nothing outside this moment existed. His heart beat steadily beneath your palm, a rhythm that matched your own, and you let out a contented sigh as you melted into him. Viktor’s breath slowed and deepened, syncing with yours, his chest rising and falling against you. The space between your lips disappeared again, the softest whisper of air passing as you kissed, savoring the connection like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Time blurred, stretching and bending until it felt infinite, a luxury you didn’t dare question. The soft sounds of your kisses filled the quiet room, the outside world forgotten. You felt him smile against your lips, his hands cradling your face, his thumbs brushing the edges of your jaw with a tenderness that sent your heart racing.

Eventually, the kisses slowed, and he rested his forehead against yours, your faces inches apart, your eyes closed. A pleasant heaviness settled over both of you, the high of the moment fading but leaving behind a sense of peace. Your jaw ached faintly from the constant kissing, but you didn’t care. Viktor, too, seemed to feel the weight of exhaustion creeping in, though his arms stayed tight around you, unwilling to let go just yet.

As the faint strains of I Love You by The Dandy Warhols played softly in the background, the last remnants of the high dissolved into a quiet contentment. His breath evened out, his hand resting warm and steady on your back. You let yourself drift, your head nestled against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it lulled you toward sleep.

The last thing you remembered before the world faded completely was the warmth of his arms holding you close, his presence wrapping around you like a shield. Nothing could pull you apart—not in this moment, not ever. And with that, you both surrendered to the embrace of sleep, the quiet comfort of each other’s existence the only thing that mattered.

[thef1diary]

🐎 new nonnie here

What if the reader discovers an old photograph of ghost!max and she started to touch herself at the photographand ghost!max was watching 🤭

— hi nonnie! Welcome welcome, hope to see you drop more filth in my inbox soon since this idea had me reeling for a while, holy fuckkk 😵‍💫 18+ content below

The attic was almost suffocating, its air thick with dust and the scent of aged wood. You hadn’t intended to stay long, just long enough to see if there was anything worth saving among the forgotten relics. Most of it seemed unremarkable—tattered books, dusty bookshelves and old trunks that were filled with items you didn’t have the energy to sort through just yet. But then you found it, tucked under a heavy cloth that caught your attention for reasons you couldn’t explain.

Your fingers trembled as you pulled the fabric away, uncovering an ornate frame, gilded in a way that spoke of another era. Your breath hitched once you spotted the engraving, your pulse quickening as you read the name etched in bold letters at the base: Max Verstappen.

You hadn’t known what to expect beneath the cloth, but it wasn’t this. The photograph beneath the glass was still crisp, almost haunting in its clarity. You sucked in a breath as you took him in—standing beside a sleek Formula 1 car. His race suit was unzipped, resting on his hips while the fireproofs stretched tightly across his body, showcasing his athletic build. His hair was a bit disheveled, as though he’d just pulled off his helmet, and his expression was pure arrogance, the smirk tugging at his lips sharp enough to cut.

But it was his eyes that held you captive. Blue and impossibly vivid. You’d never pictured them when you’d met him as a ghost; the faint outline of his presence had never given you such details. Yet now, staring into the photograph, they were unforgettable, piercing through time and space as though he was staring directly at you.

Your fingers brushed over the glass, tracing the curve of his jaw, the line of his smirk. A warmth spread through you, pooling low in your belly as you imagined what he must have been like in life—cocky, confident, utterly magnetic.

“Guess I always had a feeling you’d be hot, but not this hot,” you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.

Your gaze lingered on the photograph, forgetting about the reason behind your attic visit as you felt the heat of arousal curl through you. The longer you stared, the harder it was to resist the pull of him, the fantasy that began to unfold in your mind. He was beautiful in a way that shouldn’t have been fair, and you cannot believe you hadn’t gotten a chance to see him, to feel him when he was alive.

Before you could think better of it, your hand slid beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers seeking the ache building between your thighs. You circled your clit slowly, your breaths growing heavier as your gaze remained locked on his image.

“Max,” you whispered, a plea as you slipped a finger inside yourself, imagining it was him. You could’ve called him, could’ve felt his ghostly fingers bring you over the edge just like you wanted. But you didn’t. No, this moment was for you and Max—the “real” photographed Max. You pictured how he’d smirk and how he’d look down at you as he took you apart.

The room grew colder, a chill that prickled your skin, but you didn’t notice. You were too far gone, too caught up in the way your body responded to your own touch, your mind lost in the fantasy of Max’s physical presence.

What you didn’t see was the faint outline that formed in the corner of the room, the way the air shifted subtly, charged with energy. He was there, watching. Silent, still, his gaze fixed on you as you writhed on the floor of the attic, your fingers thrusting inside yourself, your breathy moans filling the space.

He didn’t speak—he couldn’t. The spirit box you used to communicate with him was downstairs, forgotten. But he didn’t need words. His presence was tangible, even if you hadn’t noticed him.

Your movements grew frantic, your free hand clutching the frame of the photograph as though grounding yourself in the image of him. Your thumb brushed his engraved name again, a whispered, “Max,” falling from your lips as you teetered on the edge.

He watched as your body arched, as your cries filled the room, your orgasm washing over you in trembling waves. His outline flickered in the corner of the room, the air crackling faintly with unspoken energy, as though he was responding to your pleasure in the only way he could.

When your breathing finally slowed, your hand fell away, trembling with the aftershocks. You glanced at the photograph one last time, searing Max’s blue eyes into your memory for when you feel his ghostly presence again.

Even as the waves of satisfaction ebbed, leaving your body warm and languid, an ache remained—a deeper, sharper yearning that settled in your chest, because now that you knew what he looked like, you knew you could never truly sate the hollow ache of never having met him, never feeling the heat of his flesh against yours.

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[b1rds3ye]

Mask On

How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)

Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read

A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤

Captain John Price

The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally

But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier

It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141

But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease

Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it

If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes

Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle

“Looking fresh, sergeant.”

You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.

Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).

And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.

“Thanks, Captain.”

He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’ll keep it.”

You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.

“For what?”

“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”

You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done

Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield

However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing

He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin

Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable

It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered

If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort

A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.

When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.

Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.

“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.

“Thanks.”

Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.

Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.

“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.

And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends

Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day

“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”

And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face

When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)

He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter

If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered

Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.

“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”

“You got a mask?”

There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.

“You bet.”

You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.

Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.

“Is that… mine?”

“Was yours.”

You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.

That was your first mistake.

You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.

But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.

“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”

“Wear it.”

You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.

“We’re a team, aye?”

“You bet.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you

Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back

It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now

He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it

Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine

Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared

If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day

After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.

He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.

There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.

With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.

The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.

“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.

“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Comfort Crowd

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: dean just needs you next to him

pairing: (stanford era) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language 

word count: 1.9k

warnings: hurt/sad dean, language, reader drives after drinking but she’s not drunk, that’s it i think

author’s note: i know this gif is of jason teague and not dean winchester but that’s literally samford era jackles so i think it fits perfectly <3

music: comfort crowd by conan gray — was listening to conan gray and bam! dean winchester fic idea! anyways…

When you saw who was calling your brows furrowed — Dean? You had talked to him earlier in the week, just a casual check-in to make sure you were both still alive. You and Dean had gotten into a fight about a month prior and you both decided to just take a break from each other. You had made it clear that you were not breaking up with him, you just needed a break.

Last time you talked he was working a case in Texas, something with ghouls and sororities. You had just finished up a werewolf hunt and he had voiced his jealousy. He hadn’t gotten to fight a werewolf in many, many moons (pun intended).

“Dean?” you answered the call, still holding your first beer of the night in your free hand. He didn’t say anything, there was only labored breathing on the other side and that worried you. “Dean? Honey, is everything okay?” He still said nothing. “Dean, what’s—”

“Where are you?” he asked. His voice was clearly on the verge of cracking. He’d been crying?

“Uh, Bakersfield California,” you told him. “Just finished another case, simple ghost hunt. What’s wrong, Dean?” He again went back to just breathing. “Dean, where are you?”

“I’m in Palo Alto,” he said. “You—Could you get up here, p-please? I need you, hun. I just—I need you here.”

“I’ll be right there Dean, four hours tops,” you told him. You stood up off your chair and paid your tab. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t…fuck, I just wanna see you…please?”

“Of course, Dean, I’ll be there soon,” you reminded him. “What motel are you staying at?”

“I can text you the address just please…please hurry.”

With that, he hung up. 

Please don’t be dying, you thought to yourself. 

**

After several traffic violations and broken speed limits, you were finally knocking on his door.

“Dean!” you called out, not caring if it was now nearly three in the morning and there were definitely other people staying at the motel. “For the love of god Dean, open the fucking door!”

He unlocked and opened the door, rubbing his tired eyes. “Hey, you made it.” He smiled a little…smiled?

“Dean what the hell is going on?” you asked, trying to stay calm as you walked into the room. “You—That call? What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” You furrowed your brows. “Dean you called me in tears and asked me to race over here as if you were dying?”

“I…I wasn’t in tears,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hang on…how do I know you’re you?” you asked. 

He smiled and rolled his eyes a little before you both did the usual tests.

“See, sweetheart? All me!” He smiled again.

“Dean,” you said softly, “what’s going on? Are you…Are you dying?”

“No!” he scoffed, not calming your nerves in the slightest. “I’m sorry I scared you I just…needed you here. With me, next to me. I—Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Dean,” you shook your head, “I get it.”

You walked over to him and pulled him down into a hug; your right hand went to the back of his head as your fingers combed through his hair. 

“I’m here Dean, you’re okay,” you told him. His grip tightened around you, as if he was scared you’d break off the hug. “I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking again. “Thank you.” 

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. You were on your tiptoes, which was kind of uncomfortable, but your love for the man in your arms outweighed any discomfort. You felt Dean’s tears begin to dampen your neck and your eyes grew cloudy at the thought of him in pain. He truly mastered the art of silent crying, he must’ve had to hide his tears from that bastard father of his growing up, and that thought only made your heart break more. Your grip tightened around his shoulders and you turned your head so you could place a soft kiss on his temple. You made a trail of kisses down to his jawline then left your lips there against his skin. 

“Thank you,” he pulled away, “just…thanks.”

“Do you wanna lay down, Dean?” you asked. “We could cuddle up and maybe watch a movie? Or we could listen to music? I’ve got my iPod and we could share my earbuds?”

A soft smile returned to his tear-stained face and he nodded; “Music sounds perfect.”

“Mkay,” you replied. “Now, I have to admit I don’t have many Zeppelin songs downloaded—”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head, “I don’t care what song we play, as long…as long as you’re here. Just need your company.”

“Funnily enough, I do have some Bad Company songs,” you joked, causing his smile to grow. 

“You’re the best company,” he countered. 

“Why don’t you change into your PJs while I go get my bags from the car? We can get comfortable in the bed and maybe you’ll even get some sleep.”

**

Your fingers were once again tangled in Dean’s hair as his head lay on your chest, he was facing away from you but you knew he was still crying. You just didn’t know why.

“Is this Heuy Lewis?” Dean chuckled.

“Hey! No disrespecting Heuy!” you laughed, but Dean knew you were serious. “You want me to skip it?”

“Nah, I’ll live,” he joked. The joke made your heart clench a little though; your mind going back to the call he made to you a mere few hours ago. How scared he sounded. How scared you were as you raced to get to him. Dean must’ve sensed the change in the room because he made sure to remind you; “I’m fine.”

“You said that line already, Dean,” you said through a sigh. “I’m here if you wanna talk, okay?”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he mumbled. “I meant what I said—I just need you here with me, I just need you around.” 

Your free hand (the one that wasn’t currently in Dean’s hair) went to rub comforting circles on his upper back. He let out a contented sigh which made you smile.

“I love you, Dean,” you told him. “I love you more than anything, you know that, right?”

“Thank you,” he mumbled. He buried his face against your chest, trying to hide the sheepish smile forcing its way onto his face before he lifted his head so he could look into your eyes. “I love you so much.”

He leaned over and kissed you softly, his smile connecting with yours. He pulled away after a moment, simply looking into your eyes. He kissed you once more before laying back down, this time resting his head next to yours so he could kiss you again. 

“Sorry about your shirt,” he said, laughing awkwardly at the damp mess of spilled tears covering a fair portion of your tee.

“I don’t mind, kinda like my shirt soggy,” you shrugged with a smile, pulling him closer to you and tucking your head under his chin. 

**

When you woke the next morning you did not expect Dean to be singing to himself while making breakfast.

“What time is it?” you asked with a yawn as you sat up in bed. 

“About seven,” he replied. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

You hurried over to the small kitchen so you could wrap your arms around him from behind.

“What’s gotten into you?” he teased. 

“Could ask you the same question, handsome,” you replied, not letting go. “The food smells amazing and all, but since when do you cook?”

“Remember that fight we had?”

“I vaguely recall,” you said, somewhat flatly. 

“I’ve been working on my breakfast cooking so when I saw you again I could you know…woo you.”

“‘Woo me’?” You raised a brow, your smile growing. “You’re wooing me…with bacon?”

“Damn right!” he scoffed lightheartedly. “I know the way into your heart, and whether you admit it or not—it’s mother fuckin’ breakfast food.”

“You know me way too well,” you laughed. “I’m officially wooed.”

There was a comfortable silence before Dean answered the question he knew you were still wondering about; “Sam and I fought last night.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I knew him going to a fancy college would put a bit of a rift between us…but fuck, sweetheart,” he said. He ran his hands down his face before he leaned against the counter and looked at you; “I think we…I don’t think Sammy and I will ever be as close as we were growin’ up ever again.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Dean,” you assured him, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Sammy just needs time, maybe a bit of space, but that’s only temporary, Dean.”

“Seems like everyone around me always needs space,” he chuckled humorously. 

“If this is about what I said—”

“Nah, you don’t have to explain yourself, I get it!” He shook his head, faking a smile. “You couldn’t stand being around me all the time and hey, that’s okay.”

Your brows furrowed with slight anger; “That’s not what I said, Dean.”

“That’s what it sounded like,” he mumbled before he turned back to the stove to continue making breakfast. 

“Dean I love you, you know I love you!” you said. “I raced here last night when you asked me to, doesn’t that prove I love you!?”

“And what happens when we get into another fight?” he exclaimed. “What happens when you decide that you need more space and you don’t bother coming back to me?”

“That’s not going to happen?” you countered. 

“You can’t say that for sure,” Dean said. 

“Yes I can, Dean!”

“What makes you think that, huh?” he replied loudly. “What makes you think you aren’t gonna run the second you realize that putting space between was the best decision of your fucking life!?”

“Because I love you, Dean!” you said, matching his tone. “Because no matter how far away I was from you the one thought running through my head was that I should call you. That I should stop being so stubborn and run back to you.” You sighed as he continued cooking and you went up to him again, leaning on his bicep and running your hands up and down his forearm. “Because when I got that call…all logic flew out the window and all that mattered to me was getting to you. When I thought you might be dying I didn’t care about anything else and I raced to you like a mad woman. Like a girl so lovestruck she’s practically crazy!”

Dean let out a chuckle which made you smile.

“So…you’re sayin’ you missed me?” he asked, a cocky smirk finding its way to his lips.

“Yes,” you sighed dramatically. “Okay? Yes, Dean, I missed you like fuckin’ crazy, and I’m sorry for ever suggesting we take a damn break. But… you know what this means now, right?”

He looked at you cautiously; “What?”

“You’re stuck with me, Winchester.” You grinned. “And I’m never letting you go again.”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied as he leaned down and kissed you.

[cheolhub]

WHAT YOU NEED — JEON WONWOO ࿐

summary. wonwoo knows how shy you get telling him what you want, but he’ll get you to use your words one way or another.

wc. 2.5k

warnings. mean-ish soft dom!wonwoo, sub! reader, corruption kink + slight humiliation kink! lots of teasing from wonwoo, lots of begging from reader, pet names [love, baby, sweet girl], dirty talk [😵‍💫], possessiveness (reader is so into it), heavy praise, unprotected sex, creampie — MINORS DNI 18+

note. it’s been months… hellooo… i forgot how to write so forgive me for the shitty plot lol. this is me attempting to get back into the writing world 🤓 hopefully ONE of u enjoys this <3 p.s. i’m srsly in my wonu era

“remember what i said, love,” wonwoo murmured, soft lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “if you want something, you gotta use your words.”

you hated this– everything about this– the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice that shoots heat straight to your core, him in general. he’s well aware of the fact that you can’t stand it at this moment, but that doesn’t put an end to his teasing. 

your back arches off his chest as you feel the ghost of his fingers over your painfully wet cunt, covered in a pair of cotton panties. “wonwoo…” you whine, eyes brimming with tears of frustration. “please…”

he merely chuckles, pressing a kiss to the skin under your ear. “please what?”

when you and wonwoo started dating, you were so shy. so shy and so, so sweet. you’d never been with anyone before him, and of course he felt bad that he was the one to rob you of your innocence, but he was filled with a sense of pride (and urgency) when he’d found out he was the one to corrupt you and ruin you for everyone else. 

and he was gentle. yes, jeon wonwoo was so, very gentle, handling you like a pretty doll while coaxing orgasms out of you left and right with his hands and mouth till your body was slack and you were nothing but a puddle of tears. he got you ready for his cock and you took it well. then you took it again. and again. and again, till you and him both knew you were his and he was yours. 

it got to the point where you’d crave him at the most inconvenient times. while you were running errands, at work, at dinner with your friends– it was almost insufferable. 

but he always took care of you. all you had to do was ask and he’d be there at your beck and call with whatever you wanted, whether it was with his mouth, fingers or cock. 

he always makes you ask because wonwoo’s taken a certain… liking… to making  you say the filthiest things. he knows it makes you nervous, but that’s why he thinks he loves it. he loves your stammering and how he can feel the heat radiating from your body. it’s cute.

which is why you’re in your current predicament, sat between his legs, your own spread over his with your back pressed to his chest after sending an innocent ‘come over, please? <3’ text. 

“don’t make me say it, won… it’s…it’s unbecoming. just… please.”

usually, he’s not so adamant on getting you to say exactly what you want. all you had to do was say please, and he was all yours. 

but no, not today apparently. 

“there’s nothing unbecoming about it, my love.” he noses at your neck, his breath fanning over your racing pulse and eliciting your soft shudder. “just tell me what you invited me over for and i’ll give it to you.”

“please… touch me.” you whisper, heat creeping from where his lips are on your to neck all the way up to the tips of your ears. 

you can feel his shit-eating grin and you want to scream at him, but your need for him is much more profound than your desire to slap him in the face for teasing you to this extent. 

his hands rub up and down your arms and you hear his smile when he asks, “like this?”

you groan, shaking your head, “you know what i mean!” 

“i don’t know what you mean, actually. can you dumb it down for me?” 

you mentally curse him out, but you try to steady your breathing before you speak again. “touch me… down… there.” you attempt to say, but it comes out as more of a squeak.

wonwoo’s uncharacteristically large hands find your tummy and you want to sob when he asks, “here?” you shake your head. “words.” the demand vibrates through you and you let you an embarrassing whimper.

“lower,” you whisper, unable to trust your voice. “please, wonwoo.”

he runs his fingers down your abdomen and trails them down your thighs. you can’t help the cry that leaves your mouth. “mean. you’re so mean.”

“you can say it, sweet girl.” he whispers. “it’s not unbecoming. it’s not inappropriate. it’s fucking hot. i want you to tell me exactly what you want and i swear to god i’ll give it to you.”

you sniffle, frustrated and slightly embarrassed, but you stutter out in the softest voice he’s ever heard you use, “please touch my pussy, wonwoo.”

you think it feels awkward and gross coming out of your mouth with your voice, but wonwoo… wonwoo groans, hand immediately slipping into your panties. “good fucking girl.” he grumbles as his fingers find your clit. 

you jolt at the contact but melt into him just as quickly. “fuck,” you whimper, thankful that you’re finally receiving the touch you’ve been craving for the past half hour. “f-faster, please.”

wonwoo’s chest swells with that familiar sense of pride again as he hears your beg. he obliges, the rough pads of his fingers circling the swollen, pleading bud. “you’re so fucking wet…”

you moan, head falling back on his shoulder. your face burns like never before as you get out, “f-for… you. ‘m wet for you.”

wonwoo isn’t always vocal, but when he is? he’s loud. so the moan that slips from his mouth startles you a bit. 

“that’s right, all for me.” he grunts, possessiveness lacing his voice causing the jostling of butterflies in your tummy. “all fucking mine, forever mine.”

you change your mind at this– you love the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice, him especially. 

“always yours.” you nod vigorously, body writhing as he quickens the movement of his fingers. 

wonwoo doesn’t have much self-control when it comes to you, so it’s taking everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you till all you can say is yours, yours, always yours. instead, he opts for trying to get more out of your pretty mouth. “how do you feel, baby? tell me how much you like my fingers playing with this pretty little cunt.”

it’s so filthy, but you can’t help but arch your back at the sound of his words. “love them s’much, wonwoo. feels s’good.”

he’s sure you do feel good, he’s a skilled man after all, but he knows you probably need more. 

“yeah?” he responds breathily, cock aching at the validation and how pretty you sound saying his name. “this enough to make you cum, or do you want more?”

your brain fogs over at the thought of more. you can nearly taste ecstasy on the tip of your tongue and you don’t doubt that you could get off with just his fingers, yet… the idea of being filled to the brim with his fingers or his cock is much more compelling. 

“more.” you breathe in reply. 

“what was that?” he teases, fingers slowing down. 

there’s that wicked sense of humor that makes you want to slap him across the face.

you barred your teeth before gritting, “fuck me, please. i need more. i need you, wonwoo.”

his ministrations stop and before you get the chance to complain, he’s rolling your panties down your legs and guiding you to straddle his abdomen. he slips his sweats down enough for his cock to come out and, even though you can’t see it, you can feel its looming presence. 

“take what’s yours, baby.” he stares up at you while you stare back, eyes wide. 

“y-you… you want me to…?” he knows what your unfinished question translates to and he nods and gives you a lazy smile even though you can see the burning desire in his blown out pupils.

you let out a short breath and nod, more to yourself than anything. he’s never let you have control while you’re on top, but you feel giddy that he’s giving you a chance now. you lift your hips up and take a hold of his hardened length in your hands. you run the blushy tip of his cock through your folds, eliciting a hiss from the man under you, before finally sliding down his cock. slowly, you feel every inch of him invade your pussy and it’s so good, despite the slight burn.

you forget how tight the fit is every time. even with how wet you are, you still feel your walls stretching to accommodate his size. 

you cry softly, body going limp as you finally hit the base of his cock. “won…”

“you feel so good,” he moans softly, hands finding purchase on your hips. “are you alright? does it hurt?” he manages to ask, cock twitching at the way your walls wrap around him.

you shake your head incessantly, hoping he doesn’t worry too much. “no– no, ‘m okay. j-just need to adjust.”

wonwoo nods empathetically, rubbing soothing circles into your skin to ease you. “you’re doing so well.” he whispers after a minute of silence, the only sounds being your ragged breaths and the soft hum of the air conditioning. “gonna make sure you feel so good, baby.”

you feel the heat reappear and a gush of arousal leak at the praise in his hushed voice. it inspires you to take action. 

you press your palms to his clothed abdomen, wishing he’d taken off his shirt so you can feel his skin, but you can’t be bothered to ask him to do so now. you lift your hips up his cock before letting yourself drop, a moan tumbling out of your mouth when you feel how deep he is inside you. 

you repeat the sloppy movements, stangled moans slipping with every sharp thrust as you spear yourself on his length over and over. 

it’s not till wonwoo guides you with the tight grip of his hands on your waist that you find a steady tempo, the sound of skin on skin growing louder with the mixed sounds of his grunts and your mewls. 

you slip your hands under his shirt, craving the closeness, and lightly run your nails down the skin. you feel him contract under the contact and you can’t stop the way your walls tighten around him when his hands squeeze you harder. 

the longer you ride him, the more your thighs burn. it eventually causes your speed to falter and wonwoo, ever the observer, is quick to notice. he decides you’ve had enough and bucks his hips into you, meeting you halfway while groaning out your name. 

the bulbous head of his cock rams into your sweet, special spot as he takes over and you throw your head back in utmost pleasure. tears spring to your eyes and wonwoo finds this to be the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid his eyes on. your tits bouncing with every push, your mouth cracked open as the prettiest sounds leave it, the way your eyebrows knit in pleasure– he makes a mental note to bring his camera next time you invite him over. 

“tell me what you need, love.” he demands yet again, words breathy and clipped as his cock throbs in between your velvet walls. “tell me what this pretty pussy needs and i’ll fucking give it to you.” his sentence ends in a growl when your nails bite into his bare skin, leaving red, crescent shapes in their wake. 

you let out a choked sob, “w-wonu–”

he sits up, using his strength to bounce you up and down at a leisure pace– one that he knows does nothing for your needy body. “don’t get shy on me now, baby, you can tell me.” he coaxes, sultry voice circling your brain. 

you swear if your body burns any hotter, you’ll explode.

your mouth opens to let out a plea, “p-please make me cum– please, i-i wanna–” your words are swallowed by him as he smashes his lips to yours. you moan his name into his mouth and he all but moans back into yours. 

you involuntarily clench around him when he hastily bucks into you while also guiding your hips on his cock. when he pulls back, he sports swollen lips and lust-ridden eyes and it makes you all the more needy for your coveted release. 

“rub your clit and get yourself off for me, yeah?” you pants before his mouth lands on one of your breasts, sucking and tugging at the peaked nipple. 

you follow instructions, two of your fingers moving to circle the swollen bud and your free hand gripping his shoulder for more support. 

at the onslaught of pleasure, the knot that’s been rapidly forming in your tummy all night tightens beyond belief and you know you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. wonwoo, being as perceptive as he is, just moans at the way you pulse uncontrollably around his cock. 

if you’ve learned anything from the teasing and the rather humbling experience you’ve had tonight, it’s that you should definitely voice what you want. 

and that’s exactly what you do. 

“i– fuck, wonwoo. i need to cum, please let me.” you beg as you get closer and closer to your anticipated release. 

he releases your nipple with a pop and nearly growls. “cum for me, baby.” 

it’s all you need to hear before a silent scream leaves your lips and white, hot pleasure runs its course. your body goes taut as the tether in your belly snaps in half, cunt and body practically spasming all the while your brain spins erratically. 

wonwoo is enthralled by the sight and feeling of you. the grip he has on you is near bruising as he watches you fall apart on him– feels you fall apart on him. 

“so beautiful,” he praises, voice strained as he nears his own release. “my beautiful girl. you’re so fucking good for me, you know that?” he rambles, cock twitching as you let out more whines and whimpers.

“c-cum in me.” you demand, voice broken and hoarse from all the screaming. “i-i wanna feel it. i need to.”

an animalistic growl bubbles in the back of his throat and his slow pace and sweet praise disappears, replaced by an unforgiving speed at which he pounds into you. you’re back to broken moans as he lets out labored pants till, shortly after, he’s stills inside of you, cock nestled at your hilt and he’s releasing his warm load inside of your battered walls. 

you collapse on top of him, savoring the feeling of his warmth inside of you. 

“did i hurt you?” he whispers after a few minutes of unsteady breathing from the both of you. 

you shake your head. “just my dignity,” you joke softly, resting your forehead against his. “i’m alright, don’t worry.”

he chuckles, cupping your cheek and running the pad of his thumb over the dried tear streaks, “i was a bit mean, huh?”

“so mean.” you tease, kissing the corner of his mouth. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“beyond lucky.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

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[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

My 67 year old mother watched RHRN for the first time last night. I thought I would share some gems that came outta that:

Her: "He doesn't actually... that's not how he actually talks is it?" Me: "No no. Just imagine a Swedish dude, speaking English, pretending to be Italian." Her: "Oh, so that's why he sounds annoying. Ok!"

Her: "....is he gay?" Me: "No, he's married and has kids." Her: "Do his kids know what he does for a living? Can you imagine at school: 'My dads a firefighter, my dad's a doctor, my dad's a paramedic.. my dad's a satanic cult leader!' "

More below the cut!

*After If You Have Ghosts* Her: "Ok, that song was reaaaaalllyy pretty. I really liked that. He did a really good job." Me: "You hated it when I played it before." Her: "Yeah well... I don't actually like Ghost, so."

Her: "I know that one is Mountain, and there's a Swiss, and a Rain... cause every time I open the fridge to make a sandwich, or it's raining outside I'm reminded." Me: "I'm so proud. You're only missing the two guitarists." (She only likes the ghouls... don't come for me) Her: *Very confidently* "Alpha and Omega!" Me: "Um..." Her, laughing: "...no? Wrong era?" Me: "Phan–" Her: "PHANTOM! And the angry one I can never remember."

*Copia standing next to Dew* Her: Wow, he's really small isn't he? Me: Who? Dew or Copia cause either one would be an accurate observation.

Her: "Is he wearing contacts?" Me: "Yeah just the one, the white one." Her: "I just noticed." Me: "........... you JUST noticed?!" Her: "Only cause it's up close!" Me: "I hate to blow your mind.... but ALL the Papa's have a white eye. Even Nihil (her fav)" Her: "Really 👀 ?!"

Her: "Huh..." Me: "What?" Her: "I just noticed they have horns."

Her: "I think his pants are my favourite part about him." Me: "You just like the crotch corset." Her: "Nooo.... He has a nice ass too." *moments later* Her: "Why can't the ghouls have tight pants?!"

Her: "Don't their helmets ever fall off? Y'know when they start gettin into it, do they ever just 'whoops!' "

Her: *Sitting on the couch, humming, dancing and tapping her foot to Spillways* Me: I thought you didn't like Ghost?? Her: *Immediately stops* Well... y'know *starts dancing again and singing the correct lyrics*

Her: "Thats the end? They're not going to do right here, right now?" Me: "You mean Square Hammer?" Her: "Yeah the right here, right now song. Whatever it's actually called." Me: "When have you ever heard of a band not doing an encore?" Her: "Oh good. I was about to get upset. I love that song!"

*after the post credits scene* Her: "Wait, so thats it? Do we know who the new Papa is?" Me: "No! Thats the worst part about it!" Her: "Maybe it'll be a Mama instead" Me: *dies of laughter*

--- Anyways, Ghesties please protect my mum. She's trying lol If I can think of more moments from last night, I will add them!

[mandalhoerian]

( CALL OFF YOUR GHOST )

PAIRING: Leon S. Kennedy x OC

SHIP TROPES: Came Back Wrong x Unchanged but Damaged, Ghost of a Past Flame x Haunted by Their Memory, The Professional x The Wild Card, Grumpy x Sunshine, The Cat With Nine Lives x The Dog Who Never Stopped Waiting, Agent of Chaos x Reluctant Softie

READ PREQUEL 'NO TIME TO DIE' HERE !

READ ON AO3 ! | VERA KAPLAN TAG !

Five years after Raccoon City, Leon Kennedy’s life has narrowed to one relentless mission: dismantling Umbrella and exterminating the nightmares they’ve unleashed. Haunted by the horrors of that night—and by Vera Kaplan refusing to call off her ghost—he’s locked in a war with no end in sight. But when his latest assignment puts him on a collision course with "Gravedigger," an elite Umbrella operative who cuts down every lead AUPIT follows, Leon comes face-to-face with the impossible: his ghost has returned, not as a memory, but as a revenant. Once his closest ally and the epicenter of his grief, Vera now stands at the top of Umbrella’s food chain, her genius weaponized as a ruthless enforcer erasing Umbrella’s loose ends and anyone who gets in her way. Torn between the girl she was and the weapon she's become, Leon is presented with a particularly emotion-based burden of decision making that's out of the question to someone of his position. Either shut his head off, do his damn job like he always does and walk away in preparation for the next mission—but lose her again, this time for good, or follow his gut after the one truth he’s come to resent about her that day in 1998: Vera Kaplan never runs out of well-intentioned secrets.

( Work in Progress! )

[template]

[raekensluver]

moonlit confessions

description: connecting with theodore nott after escaping the chaos of a slytherin rager.

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

contains: partying, late night confessions, drinking, mentions of alcohol, smoking.

song rec: i'm yours by isabel larosa- "nervous, trip over my words, you're so pretty it hurts."

w.c: 1.4k

an: in my slump era....

the room was a blur of motion and color, the air thick with the scent of spilled alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke. the pulse of the music thrummed through the floorboards, setting a rhythm that seemed to dictate the movements of the slytherin students as they danced and cheered. you leaned against the cool stone wall, watching the game of beer pong unfold with a detached amusement. mattheo and blaise were a formidable team, their laughter echoing off the walls as they scored point after point, while pansy and draco's competitive banter added a sharp edge to the atmosphere. it was the kind of party that you used to love, but tonight, it all felt a bit too much.

you decided to take a break from the chaos, making your way through the crowded room, looking for a familiar face. your eyes scanned over the faces, some flushed with excitement, others with the beginnings of a hangover. lorenzo berkshire caught your gaze from across the room, his dark eyes twinkling as he leaned in to whisper something to the girl he was flirting with. you rolled your eyes and continued your search for theo, wondering if he had retreated to one of the quieter corners to escape the cacophony.

as you moved through the party, the twins, fred and george, intercepted you with mischievous grins. "looking for someone?" fred asked, his hand offering you a beer. you took it, smiling politely. "theo nott," you replied. "ah, the mysterious one," george said with a wink. "last we saw, he was playing hide and seek with a group of his adoring fans." they both chuckled, their playful teasing a welcome distraction.

you thanked them and continued your search, the music's bassline vibrating in your chest. the party was in full swing, but theo's usual charm and presence were nowhere to be found. the crowd grew denser, a mix of laughter and shouts as the game grew more intense. you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve and turned to see luna lovegood, her eyes wide with curiosity. "have you seen theo?" you asked, raising your voice over the din. she tilted her head, considering for a moment before pointing towards the balcony doors. "i think he went outside," she said, her voice delicate as ever.

you pushed through the crowd and stepped into the cool night air, the stark contrast from the stuffy room making you gasp for breath. the moon was high and full, casting a soft glow over the grounds. you spotted theo immediately, leaning against the castle wall, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. he looked lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

his posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his shoulders that spoke of his discomfort with the raucous festivities inside. you approached him slowly, the gravel crunching under your feet. "mind if i join?" you called out, your voice low and gentle. he glanced over, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "thought you'd be in there, cheering for the champs," he said, nodding towards the party.

you took a seat beside him, the cold stone wall biting into your back. "not really my scene tonight," you confessed, taking a sip of the beer that had grown warm in your hand. "yeah, me neither," theo said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. the silence between you grew comfortable, filled only by the distant sound of the party and the occasional hoot of an owl.

theo's eyes flickered to you, the embers of his cigarette casting a warm glow on his face. "you okay?" he asked, his voice genuinely concerned. you shrugged, feeling the weight of the night's expectations lifting. "just needed some fresh air," you replied, watching as he exhaled a plume of smoke. the air around you felt charged, as if the very molecules were holding their breath.

his gaze searched yours for a moment before he spoke again. "it's not easy, is it?" theo said, breaking the silence. "keeping up with all of this." you knew he wasn't just talking about the party. the unspoken understanding between you grew stronger with every shared glance. "sometimes i feel like i'm drowning," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette. "i know what you mean," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. the warmth of his hand found yours, and for a moment, you felt like you weren't alone in the sea of noise and expectations. "theo," you began, but he leaned in, cutting off your words with a kiss.

his lips were warm and firm, the taste of tobacco faint on his breath. his ring clad hand slid up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he was afraid you would slip away. you felt your heart stutter in your chest, the suddenness of the kiss taking you by surprise. but you didn't pull away. instead, you melted into him, the warmth of his embrace a comfort you hadn't realized you needed.

his thumb traced gentle circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. theo's other hand rested on your hip, grounding you as the world around you faded away. the music and the laughter were just a distant echo, the only sounds that of your mingled breaths and the crackle of the cigarette between you. it was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party just a few feet away.

you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and your eyes wide with surprise. "theo," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. he looked at you, his own eyes dark with something unreadable. "yeah?" he responded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk that was all too familiar.

you opened your mouth to speak, but the words got tangled in your throat. his beauty had always been a silent punch to the gut, leaving you struggling to breathe, let alone form coherent sentences. "you're just… so pretty," you stumbled out, your eyes flicking down to his chest, where his shirt lay open, revealing a hint of his collarbones. it was a clumsy compliment, but it was all you could manage.

theo chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "thanks," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. he took another drag of his cigarette, the orange ember burning brightly in the dark. "you're not so bad yourself," he added with a wink. the confidence in his voice made your cheeks burn even hotter.

you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting to him. the warmth of his body was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it, craving more of his touch. his hand on your neck had left a trail of fire, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if he kissed you again.

the silence stretched out, filled with unspoken thoughts and racing hearts. you felt your cheeks heat up as you stumbled over your words, trying to find the right ones to express the tumult of emotions churning inside you. "theo, i… i just…" your voice trailed off, and you bit your lower lip, feeling your heart thud in your chest.

his smirk softened into a gentle smile, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. the touch sent an electric jolt through you, and you leaned into it, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he was thinking. "i know," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul. "i feel the same."

you took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne and the night air swirling around you. it was a heady combination, making you feel both lightheaded and grounded at the same time. the party inside beckoned, the music and laughter a siren's call that you couldn't ignore. "we should get back," you murmured, not really wanting to leave the sanctuary of his arms but knowing that you couldn't hide away forever.

theo nodded, stubbing out his cigarette against the wall before standing up. his hand found yours, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through you as he pulled you to your feet. "yeah, we don't want to miss the grand finale," he said, his voice teasing. you couldn't help but laugh, the tension between you easing slightly as you allowed him to lead you back into the mayhem of the party.

[astrasng]

Little high on you || N.J

MINORS DNI!

pairing: idol!dom!jaemin x female!reader

summary: you and jaemin are old friends, spending the summer in a beach house under the influence. what could go wrong?

warnings: drugs and alcohol, handjob, oraljob, unprotected sex, thigh fucking (pls burry me) smoking and drinking, cursing,petnames (angel,baby,sweet girl,slut -oops) actually jaemin is kind of a switch here ^^

author's note: this has been sitting in my drafts for EVVAAA and i'm currently in my jaemin era again and APPARENTLY there are very little number of jaemin fics. (sad) so ig we're finally starting the jaemin list.

enjoy!

Jaemin was a sweet guy. You knew him for a long time now, years in fact. He was always polite to you and your family whenever he and the other members visited for holidays. His and your family often sat down together to chat about the two of you, and sometimes your family even invited his members to your beach house when the weather was nice. It was a good place to throw parties too.It would excite you every time just to think about being close to Jaemin again. You liked his company, and so did he like yours too.

So this is how you ended up in the same beach house on a hot dry summer day, wearing only your shorts and a flimsy tank top with a bikini under it. You were always comfortable around Jaemin and his friends, so you didn’t care about how you dressed. And the same goes to him too. He would occasionally take his shirt off if it was too hot, or wipe his forehead with his shirt when playing soccer with his friends. Your eyes couldn't help but wonder on his wide shoulders, the way he would laugh at his friends and then his abs would flex as he did so. It makes you bite your lip just at the thought.

But it happened the other way too. It took Jaemin so much not to pull you away from the others whenever you would push your cleavage together by accident when talking to someone as you bend over the kitchen island, or when you’d get out of the jacuzzi, the water sliding down on your body slowly, which drove him even crazier. His eyes would linger a little longer on your body when you decide to wear a slim dress on your night out. It drove him mad that he couldn’t get his hands on you in public, in front of everyone. He wanted to let everyone know that you were his, even if you weren’t even dating. Because when someone approaches you with a flirty demeanor, his blood boils.

The same happened tonight too, as you were rolling the wrapping papers together with Jeno sitting by your side on the couch, laughing as he would tell you stories about their tours. This wasn’t the problem, because Jaemin knows his best friend, and he knows you, but when he noticed Jeno being flirty after a few beers, he started being suspicious. You wouldn’t notice of course, because you liked his members so much and you wanted to have a good friendship with everyone. You would let his flirty interactions slip away and laugh due to the weed in your system. By the time you two finish wrapping the joints, Jeno lazily leans back on the couch and swings his arm around your shoulder. This makes you laugh as you light your cigarette. You are not thinking too much into this, considering that everyone is having a good time as the music in the house is blasting. As you inhale the joint deeper in your lungs, you sense Jeno moving on the couch.

“Wanna share it with me?” Jeno whispers, his mouth ghosting over your ear and it makes you chuckle. You turn your head in his way and see him already looking down at your lips. When you lift the joint to his lips, he shakes his head, motioning towards your lips when you blow out the smoke. You let out a smirk and take another puff, ready to shotgun it into Jeno’s mouth when suddenly someone pulls him up.

“Think I heard Mark calling for you in the kitchen. He was mixing some shit you asked for.” Jaemin looks down at the both of you, his eyes narrowing when he sees your state. Jeno jumps up and runs into the kitchen, leaving you two alone. Jaemin extends his hand towards you to take it, pulling you up softly from the couch.His hand slides softly around your waist, feeling him squeezing the flesh a few times as he walks towards the room he claimed when the whole group arrived in the house, pulling you softly inside. When he closes the door and turns around, he finds you already sitting on the couch with the joint in your hand.

You tilt your head to the side, looking up at him. You can clearly sense the tension in the air as you see his veins popping out on his neck. “Wanna join me?”

“Is this necessary? Is alcohol not enough?” He asks, his eyes glued on yours.

“Don’t judge until you don’t try it.” You giggle, your eyes trying to stay focused on Jaemin’s face as his dark hair decorates it. He thinks about it for a second, then plops down next to you. The weed wasn’t the problem for him, he wasn’t a judgy person to start with. The only thing that was bugging him, is that whenever you did something like that he was right next to you, keeping an eye on you just in case, but you didn’t even see him sometimes.

His arms automatically slide on the back of the couch, somewhat caging you in. “Fine.” He goes in for the joint but you stop him midway. When he looks at you with confusion, you shake your head.

You smirk before climbing on his lap, leaning him back as you plant your hands on his chest. You inhale once again, your fingers grabbing his chin to signal him to open his mouth slightly. When he opens his mouth, you lean closer to him, your mouth almost touching his as you blow the smoke into his.

Jaemin keeps his eyes on you the whole time, hands on your waist as you try not to squirm on his lap. The atmosphere went into a fuzzy, slow feeling. You had just entered the room with him, but you already feel like it’s filled up with smoke around the two of you. Your body is all hot, almost feeling his fingertips melt into your skin to your bones, Jaemin’s thin clothes keeping nothing from your eyes as you can see his body glistening from the hot weather. A smirk tickles the side of your mouth when you see Jaemin’s eyes searching for yours, his gaze softened but still sensual from being this close to you.

“I’m gonna explode if I can’t feel your lips, Y/N. I have been wanting to know how you taste for so long.” He can’t help but confess, his big dark eyes staring up at you as you softly wipe his hair back, making him lay his head on the back of the couch. Your hips ever so lightly grazing his lap to tease him more, getting him riled up.

“Is that so?” You hum, twisting the end of his hair slightly, taking another hit with your other hand. As you busy yourself, Jaemin softly inches closer to your exposed chest area, his lips pressing light and slow kisses on your flushed skin. He leaves a few red and big bruises ühere and there, licking at sucking at the soft flesh as he squeezes your body closer to his chest. You look down at him, your hand that was previously in his hair slides down to his chin, tilting it up again to share the intoxicating feeling. He gladly accepts, letting you press your lips to his, but not yet kissing him.

“Then I shouldn’t keep you waiting, hmm?” You whisper in his ear, pressing a light kiss after as you hear him groan slightly when you finally sit down on his very visible tent in his pants. You almost let yourself moan out his name when the fricktion finally reaches you, but you quickly attach your pink lips to his neck. Slowly, in circular motion you kiss at his collarbone, all the way up to his jawline.

“Are you teasing me now?”

He practically groans out, his hands keeping you close to him, his own body warmth radiating and keeping you warm. It makes you giggle as the words leave his mouth. “I enjoy hearing how desperate you are Nana~” You whisper in his ear again, biting down on his earlobe slightly. He feels like he should end this before he comes in his pants, but then the irresistible feeling catches up to him, and cloud fogs his mind slowly.

“Don’t worry,tonight, you’ll have me however you want me.”

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

And Jaemin does have you, in every way he wants you. He has you where he imagined. Finally without those not so clothes-worthy clothing laying around on the ground as he lazily strokes your legs back and forth, his tongue sliding around your hardened nipples when he ever so lightly grazes his teeth on it. Hazy and glossy eyes staring at him when his slender fingers are ghosting your skin on your stomach, slowly inching to your heat where you need the most friction. It’s funny how desperate he was a few minutes earlier, almost begging you to kiss him finally,and now here you are, spread on the bed he slept the previous night. Jaemin himself drives you crazy, with his eyes and presence, making you feel all too small and not worthy to be on the planet with him, but when he laid you down on the white sheets which were swimming in his cologne, you knew you could finally kiss goodbye to your friendship with him. Jaemin knew it too, the minute you took off your clothes teasingly, keeping your eyes only on him when you undid the back of your bikini.

It was a miracle he didn’t come just from the sight, watching your body press against his as you sat back on him before he took you to bed.

His breathing is labored as he kisses your whole body. “I can’t get enough of you,doll.” He says, his words muffled as he can’t seem to detach from your skin. “Let me have you all night.”

“Please, Jaemin~” You whimper, feeling his fingers part your wet lips apart, his finger due to the slickness slides in easily inside your warm walls, making him groan out the minute as he can feel himself getting hard from the feeling. He’s been imagining how you’d taste on his tongue as he eats you out everywhere in his apartment. It didn’t matter to him, he just wanted to have you in any way possible.

“I finally have you, angel. I don’t intend on letting you go now.” He presses a kiss on your stomach, lowering himself down as he whispers against your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll give everything to you.”

He can’t get enough of you, he thinks. It’s like something turned on inside of him, like someone spread glue on his hands, he never leaves your body as he softly kisses your aching core. You can’t help but whine, the feeling of his tongue on your pussy practically almost sending you into another universe.

“Pull your panties to the side for me, baby.” Jaemin whispers as he stands up, his hands gripping your plush thighs together, your ankles dangling on his shoulders, feeling his muscles flexing while composing himself. Jaemin tries so hard not to lose control, even in a state like this, when everything around him is happening in slow motion. The feeling helps him act more ‘natural’ around you, almost forgetting the situation you two are in.

You’re not his,and he’s not yours.

But does it really matter when the man in front of you spreads your pussy lips apart, keeping his eyes on you, watching every reaction you let out? A shiver goes over your body under his stare, his eyes more narrow than ever. “Are you feeling good, baby?”

All you do is nod and whine a little, trying to squirm away from his touch.

“Will you let me have you? Hmm?” He stares down at you, his fingers circling around your puffy clit while his other hand is holding you down, slightly pressing down on your lower stomach. His voice already almost made you come, just the pure vibration you feel even though your thighs as he squeezes them close to his clothed chest. Clothed chest. Why are you the only one naked?

“Answer me.”

“Yes! Please Jaemin, do something..” With a sigh you throw your head back, your body still fighting against his strength as his fingers are teasing your tight entrance once again. You couldn’t help but shudder again.

And then he pushed one finger inside, instantly finding your g-spot. “Are you going to let Jeno fuck you too?” He asks, his voice an octave lower, his skin glowing in the humid room. You want to shake your head at his pathetic question, but he slips another finger inside you. “Answer.”

“Jaemin–” You’re only able to moan out his name, your hands squeezing the sheets around you.

“Yeah baby, that’s me. Moan it louder for everyone” With his thumb he circles around your clit with force, the veins on his arms bulging out from keeping you in place. “Moan it so he can hear it too.” His voice is low,barely audible from your constand moans, but you oblige. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your back arching unconsciously as you near your climax.

“Jaemin~~ I- I think I’m gonna-” As you whimper, Jaemin cuts you off by taking his fingers out, leaving you breathless as you blink up at him. “Take your panties off, angel.” He adds as he reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head as he reveals his honey toned skin, his muscles glowing in slight sweat. When he notices that you took your panties off as he takes your thighs once again, and positions it on his shoulders on one side. The only things you can do is groan, your legs already numb from being up for so long.

“Good girl.” Jaemin groans out when he sees your glistening pussy, all waiting for him to be stretched. But he takes a big breath and unzips his pants, taking his leaking cock out. Your eyes almost fall out of their places when you see him for the first time. “Do you see this baby?” He taps it on the side of your thighs for you to see, making you whimper. “It’s all because of you. All wet and hard, just because you’re acting like a slut in front of everyone.” He hisses, dragging his tip all over the back of your thighs, the grip getting stronger. “Do you think you deserve it?”

“Yes!” You whimper again, craving for the feeling of him being inside you. You wanted this for so long, whenever you saw him in suits for galas or any kind of shows you wanted to throw yourself on him. He drove you crazy just as much as you did. But not in your wildest dream would you think that he would be the one being in control. Finally seeing him without clothes and his cock nearing your aching core, you let out another pathetic whine. “I deserve it…”

“Do you now?” With a smooth caress on your left thigh, he tilts his head to the side, humming before speaking up. “Let me see you touch yourself, pretty.”

His voice makes you bite your lip, your hand sliding all the way down to your clit, massaging it with need and lust. You immediately throw your head back at the sensation, the temperature inside the room almost hitting unbearable as your moans fill the room along with Jaemin’s groans. “That’s it…you look so pretty like this.”

With a shaky breath you continue working on your clit when you feel a sudden pressure on your thighs. Between your thighs.

You find Jaemin pushing his cock between your plush thighs, his eyebrows knitted together as he slowly pushes through the gap he created, muttering a low – “Fuck..” His grip on you tightens even more as slowly fucks his cock head in and out – leaving you breathless and almost forgetting your own task. The sensation of feeling his cock between your thighs, skin to skin, leaving trails of precum on your flushed red skin.

Suddenly, you feel his hand grabbing yours as he drags them down to your entrance slowly, his smirk only growing when he hears you cry out already knowing what he’s about to do. “Put them inside, baby. Or should I do it for you? Hmm?” He breathes, chuckling when you shake your head heavily, slowly pushing one finger inside.

“It’s not as good as yours..” You can’t help but mutter out, shutting your eyelids in shame, feeling your cheeks blooming in red color when he coos at you. “Aw, my baby can’t even pleasure themselves?” He thrust again while his fingers slowly guided another of your fingers inside you, stretching you out as you moaned uncontrollably. “See? It’s not so hard, is it?” As you only can think about him fucking your thighs as your fingers inside you, he sneakily pushed one of his fingers in your hole, making your almost scream from the stretch. “Nana–” With a whimper you warn Jaemin before your climax finally reaches you, the feeling unfolding in your stomach in waves, making you arch your back with a loud moan as you come around your and Jaemin’s fingers. You can hear him chuckle lowly as you keep massaging your clit while coming down from your high,

“There you go…you take it so well baby, don’t give up now.” With a groan he thrust inside your thighs one last time, seeing his tip leaking from precum, red and puffy as he kept himself back from actually coming. When he pulls back finally, he squats down to be eye level with your pussy coated in your arousal, making him groan out from the sight. “Baby,you did so well.” He smiles up at you, his big eyes filled with lust as he inches closer to your core. “Can I have a taste?”

He latches on your tight hole, tasting you on his tongue without waiting for an answer. Jaemin nearly comes from the taste, his hands gripping your sticky thighs so you can’t jump away from overstimulation.

“Jaem, it’s too – nghh..-- too much..”

“Just give me one more, I know you can do it.” His words are muffled due to him lapping at your juices like a starved man, moaning and groaning at your taste. The vibrations only bring you closer to your climax, until you reach it for the second time tonight. You feel like your whole body is going to blow up in any second as Jaemin continuously slurps up your arousal, not wasting one drop. When he’s finally satisfied with himself, he comes up, his lips shining with cum as he manhandles your legs to be on the side of his bed. Your whole body is situated sideways as he comes down closer to your lips, immediately melting his lips together with yours after waiting for so long. As you can taste yourself oh his lips and tongue, you let out another groan, your hand sneaking into his hair to tug on it. With lust filled eyes and an innocent smile, he looks at you;

“How about I make you fall apart on my cock, yeah?”

—------------

“Shh, it’s okay baby. I’m in…relax for me.” Jaemin groans beside you in your ear, his left arm keeping his body up so he can see your face and body, his cock disappearing inside your cunt. Your walls clamp down on him uncontrollably since he pushed his tip in, the delicious stretch making your eyes water as you squeeze the sheets in your hands. Jaemin is positioned behind you, one of his arms circled around your waist so he can reach your breast, flicking your nipples from time to time.

“Shit– why do you have to be so tight?” With a groan he pulls all the way out, slowly pushing himself back until he hits your cervix, making you arch your back.

With now all of the clothes gone from both of you, you can feel him everywhere perfectly. His sweat slightly touches your back as moves rapidly behind you. His arms bulging with veins as he aligns your head in a way he can deepen the kiss. His hair sticking to his forehead, just so you can swipe it out of his face. And him moving inside of you so freely, promising that he would pull out just in time. But both of you know that it’s a lie.

The simple thought of Jaemin filling you up with him cum makes you go crazy, imagining how it would drip out of you because of how much he came. He’d like to see that view too.

“I pictured this all the time.” He confesses, his hips moving with more force and quicker than before. As your whines get louder and louder he sneaks his hand up to your throat, caressing the skin there as he kisses the side of it. “Quiet down angel, unless you really want the world know who’s fucking you just right.” He groans again, feeling your warm walls squeezing him incredibly tight like you don't want to let him go.

You moaned as he slammed inside you, his hand now spreading your cheeks apart and squeezing the flesh in his palm while groaning in your ear. His thrusts were powerful, hard and steady as he buried his cock deep within you. “Fuck– you’re so pretty like this – all wet and warm, letting me use you however I want.” With another thrust you moan loudly, one of your hands flying back to bury your fingers in his hair.

“Come inside me, please — use me however you want–”

At your plea Jaemin lets out a moan, quickening his thrusts while leaving red bruises on your hips from squeezing them so much.

“Sweet girl, I’ll fill you up so everyone knows you’re mine,” He presses a kiss on your earlobe, then on the side of your neck. “Is that what you want?”

The question is obvious, but the way he’s asking it and waiting for you to answer, even though he knows you want it just as much as him. The way his cock hits the spot again and again brings him and you too on the edge, but Jaemin thinks of this as a priority – making you cum before him. So he takes his fingers and places it on your already abused clit, massaging it until he hears you constantly whimpering his name while tears are flowing down your cheeks.

“Say it, baby.”

“Yes! Fuck,! Yes I want you to fill me up Jaemin!” With a cry you come apart on his cock, pulsating around him as you nearly fall forwards on your elbows, your thighs shaking rapidly as you can’t seem to stop moaning. It’s the pushover for Jaemin too, hearing your cries and feeling you wrapped around him so nicely – only for him.

“Then it’s yours baby – all of it.” He moans beside your ear again, his finger still abusing your clit as he shoots ropes of his cum inside your warm walls, creating a creamy white ring at the base of his cock as it overflows. He takes a look down, smirking to himself as he gathers some on his finger which previously stimulated you — bringing it up to his mouth.

Your breath hitches as you see his eyes nearly roll back from the taste, feeling his cock slightly stirred awake again as he looks into your eyes.

“Don’t tell me–”

Jaemin pulls out with a hiss, feeling the temperature hitting his wet cock with a sudden wave as he positions himself to be on top of you entirely.

“As I said,” He grabs his cock by the base, swiftly tugging on it a few times before spreading your pussy lips apart again. “I don’t intend on letting you go now.”

Na Jaemin smirks with an innocent look before he makes you his all over again.

[st4vk1nmybra1n]

I knew you in another life. (You had that same look in your eyes.)

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x reader Wc: 12.6k! Cont: implied fem!reader with fem!pronouns. reincarnation au. Sappy romance with angst, but happy ending! Somewhat fast paced romance, there's timeskips so it comes off as a quick progression. author's note: Both reader and Satoru are reincarnated through different eras and times in reality. (In order) Royal!au with knight!satoru and princess!reader, jujutsu!au with sorcerer!satoru and non-sorcerer!reader, painter!au with muse!satoru and painter!reader. And finally, teacher!reader with satoru. As always, comments and feedback is always appreciated <3

“Satoru, not here,” you whispered hurriedly, pushing your lover, Satoru, away from your face, his feathery lips ghosting over your skin. He let out a laugh, pulling you even closer, his mouth warming up the skin on your neck.

“Why not, my love?” He asked softly, tone fond as he blinked up at you. His eyes were clouded over with pure love and fondness. Holding back a smile, you brush your fingers through his hair.

“And if father calls upon me? Then? Or worse, upon you? How will you know?” You asked in an accusing voice, attempting to give him a stern look. He let out a whine, nuzzling into your embrace.

“Oh, but sweetheart! I only get a moment of reprieve with you in my arms. I beg of you, you mustn't take it away from me!” He cried out dramatically, to which you sigh out in exasperation, lips pressing over his forehead.

“It's very late. You're not supposed to be in my chambers.” You chided, and he sighed, blowing out a puff of air in annoyance.

“How am i supposed to protect my beautiful and dearest princess, if I'm not within her gracious presence, hm?” He asked, voice sassy. Crossing his arms over his coat clad chest, Satoru gave you a look, as if pressing you to answer him.

“Do you wish for the people to create a scandal? The princess and her faithful knight caught an affair?! How blasphemous! I can already hear their voices.” You sighed, sitting back on your bed as you imitated the voices of the people. You truly loved Satoru and weren't afraid to show it behind closed doors, but it was much too risky to be doing this when anyone could catch either one of you, leading to a quick demise to the love you both had for one another.

“Let them, my lovely. Your maids already are at your service and will gladly bring honor to any conversation regarding you and your name. Even if you are indeed involved with your dearest knight, that is.” He teased, sitting down beside you to pull you into his lap. You sigh once more, shaking your head in disbelief. You glance up at him, his gorgeous blues staring back down at you, strands of grown hair falling into his eyes. He huffs, his hair flying up before falling back down into his eyes, making him groan in annoyance.

You let out a laugh, brushing his hair back once more, your other hand tracing his cheekbones. “What would I do without you?” You murmured softly, eyes softening as you took him in.

“Well, you mustn't think of such things, my princess.” He scolded playfully, pulling off his gloves so he can hold you closer. You look up at him, watching his eyes seemingly glow brighter as he looks down at you, like you were everything to him.

Before either one of you could speak, you hear a knock on the door, making the two of you freeze up. You blink, quickly getting up off his lap as you look around for a place to hide him. You hear another knock, making you panic even more.

“Who is it?” You call out, attempting to keep your tone steady.

“Open the door, dear. I brought tea.” The voice of your mother spoke out, making your eyes widen even more.

“Coming, mother!” You reply, dragging Satoru by the arm, hiding him against the wall to the side which the door opened. You quickly turn the knob to the door, pulling it open to greet your mother, successfully veiling your lover.

“Thank you, mother. Are you and father retiring for the night?” You ask casually, taking the cup of tea from her hands, bringing it upwards to take a gentle sip.

“Yes. We have an early day tomorrow, I hope you will sleep soon, dear.” She answers, to which you smile.

You take another sip of the tea, humming in delight. It was a little sweeter than you'd like, but you preferred to have it that way. Not that anyone knew otherwise, they all just assumed you had a sweet tooth from all the sweets you brought up to your room. “Isn't it always an early day in the palace, mother?” You commented cheekily, to which your mother scoffed playfully, leaning forward to gently tug on your cheek. Her eyes glance to the side as she taps her foot against the floor, smiling at your playful behaviour.

“Please. Your day consists of prancing around the village with your knight until your heart's content. You surely aren't opposed to that, are you?” She teased back, watching as you held back a grin, feeling flustered.

“Goodnight, mother.” You sighed lightheartedly, feeling abashed by her comment. She simply nodded, bidding you a farewell for the night. You gently close the door, letting out an instant sigh of relief.

Satoru quickly pops out from his place against the wall, dramatically wiping his brow with a ‘phew’, as he grabs the cup of tea from your hands. He takes a big sip, grinning at the sweet taste. “Something about the tea your mother makes is delicious. Perhaps it's all the love she makes it with.” He mused, pulling you along towards the bed. You followed with no complaints, taking your seat on your bed. He chugs the tea down, setting it by your bedside table. He pulls you back into his arms, laying you down against his chest.

“Say, that other lad, Naoya, was it? From the Zen’in family. He seemed quite interested in you.” Satoru spoke, hoping to keep his tone as neutral as possible so as to not convey his jealousy.

You pause, raising a brow at his words. You had an inkling of what the conversation was leading to. “Prince Naoya? Perhaps. But truly, he's an insolent fool. He's selfish, and very rude to my caretakers. It's unbecoming of a leader.” You spoke, voice laced with irritation at the mere mention of the prince’s name.

“He does seem like the type. I won't argue with that. I think your parents and his parents got along quite well at the last gathering…” he spoke quietly, running a hand through your hair.

You now knew very well of his implications, and you knew he wasn't lying. You hated how things were. Your parents surely loved you, yes, but they would absolutely kill Satoru if they had found out about your affair with him. Even if it meant killing the strongest knight, the only one skilled enough to take care of you, even if it meant risking your safety. They would never allow you to marry him.

They had always implied that they would be marrying you into a strong family, and they would always get upset if you had a strong, opposing reaction to such comments. It made you feel trapped. “I'd rather die than marry a man the likes of Naoya.” You gritted out, grip tightening on Satoru's arms.

“Woah there, princess. You're going to scratch off your knight’s muscles if you keep gripping him like that.” Satoru teased you by lightening up your mood, laying you back against the mattress of your bed. You glanced up at him, unable to stop yourself from smiling. He leaned down, pecking your lips. “It's quite.. sensual, seeing you react in such ways at the mention of other suitors..” he commented, eyes clouding over with pure love and admiration as he leaned down, lips caressing each inch of the skin on your neck, as if worshiping it.

“Say, is your feline asleep? Sound asleep?” Satoru asked, finally addressing your cat, fast asleep in the corner of your room. She was quiet, sweet and very doting when it came to you. As of right now, she snoozes in the corner of your room, brown fur fluffy as ever, as she was quite pampered by you and the entire kingdom.

“Yes, darling. She's asleep.” You sigh, shaking your head at him. Satoru's grin suddenly widens, finding himself and his touch become more daring. “So you won't mind if I..?” He doesn't say more, his hands coming up to cup your face as he gives you a peck, fingers ghosting over your skin, moving lower and lower.

His fingers trailed down your bare arms, to your waist. His fingers roam behind your back, finding the knots to your nightgown. “May i?” He asked softly, to which you nodded, allowing yourself to be lost in his arms for another night.

♡︎

“Your knight is here to see you.” Your mother spoke, tone remaining neutral. You blinked, gaze slowly moving over to her. You breathed in slowly, exhaling shakily.

“Allow him in, please.” Your weak voice had spoken out, to which your mother closed her eyes, tears threatening to spill.

“You do realize you are going to die soon, yes?” She spoke, voice cracking in the slightest. She clenched her fists, gripping a napkin in one hand.

You pause, taking a minute to formulate an answer. You knew that. Very well. But you had wanted it. Wanted this. You'd much rather spend your last moments breathing with the love of your life, than be alive in the arms of another man.

Taking another deep breath, you began speaking. “Mother, I love him. I have for the past few years. And I cannot–” your mother cuts you off, holding a hand up. You silence yourself, deflating.

“I know. Save your breath for him. You don't think I notice every time I come to give you your tea? Dear, the gaps in your door are not that small. I can see him quite easily. And I know my daughter. She loves her sweet things but she much rather would prefer a milder sweet. And everyone in the kingdom knows of knight Gojo’s sweet tooth. You are your mother's daughter, of course i would notice. I'm sorry I couldn't stop your father from taking the engagement with Prince Naoya forward. If only I'd have known it would make you this sick.” Your mother spoke, sorrow evident in her voice. But what was done had been done. Your engagement could not be called off. Just like your death would be impending.

“I'll let him in. At least let me say goodbye to my child.” She mumbled, breaking into tears as she hugged you tightly for what seemed like the first time in months, but what would be the last time ever as well. You let out a shaky exhale, finding some strength in you to hug her back.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, tears slipping down her face. You couldn't muster the energy in you to say much more, letting her hug you. She pulled away after a moment, wiping her face and tears. “I'll send him in.” She murmured, head lowered in melancholia.

You simply nodded, taking in the room around you. It was around mid December, and as you glanced out the window, you could see snow falling. It made you smile. Your eyes move back towards your chamber, and the sound of wood crackling can be heard from the fireplace. The only source of light and heat in the room you were in. Gone was the large, spacious bedroom with a floor to ceiling canopy around a large bed. Now remains a shell of what once was, with you having been moved into a smaller, cozier room in your final days. The once lavish and large bed for your feline, was now replaced by a few warm, fluffy blankets. Your dear cat, ever the wisdom filled companion, showed no signs of discomfort at such a change, simply sitting by your side every time she felt you were suffering the most.

“You're awake,” Satoru said as he walked into your room, voice uncharacteristically soft. He closed the door behind him, large strides carrying him to the wooden chair beside your bed. You nodded up at him, hand twitching as you glanced at his own. Wordlessly, he reached out, taking your unnaturally cold hand into his warm ones. “Why?” He spoke, voice threatening to break.

“Whatever do you mean?” You asked quietly, glancing up at him, he let out a breathy exhale, shaking his head.

He closed his eyes, swallowing sharply. Your eyes watched as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down from the movement, frosty lashes brushing against his cheeks. He looked beautiful in the glow of the fire. “You were fine a week ago. Perfectly fine. Your reports say so. But as soon as your engagement was announced to you, you fell ill? To the point of your death looming upon you?! Forgive me, my life, but I simply refuse to believe that this is a natural illness.” Satoru spoke with a clenched jaw, unable to hold back his emotions from now on.

You blinked up at him, a small, tired smile coming over your face. “I told you I'd rather die than marry him.” You whispered, watching as a singular tear cascaded down his cheek.

“We could've ran away together, darling!” He cried out, licking his lips as he felt his mouth start to go dry. You sighed, shakily reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb wiping away the tear threatening to fall from his jaw.

Shaking your head, you answered. “We could not. Escape and go where? To the neighboring kingdoms that knew of our father? Or perhaps the faraway ones that were sworn enemies to our palace? It was no use, my dearest.” You whispered softly, tears welling up in your own eyes.

“And poisoning yourself was the only solution?!” He yelled out, eyes widened in disbelief and sorrow.

“Yes, Satoru!” You yelled back, holding back a cough. “Yes, it was! I'm terrified of being away from you, I cannot do it. I cannot live without you. The prince looks down upon women more than any man I've ever come across in my life. I would have suffered greatly there, and without you couldn't have functioned. I refuse to live on without you. That's the path I have chosen. And it is done, Satoru.” You answered, voice growing weaker and weaker as your body began to tremble with your pained sobs. Satoru reached out, cradling your head to his chest as he wiped your tears, kissing your head.

“And how do you expect me to live, my love?” he asked, his tears slipping into your hair. “How will I live now? Who will I protect? Whose tea will I steal now? Hm?” he asked, clutching you harder to his chest. He felt a sob escape his lips, your head tilting up.

You reached up, wiping his face clean, finger pressing against his lips, swollen from his crying. “Shh, my beloved. We'll meet again. In a life with no restrictions, no rules and traditions holding us back. We'll love freely, and we'll explore this beautiful world without anyone stopping us.” You whispered softly, watching him lean down to kiss your head.

As your crying slowed down, you smiled weakly. “Satoru, it's cold. Can you hold me?” You asked, voice growing quieter and quieter. Without another word, Satoru got up from his place, squeezing into your small bed with your body held against his.

“I'm here, my love. I promise you I am. And I'll be here. Don't worry. You can rest well now.” Satoru mumbled shakily, willing himself not to cry as you truly approached your last moments. You swallowed shakily, feeling yourself wince at the feeling.

“I love you.” You mumbled softly, your throat beginning to hurt. Satoru leaned down, kissing you one last time. Unwillingly, a tear slipped down his face, making its way between your locked lips, the salty taste making you pull back. “It's cold, Satoru.” You echoed, body trembling.

“Shhh, I know it is, darling. I know. I love you so much. I'm here, hm? Just rest, my life. I've got you, always. We'll meet again, right?” He mumbled reassuringly, as you mustered the last of your energy to smile up at him, eyes closing. “I'll see you then, I promise.” He whispered, clutching you against his chest until he felt you go limp.

In the distance, by the large window bringing in the moonlight of the late hours of the night, a small, fluffy and brown creature sat, taking its leave the moment it felt your soul leave its vessel.

Satoru Gojo, if you do not come back here this instant!” Called out the caretaker of said boy, watching him run around the Gojo estate, away from her. She sighed, turning back to the couple in front of her. “My apologies, I'll get him back.” She mumbled, calling out to the boy once more. “No kikufuku tonight if you keep this up, sir Gojo!” She called, to which he froze, running back towards her.

She sighed in relief, turning towards the couple once more. “These are your two teachers, Gojo. She'll be teaching you Jujutsu history, while her husband will teach you how to read and write Kanji.” She explained to the young boy, to which he blinked, already bored. The couple introduced themselves one by one, smiling down at the boy.

“And what about the younger one?” He asked, striking blue eyes staring into the soul of the older woman. She blinked in surprise, though chuckled in response. Of course, she shouldn't expect any less from Gojo Satoru, user of limitless and the six eyes. A jujutsu technique passed down uniquely in the Gojo clan. The world balance had been tipped at the birth of this young boy. It was impressive, to say the least.

She smiled, stepping to the side to reveal a young child, who quickly shuffled back behind the older woman, peeking her head to blink up at the boy. “This is my daughter,” she introduces the child to Gojo, saying your name to him. He simply blinked in response, shrugging.

And from that day onwards, Gojo Satoru had daily lessons from his tutors, taking breaks to play with you and get to know you more. He learned that you had your own cursed technique, albeit very weak and nothing like his. He had to give you credit though, you were strong for your age. Not as strong as him, but pretty strong for an average kid. Though it was clear you wouldn't be taking it further. You seemed to really be well educated on your technique and there was a clear passion in your eyes when you asked him about his technique.

You both would spend your days frolicking around the estate, talking to each other about your techniques and what you'd learned that day. There were a few places within the estate you both were familiar with. The garden with the pristine, white roses, where the gardener would chide you both for getting too close. The spot behind the fountains, where you both would throw stones into the water streaming in the ponds. The spot near the very back of the estate, where a very wise and striking cat you both adored would roam. A fluffy, brown cat, seemingly always popping out at the most high tension moments, easing the atmosphere between you both.

Satoru found himself fascinated by your presence. Someone who was finally his age and not a grown man telling him what he should do and shouldn't do. You were really sweet to him, too. He found it easy to talk to you about anything and everything, something about you was inviting. Unlike anything he was used to, in the Gojo clan.

“Satoru, where's your mom? I've never seen her around.” You asked him one day as you both set out on an adventure, sneaking out of the estate to go explore.

“She's gone. They took her away because she was weak. I don't see her anymore.” He explained, voice indifferent. You looked up, brows furrowed in worry.

“Do you miss her?” You asked, watching the young boy think for a moment. He shrugged, glancing back at you.

“Not really. I never saw her much anyways.” He answered honestly, pulling your hand closer as you both walked through a crowd.

“Hey, what was that for?!” He yelled out, face flushed. You giggled, squeezing his hand. He tugged you along through the crowded streets, not glancing back at you so as not to fluster himself even more. But he could still see you, with his six eyes. He'd never lose sight of you, ever.

You hum in response, pecking his cheek. “That's okay! You can always ask my mom for.. a hug or something if you want. I'm sure it'll be the same.” You grinned, watching satoru's eyes widen as he blinked, a blush covering his face.

♡︎

And so you were fifteen, both early teenagers still playing around and messing with each other. You still practiced hard together, even though Satoru would win more than half of the time. The time had come around to discuss the fact that Satoru would be going to Jujutsu tech for his studies further on, and he had the brilliant idea to have you admitted with him. You were insanely smart, knowing both Japanese and English fluently, and you were actually pretty skilled when it came to your technique and combat. As Satoru brought up the idea to you, you were nervous. But definitely excited for what was to come. Surely, it was a no brainer to have you around, no?

“What do you mean no?!” Satoru yelled out in disbelief, watching as the Gojo clan higher ups outright refused his offer. He was ready to fight for your rights to go to the school, as you deserved it way more than he did (or maybe not more than him.. but still!). The dedication that you put in was undeniable.

“It means no. The girl is weak. With her skill, she'll barely make it to grade 2. She's not worthy enough for it.” One of them stated as if it were a fact, making Satoru's blood boil.

“How dare you say that. She's better than most of you bastards in here! Her wits and skills aren't to be judged by the likes of you.” He gritted out, jaw clenched.

“Only you will be going to Jujutsu tech. And that's final. You are dismissed.” One of the others spoke, to which Satoru groaned, leaving the room with a loud slam of the door.

And as you stood outside, it was like something in your eyes had changed. The sad, knowing smile on your lips only upset him further, pissing him off to no end.

“It didn't work.” He answered plainly, to which you sighed, nodding.

“I should've known it wouldn't. That's okay. When you come back to visit you can tell me all about it, okay?” You smiled up at him, eyes still somber. Satoru stared back at you, his eyes filled with a determination you were absolutely no stranger to.

You reached out, grabbing his hand in your own, interlocking your fingers with his. You gave them a squeeze, reassuring him that you'd be okay.

♡︎

And so he set off on his journey to jujutsu high, with him having arranged living quarters for you and your parents after he'd left. Even though your parents wouldn't be teaching him anymore, he still respected them (mainly because of you), so he had a small living area built for your family, not too far from the estate but not joined to it. The Gojo clan had been highly opposed to this addition, and you knew of this. But they knew better than to test Gojo Satoru, so they abided.

He would often visit a lot in the beginning, telling you all about his friends Suguru and Shoko. You listened attentively, taking note of how he'd grown taller in height, gotten stronger and had started wearing those glasses to help him with his six eyes. He'd shown you photographs of his friends, they were interesting. You were glad to see him get along with them well.

Overtime, he grew more and more busier, being given more missions and more important work. The last you'd heard was before he had set off on the mission with Suguru to find the star plasma vessel. You'd heard of what had gone down, and the higher ups had only pushed more and more upon Satoru.

You heard he got stronger and stronger, how he almost died to a man who had heavenly restriction. He also learned to keep his infinity on at all times, and his reverse cursed technique had improved tenfold.

And so as you sat on a tatami mat, reading a literature book with the sounds of water flowing nearby, you felt the hair on your neck stand up, the impending sense of doom creeping up on you.

Meanwhile, Satoru was busy with a mission to kill a special grade curse, finding himself dealing with a handful of curses at the moment. As he fought, he felt a shiver run up his spine. These curses were weak. It wasn't them, and he knew. He took off his glasses, adjusting to the overwhelming experience of having six eyes. He continued to fight as he tried pinpointing the problem. As he realized what was happening, he froze up, eyes widening. In a blink of an eye, the curses had been massacred, and Gojo Satoru had fled the scene instantly.

Instead, he teleported to the offhand estate on the Gojo clan’s land, finding himself face to face with an eerie silence. Usually, he would be greeted with the pleasant smell of whatever your mother had made, and the sight of you rushing to embrace him. You always knew when he'd teleport over, but not this time, it seemed.

He quickly rushed into the place, walking through the front door, only to be met with the sight of blood, making his breath hitch. With widened eyes, he saw the bloody scene of your parents’ murdered bodies lying on the floor of your living room, and he rushed through the house to find you.

Running into the backroom, he remembers how you were almost always found in the room, reading a book with a cup of tea that had gone cold by your side. And when he entered, he saw your beloved book lying on the floor, covered in your blood. He rushed over to your body, shaking you slightly with trembling hands. “Hey! Hey! I'm here! It's okay! Tell me who did this to you!” He called out, watching your eyes open to glance up at him weakly.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, holding you close. “Who was it?” He asked, eyes filled with panic and anger. His tone of voice was cold, quiet, but the underlying sense of rage was clear cut.

“Who else?” You mumbled weakly, giving him a smile. He knew it had been the higher ups of the clan. They had wanted to get rid of you the moment you'd grown close to Satoru, but you were no force to be reckoned with. Especially with how much Satoru cherished you. They saw you aw a nuisance to Satoru's priorities, questioning where they lied when they saw him spending more time with you instead of updating them on his missions when he came back home to visit. He held you tighter against him, letting out a deep breath.

“You fought back, right? I know you did.” Satoru asked, hoping to keep you awake as he speed walked through the place, pointedly holding your head to his chest to avoid having your deceased parents in your line of sight.

“Made them bleed.” You slurred out, smiling weakly. Satoru let out a strained smile, making his way to the higher ups in large strides.

“Satoru?” You called out, to which he hummed, focused in on his task of going into the estate and killing every single one of them. “Stop.” You added, to which he paused, glancing down at you. You looked up, reaching out to cup his cheek.

“Always knew you'd make it far,” you added, smiling up at him again. Satoru sighed shakily, holding you tighter against him. “You know I love you, hm?” You mumbled, cheek squished against his chest. He licked his lips, finding himself at a loss of words. Of course he knew. He wanted to wait until he was older, stronger, and done with school until he'd ask you out, marry you and live with you. And then he'd let you train more with him, so you both could be sorcerers together.

“I know. And I love you. Swear it. We were gonna live together. Without those damned bastards telling us what to do. If only I was stronger, if only I got there sooner-” he mumbled, to which you cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Shh, ‘s okay. In another life, hm?” you mumbled to him, staring up at him with a fondness in your eyes. And as he stared back at you, you saw that same look in his eyes as the light from your own had faded, right in his arms.

And so once again, the cat you both had familiarized yourselves with, had set off another adventure, finding no use for staying within the same area after your departure.

And can you tilt your head a little higher? Perfect.” You guided the man in front of you, focusing on your canvas in front of you.

You were a painter, either drowning in riches or struggling to pay rent. You had the higher class as your clients, and you mainly got a lot of people asking for your work near wedding dates, or as gifts to lovers.

Your muse was an aristocrat, a child of one of your clients. It was your client's second marriage, and Gojo Satoru, your muse, had been his child from the first marriage. You sat in the wedding, quietly painting the scenery and the couple.

He had approached you quietly, his blue eyes observing you for some time now. “How much did that old man pay you for this service?” he had asked, to which you paused, sipping your wine.

“I don't think i can disclose that information to you,” you mused, turning back to your paints.

The man in question sighed, shaking his head. “Oh, come on. I'm the man's child. Surely you can?” He raised a brow, to which you hummed.

“three thousand and two hundred dollars.” you answered plainly, to which he looked thoroughly amused. Now, for the time, it was a lot of money. He wasn't too surprised his father had money to blow, but still.

“Think you could maybe sneak in a jester? A clown? Something to add humor to the painting?” He asked, sipping his glass of champagne.

You let out an amused laugh at his words, stopping short as he hadn't laughed along. He wasn't serious, was he? “And why would I do that?” you asked, raising a brow at him. He hummed, as if thinking hard about his answer.

“I'll pay you more. And my father's a scum. It'll give me something to laugh about, everytime i visit his estate.” He answered, as if it was beneficial to you. Well– maybe the extra money was, but still!

“Is that all?” You asked, taking another sip of your wine. He paused, blinking. What else could he possibly offer? Ah!

“I'll recommend you to everyone I know who's holding an important event. It'll be a good way to make sure you have clients coming in and out. I'm really good at convincing people, trust me.” He grinned with pride, finally sitting down on a chair beside you. You sigh, contemplating his words. “It'll be our little secret, I promise.” He winked, flashing you a charming smile.

Sighing, you give into his antics, finding yourself craving a little bit of enjoyment anyway. “Fine, I'll do so.” You mumbled, beginning to draw out a jester in the corner of the painting, by the other crowd of people drawn out. It stood out a little, but not too much. Slowly but surely, you painted and painted, watching as romance bloomed in between different couples as the night progressed, your focus entirely on the painting. And during the whole time, Satoru had been by your side, entertaining your otherwise dull session. As everyone begins to crowd onto the center of the room, finding partners to dance with, you continue painting.

“How about a dance. Just for a break.” Satoru suggested, holding his hand out to you. You blinked up at him, letting out a laugh.

“Dancing with someone of the lower class? Is that not ill fitting for you?” You had teased him, to which he shook his head, holding his hand out closer.

“Oh, please. Who really cares about any of that. If I see a pretty woman, I'm going to want to dance, regardless.” He answered smoothly, pulling you up from your chair, guiding you towards the dance floor. He placed a hand over your waist, the other gripping your hand in his. Your free hand found home on his shoulder, as you both began to sway.

“What a dancer you are, dear painter.” He mused, pulling you closer as you began to waltz. You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

You let out a sigh, biting your lip as you pondered on your words. “I learned when I was young. My mother enjoyed learning the ways of the aristocracy. We never were close to such, but i think she'd be happy to know her skills she taught me have come to use in an event such as this.” You explained, feeling Satoru's blue eyes focusing on your face in wonder.

He hummed, finding your words fascinating. “That's interesting. I've only ever known this life. Not much amuses me in this world, honestly.” He spoke earnestly, finding no need to sugarcoat his words. You listen thoughtfully, nodding along.

“Being of the lower class puts things into perspective, I feel. I've learned to compromise a lot of my life, and it's made me appreciate many things in my life. I see myself enjoying a lot of things. But I conceal most of my fascinations. Only because I know it's something that can be easily taken advantage of.” You elaborate more on your life, finding it easy to talk about your life to him.

“Yet here you are, telling me all about yourself.” He mused softly, to which you chuckled.

“You learn to gamble on stuff like this. Even if you ruin my life from this point onwards, it's okay. I've not much to lose, surely.” You smiled up at him, making his heart race. He held you closer, finding himself entranced by you, a complete stranger.

And as the song ended, you both slowly, reluctantly pulled away. And as you reapproached your seats, you diligently began finishing up the details of the painting.

“Ah, is the portrait finished?” The bride approached out of nowhere, making you jump in your seat.

“Oh, yes. It is. Just adding some final details.” You nodded, smiling up at her. She grinned, observing the painting.

She looked closely, a confused frown coming over her features. “Is that.. a clown?” She asked, pointing to the figure you'd drawn, as per Satoru's request.

You blinked, lips parting. You glanced at Satoru on the sides, who held back a laugh. “A jester. An entertainer for a king, a sign of significance. A jester symbolizes prestige and class, i thought it would be very fitting, with the era portraits originate from.” You explained to her, and her eyes lit up in delight, finding the detail to be a perfect addition. She thanked you quickly, walking off towards her newly wedded husband.

“Is that actually what jesters symbolize?” Satoru asked, gaping at you. You simply blinked up at him, shrugging.

“I haven't a clue,” you answered, making the male burst into a fit of laughter.

♡︎

“You've been awfully silent.” Satoru spoke aloud, snapping you out of your trance. You had been focused on your painting. Your last painting of him.

“I was reminiscing, apologies.” You mumbled, painting out the features of his face. His beautiful, glowing eyes. His lips, full of life. His snowy white lashes and hair.

“I'm sure you'll be doing a lot more of that in the future,” Satoru added, to which you winced, lips pursed. “You know we can run away, yes? Start anew. You don't need to do this.” Satoru pleaded, to which you looked away, gaze downcast.

“My mother is dying, Satoru. It's her dying wish. I can't abandon her like that.” You explained grimly, feeling your grip on your paintbrush tighten.

“But you can abandon me?!” Satoru yelled out, brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Yes, Satoru! Because you aren't dying! Because you'll find someone better! You'll find someone worth being wedded to you! Someone of your class, Satoru.” You cried out in response, feeling your heart crush at his expression.

“I don't want someone in my class! I don't want any of that! I don't wish for fancy meals and ballrooms. With you, even stale bread would suffice, for God's sake!” he responded, pleading with you as he got down on his knees in front of you.

“Satoru, my love, I can't. You know how much I love you, I'd never love another. But my mother..” you whispered to him, biting your lip to stop the tears from falling. You leaned down, forehead leaning against his.

He opened his eyes to look into yours, eyes filled with blue. Not just hues of said color, but pure and utter sadness. “Please, sweetheart. I love you too much,” he whispered, gripping onto your hands that were cupping his face.

You felt the tears slip from your eyes and onto his cheeks as you leaned down to give him one final kiss. “I'm sorry, Satoru. I truly am. In another life, I'm sure I'll find my way back to you. You're my true home.” You whispered, pulling him into your embrace to hug him one last time. Slowly, you pulled away, approaching the carriage that stood outside for you.

And as Satoru stood there, watching you leave, you looked back at him. The look in his eyes was one that you'd never forget. One you knew would haunt you when you'd fall asleep beside a stranger you married just for the sake of appeasing to another's wishes. And as Satoru looked into your eyes one final time, he could tell what remained inside was a shell of who you once were, as if you had truly died in his arms mere seconds ago.

Watching silently, a familiar feline sat perched on a wall during the early hours of the night, shielded from the gloomy rain that encapsulated both you and Satoru. The cat observed further, lifting a brown, furry paw to lick clean, fleeing the scene once more.

"Do you know this man, Mimi? Nana?” You, a preschool teacher, had asked two of your students, when a strange man had approached them, calling out to them in an irritatingly loud voice, waving his long limbs without a care.

“Unfortunately,” Mimiko sighed, to which you blinked. Mimiko was the quieter of the two twins, but she could be pretty blunt when needed. Megumi, who had been standing by your other side, simply glared at the male, finding his presence way more annoying than anticipated.

“Hey, that's rude! You should be thanking your uncle for picking you both up!” The man in question huffed, crossing his arms. “Kids these days, man.” He mumbled to himself, stopping short when he glanced up at you. You met eyes with him, freezing up. His gaze had you captivated. You looked into gorgeous blue eyes that held emotions you'd never experienced before, all hitting you within the same moment. Your breath hitched as you stared on, feeling the need to inhale deeply.

The man himself had been stunned, experiencing the same emotions you'd felt. He blinked, snapping you both out of your trance. “Well hello there,” he greeted with a bright grin, leaning back against his car. You purse your lips, glancing down at the three kids in front of you. Nanako seemed unamused, while Mimiko looked mortified. Megumi, on the other hand, had felt his blood boil, standing in front of you to protect you from this insolent fool! He couldn't believe this obnoxious man was making a move on you!

“How about you two sit down inside the car? We can head out to get some fast food?” He offered, to which the girls happily jumped into the expensive car. He turned back to face you, as you raised a brow at him. “My name's Satoru Gojo. I'm their dad's best friend. I'll be picking them up occasionally when their dad is busy. Hope that isn't too much of a problem for you, gorgeous.” He smiled charmingly, looking into your eyes to incite that same moment from earlier. Glancing down at Megumi, you gave him a smile and a pat on the head.

You finally sighed, giving him your name. His grin brightened, finding your name to be the most fascinating thing he'd ever heard, as he repeated the syllables endlessly. “Yes, that is my name,” you sighed in amusement, giving him a smile. For some reason, you felt drawn to him, and you couldn't explain why.

“And this is Megumi. He's one of my precious students.” You introduced the young boy, and he sneered at the man once Satoru met his gaze.

Satoru pursed his lips, nodding his head. “Oh, he looks precious, for sure..” Satoru mused, grinning down at the boy. You gave an unamused glance, huffing at the pure immature response from the man. Satoru blinked in response, clearing his throat.

“Anyways, I think we should exchange numbers, y'know? In case I'm coming to pick them up or you need to reach out to me for an emergency since Suguru might be busy with work.” you glanced up at him in amusement, finding it hard to refuse his offer. You agreed with a small glance towards Megumi, and you both exchanged numbers. You bid farewell to both the girls, then to Satoru as they drove off.

A week or so after, as the kids in your classroom napped, you planned out the next day, cleaning up the room a bit.

Meanwhile, Satoru was insisting with Suguru to pick up the girls again, finding it oddly difficult. “Come on, let me go pick up the girls again! You just rest, okay? I'll handle it, because I'm a good friend!” Satoru reasoned, to which Suguru raised a brow, crossing his muscled arms.

“Picking up my daughters isn't a tedious task, I enjoy it, y'know?” Suguru commented, unamused. Satoru sighed, groaning.

Finding this method to not be working, Satoru attempted something else. “I know! They're a joy to be around, that's exactly why I wanna pick them up again! And again! And again! So please?” He pleaded, to which Suguru sighed.

“Is it because of their teacher?” Suguru asked with a sigh, to which Satoru instantly froze up.

“Psh, no! What makes you think that?!” He laughed out loud, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand.

“Satoru, it's okay to admit it. I know she's beautiful, I get it.” Suguru assured his friend, finding the truth to be undeniable.

“Wait, you're not into her, are you?” Satoru asked, pausing his thoughts and not thinking about his attraction for a second in case his friend was already into you.

“No, Satoru. I'm not.” Suguru chuckled, finding humor in the situation. The white haired male let out a sigh or relief, wiping his brow.

“phew. Yeah, she's really hot. And pretty. And gorgeous. I swear Suguru the moment i made eye contact with her it was like love at first sight! Like it was like I'd seen her somewhere before, but also not? I can't explain it but we're soulmates, I can feel it, Suguru!” Satoru exclaimed dramatically, to which Suguru simply sighed, shaking his head.

“Just go already.” Suguru shooed him off, watching Satoru cheer and running off towards his car. And so he drove towards the preschool, even though school would be off for the girls thirty minutes later.

“Satoru? You're here way too early.” You mumbled, watching as the man peeked into the room, taking note of the kids sleeping. He looked up, lips formed into an ‘o’ as he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I was excited.” He explained as you both sat outside the classroom, and you raised a brow.

“Excited to pick up the girls?” You asked in amusement, to which he sputtered.

“Um.. yeah. Really excited to see them,” He mumbled, to which you nodded at him, encouraging him to continue.” “...and maybe you, too.” He mumbled the words hurriedly, to which you smiled.

“There we go. Not so hard to tell the truth, is it?” You teased, watching the man huff in response. He cleared his throat, shaking his head as he glanced back at you.

“You're really pretty, you know that?” He sighed dreamily, leaning his head on his palm as he spoke.

“Or so you've told, yes,” you chuckled, glancing down at your phone to check the time. Satoru took note of the picture you had as your wallpaper. It was you with your entire class.

“Say, did you always wanna be a preschool teacher?” He asked, curious about you.

You hummed, pursing your lips as you thought about your answer. “I mean, pretty much? I've always had a maternal love towards children. I knew I wanted to work with kids from a pretty young age. I think it's important to shape the youth with kindness, and I know if I can, I should.” You spoke gently, smiling up at him.

“That's really cool. You must be the oldest child in the family, huh?” He commented, thinking hard about what you would've been like as an elder sibling.

You chuckled at his words, shaking your head. “No, actually. I'm the youngest. Never really had a younger sibling to care for, but I always wanted to. So I guess that's probably why,” you shrugged, to which Satoru looked surprised.

“Do you want kids of your own one day?” He asked further, curious about everything to do with you. He knew you had a special relationship with all your students in the class, and he could imagine you'd make a wonderful mother. He can just see it in his future already. The thought made him feel giddy inside, already envisioning your guys’ future family of seven kids! Maybe seven was a stretch, but Satoru was willing to negotiate.

“Maybe? Probably. Really, it's just a matter of where life takes me.” you answered earnestly, glancing around at the view outside the preschool. “And what about you, Satoru?” You asked him with a smile, watching him think for a moment.

“I think so too, yeah.” He answered after a moment of silence, nodding his head at you. “You're quite young right now, yes? I think you're the same age as Suguru and I, he mentioned that one time.” Satoru noted, humming slightly.

“It's impressive, truly. He's raising two kids alone from a young age. And they're such beautiful little girls with the purest hearts ever.” You commented, finding Suguru's parenting skills to be truly impressive.

Satoru nodded along, smiling slightly. “We were all still kind of young when he adopted the two. We were quite stupid and unsure of what to do, but Suguru just played his role instantly. It was admirable, really.” He commented, stretching his legs out.

“I'm sure he's proud of the girls. All his efforts pay off the moment he sees how great they'll do in life. They're really clever, it's never failed to amaze me.” You chuckled, glancing at your phone once more. “I think most of my students are very clever. Megumi has a very keen sense of emotional intelligence, but he's not very good at communicating those emotions. But I know he's a great kid, and he'll do great things.” You commented, eyes softening at the mention of the child.

“Is Megumi someone important to you? You seem close to everyone, but especially to him.” Satoru asked, and you smiled.

“Megumi’s mother isn't present in his life, she passed away earlier. His father isn't the most… attentive to his cares and needs, and Tsumiki, his older sister. So Megumi used to walk to school and back. I've gotten through his thick shell, so I've been taking care of him more often. I don't know how long his father intends to stay, and there's no telling if he'll even come back sometimes from what Megumi tells me about his dad's business trips. And I've been thinking of legally adopting Megumi. By extension I'd be adopting Tsumiki as well, and I'm okay with that too.” You explained gently, and Satoru simply blinked, taking in your words.

He remained silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. “You really care for them, don't you?” He spoke softly, and you gave him a small, sweet smile, nodding your head.

“It's time to wake the kids up. Their parents should be arriving soon, as well.” You noted, getting up from your place to wake up the children. You quietly open the door to your classroom, allowing Satoru to step in. You turn on some of the lights, slowly approaching your children to wake them up. “Come on, guys. Your parents are coming soon! It's time to go home, hm?” You spoke quietly, gently rubbing their backs one by one.

And soon, they all begin to wake up, and you take your time with each child, helping them up and get freshened up as much as they can. You see Mimiko and Nanako continue to lay down, and you let it be, as Satoru was here anyways. Slowly but surely, each child gets picked up by their parents, leaving behind you, Megumi, Mimiko and Nanako, and Satoru. Megumi leaned against your frame, still sleepy from his nap.

“You again?” Nanako grumbled crankily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Yes, me again. Come on, let's get you home,” Satoru chuckled, grabbing Nanako into his arms, as the girl clung onto his neck, sleep still overtaking her mind. Mimiko frowns, holding out her arms to Satoru as well. Satoru wastes no time to lean down to grab the other girl, but you stop him, taking her into your own arms. You reach a hand to grab Megumi's hand, and he squeezes your palm as he walks alongside you, more conscious than the other two girls.

“You won't be able to carry two sleepy girls on your own, it's okay.” you explained, shutting the classroom door as you three began to walk towards Satoru's car. You both quickly place the now asleep girls into the car, quietly shutting the door.

“I'll give you a ride home?” Satoru suggested, rubbing his hands together. You smiled up at him, shaking your head.

“Thank you for the offer, Satoru. I've got my own car though, and I need to drop off Megumi, so that won't be necessary.” You explain politely, pointing to another car in the parking lot.

Satoru looked slightly disappointed, but he didn't say much otherwise. “Ah, I see. Well, would you be okay with.. going out to dinner with me, maybe? Or for lunch, or something of that sort. Some other day, of course! When you don't have classes.” He asked, eyes hopeful as he glanced down at you through frosted lashes.

You smiled up at him, letting out a small laugh. “I'd be delighted, Satoru.” You mumble fondly, unable to hold back your adoration towards the man you'd gotten to know. He grinned back at you, silently cheering.

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Let me know when your schedule frees up, then? And we can plan something. It's a date, then!” Satoru mused, to which you let out a laugh, eyes crinkling with a newfound fondness. Megumi, who had been silently judging this whole time, let out a groan, eyes scrutinizing Satoru.

“That was lame, dude.” He commented in a bored tone, unimpressed with Satoru's antics. Satoru gaped at the young boy in offense, and you let out another laugh, gently rubbing Megumi's head.

“Get home safely, Satoru.” You bid him farewell, and he grinned up at you, waving goodbye to both you and Megumi, to which the young boy pointedly ignored.

♡︎

I didn't realize you both were the girls’ fathers. Congratulations on your relationship.” You spoke with a serious face to the two men sitting in front of you. Normally, only Suguru would be in attendance for the parent-teacher meetings you had. But this time, Satoru was present with him.

Satoru gaped, waving his hands. “No, it's not like that! Come on!” Satoru whined, to which Suguru paid no mind.

“He insisted on tagging along, I tried my best to keep him out but even Mimi and Nana didn't want to be in the same room with him while I talked to you.” Suguru explained, and you let out a sound of understanding, nodding your head.

“That's alright, we'll just go over how the girls have been learning and behaving, as always.” You nodded, pulling out the files you'd made for both the girls.

Once the meeting had ended, you chatted with the two for a while, until Mimiko burst into the room, mumbling an ‘excuse me’.

“Papa, hurry! Come here!” She whisper-yelled, beckoning him over with an urgent look on her face. Suguru instantly got up from his seat, tending to his daughters instantly whenever they asked. That left you and Satoru in the room.

“You still haven't taken me up on that offer for dinner, y'know?” Satoru spoke after a beat of silence, to which you chuckled.

“I'm really sorry, Satoru. I've just been very busy these days with preparing for school days and all, but I should be free this weekend. Maybe we plan something then?” You suggested, to which he brightened up. You guys had been texting way more often over the course of the last few weeks, but you unfortunately never found the time to actually go on a proper date.

“You barely catch a break, how do you manage?” Satoru grumbled, leaning his arms against your desk.

You thought about it for a minute, though it didn't take you too much time to reach your answer. To see your students walk into school everyday and greet you happily, to be excited to learn and see you again, it fills you with an indescribable joy. It was heartwarming enough when they wrote you letters and brought you gifts, but seeing them come in almost everyday that they could, simply because they felt a genuine love and connection to you and your teaching environment. It made you feel accomplished.

You glance around the room where you sat, humming slightly. “Just seeing the kids walk in every early morning with a smile on their face, greeting me with a hug. It reminds me that everything I do is paying off, and these kids have a genuine joy when it comes to learning. I can't control how they are treated and how they feel in the future with future teachers, but I hope they can think back to this time and recognize the versions of themselves that loved learning,” you answered after a moment, tone soft and appreciative of the children you got to care for.

Satoru glanced up at you, taking in the way you spoke about the kids, and about how much enjoyment you got from knowing that those kids felt loved in your presence. “That's a really beautiful answer,” Satoru commented, to which you smiled at him, shaking your head.

“All the credit for the beauty goes to those kids who've made me feel as accomplished as I do. They truly are wonderful, and I know each and every one of them will go on to do great things.” You added, glancing at the files stacked on your table. You were finally done for the day, and it was time to leave. “How about we go and check on Suguru and the girls?” you suggested, and Satoru nodded, getting up off his chair to check in your classroom and the girls and their father.

As you both re-enter your classroom, you become acutely aware of the lack of presence in the room, with only Megumi standing by your desk, backpack strapped to his shoulders. Satoru gasped at the silence and lack of presence within the classroom, shaking his head in disbelief. “They left me!” He cried out dramatically, glancing back at you, as if asking you if what he was seeing was reality.

You let out a small laugh at the situation, unable to hold back from finding humor in the situation. “I'll drive you home. Or perhaps you can come over and I can cook us a nice dinner? As an apology.” You offered, patting Megumi's head once more as the young boy grumbled at the thought of the car ride back home being interrupted with Satoru's obnoxious voice.

Satoru glanced back at you with delight, finding himself growing excited just at the thought of trying your cooking. “That sounds wonderful!” He smiled brightly, nodding back at you.

You guide him and Megumi outside towards your car, after packing up your belongings into your bag. You three make your way into the car, with the drive home being way less quiet with Satoru's constant chatter. You didn't mind it, even for a moment. But Megumi surely did, and it was evident. He sat in the passenger's seat, not allowing Satoru to have the seat.

“Alright, Megumi. See you on Monday! Call me if you need anything, okay?” You wave goodbye to the young boy, who nodded his head, mumbled a ‘take care’.

Satoru moves into the seat beside you, and you drive off towards your house, Satoru continued to chat about his life, detailing his day to day routine to you.

And as you entered your home, you were greeted by the sight of your cute cat waiting for you. You cooed down at her, leaning down to pet her head. “Oh, a cat! What's the name?” Satoru peered down in delight, letting out inaudible noises at the kitty.

“That's my baby, her name's honey.” you answer as you hang your coat by the coat hanger at the entrance of your home, kicking off your shoes. Satoru does the same, watching closely as your cat purred up at him, cuddling up against his leg. “She seems to really like you, I'm surprised.” You comment, pleasantly surprised by how she warmed up to Satoru. You guide him into your living room, gesturing to the couch.

“Make yourself at home, I'll cook something up. I have my ingredients pre prepped for dinner, so it shouldn't take too much time.”

Satoru hummed, following you into the kitchen. He sits down at the marble countertop in your kitchen, with honey jumping into his lap, finding herself curling into a comfortable position. “I'll watch you. Cook dinner, that is.” Satoru mused, fingers running over honey's brown fur.

You smile, pulling out the ingredients for pasta from your fridge. “I hope you don't mind some tomato sauce pasta.” You chuckled, to which Satoru perked up.

“That sounds really delicious. I've been craving pasta for a while, just never got around to eating it. This is a good opportunity, though.” Satoru nodded, watching as you moved around your kitchen, opening drawers and pulling out ingredients and tools, the layout of your kitchen engraved into your head.

“Ever the celebrity Gojo Satoru, unable to get around to eating pasta? Sounds like a stretch,” you teased, watching him roll his eyes lightheartedly.

“Not a celebrity, just cursed to belong to such a family.” Satoru sighed dramatically, glancing down at the cat in his arms. “Say, where's the water?” I'm thirsty.”

You hum, pointing to the water dispenser you had, then to a cabinet above you. “Glasses are up here. Help yourself. There's apple juice in the fridge, if you want.” You answered, busying yourself with dicing an onion into finely sliced pieces. You continue diligently working on the tomato sauce, while satoru slides up behind you, reaching up easily to grab the glass in the overhead cabinet.

He leans forward, taking his sweet time grabbing a glass. “Which one should I grab?”

You tilt your head up to see his towering figure behind yours, looking down at you with an innocent smile. “Whichever one you want, Satoru.” You answer, resuming your chopping with the male still pressed up behind you.

“Oh, but the ones on the left look fancy..” he whistles, grabbing one of the glasses in his hand, as if making a really important decision. “The ones on the right look like they're more for daily use, but the ones on the left are just cuter.. what shall I do..” he stalls, as if deep in thought.

“Just take the ones on the left, it's fine. The way you're taking your time with this is really making me wonder if it's truly a matter of what glass you want. I'm starting to think you just like being close to me.” You mumble sarcastically, to which Satoru scoffs, shaking his head.

“This is truly a big decision, sweetheart. Don't pressure me to make a decision quicker!” Satoru whines, laying his head on top of yours. You let out a laugh, gently nudging your elbow back into his stomach. He lets out a dramatic cry, leaning against your back. “Ouch! That was mean!”

You raise an eyebrow, saying nothing otherwise. Satoru stared back for a moment, before sighing, reluctantly pulling back to drink a glass of apple juice as he sulked.

♡︎

“So, how is it?” You asked, clutching onto your dining table with anticipation as you see Satoru take a bite from his food. The pasta slips past his mouth, the flavors bursting on his tongue the moment they touch his palate.

He looks up, eyes lit with delight. “It's really good. Really good!” He nods enthusiastically, taking another bite. “Not exaggerating, I think this is the best pasta I've ever had.” He mumbled between bites, stuffing his face full.

“That is a bit of an exaggeration, I think.” you let out a laugh, taking a bite from your own plate of pasta. “You're a very messy eater, Satoru.” You chuckled, reaching out with a tissue to wipe the corners of his mouth clean. He simply shrugged, consuming another bite from his food.

“I'll clean up after I finish my plate. I might even go back for seconds, hope that isn't too bad for you.” He grinned, gulping down another sip from his apple juice. You watched him with a look of admiration, feeling yourself drawn to him in ways you've never been drawn to anyone else.

“I don't know why I still feel so inclined to you, even after your messy eating habits.” You sighed playfully, shaking your head. The man in question paused his eating, glancing up at you with a look of disbelief.

“You..” he trailed off, shaking his head. “So it wasn't just me, huh?” Satoru murmured, and you smiled up at him.

“No, it wasn't just you.” You nodded, glancing down at honey for a moment as you prepared yourself to continue. “I don't know what it was. About you. But it was like.. the second I saw you look into my eyes, I knew there was just something.. and it's driving me insane. I've never in my life felt such a way before, with anyone. I pride myself on my emotional intelligence and I'm good at deciphering how I feel and how others feel within seconds. It's something that comes in handy, when you're teaching kids,” you sigh, glancing up at him. But this.. it's left me stumped. I don't know what to make of any of this, it was like I felt a truckload of emotions festering up for eons hit me in just seconds. And you haven't left my mind since. I feel myself waking up in a cold sweat at night, sometimes I wake up sobbing because I've started feeling such an absence of something I had otherwise never felt. And I know it has to do with you because everywhere I look I see your blues in the morning sky, in the colors of a child’s jacket, in the confines of my classroom.”

You inhale deeply, running a hand through your hair. “Gojo Satoru, you haunt my every waking moment since the day I locked eyes with you.” you confess sincerely, watching his grip tighten on his fork, a shiver running down his spine.

“You mean that?” He asked quietly, words almost inaudible. You nod, meeting his gaze once more. He lets out a deep breath, leaning his head back towards the ceiling, closing his eyes shut as he ponders on it all. The connection you had was undeniable. Could you be soulmates? But that wouldn't make sense, it's more of a hypothetical and fictional situation than it is a reality.

It's not like the attraction was just something out of the blue. No, not at all. There was a sense of familiarity to you, one that went beyond normal notions of feeling a sense of nostalgia. It was like it ascended this realm, and the ones before that. “As if I knew you in another life..” Satoru mumbled aloud, and you blinked, feeling everything click in your mind.

“You're right. It is like that.” You nod fervently, pushing up from your place on the table. Satoru does the same, not letting his eyes stray far from you. He takes a step towards you, almost bumping into the table. He lets out a breath, pulling you into his arms. And somehow, everything just felt right in that moment.

“You fit like a glove in my arms,” Satoru commented with a dopey smile, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other brushed through your hair, cupping your face.

You grinned up at him, kissing his palm. He let out a shuddering breath, leaning closer to your face. “Can I?” He asked softly, eyes glancing between your own cloudy ones, and your lips.

“Why rush? We've all the time in the world, Satoru. Let's take it one step at a time, okay?” You mumble, placing your palms against his face, thumbs tracing his cheekbones.

He inhales sharply, swallowing the saliva forming in his mouth. “I'm worried… I won't have time, I feel.. What if something goes wrong? Or,” he pauses, glancing to the side. “Something happens?” He whispers, closing his eyes as he leans his forehead against yours.

“Satoru, nothing will happen. You can't keep living inside your worries. We're here right now, together. So let's live it as it is. Don't worry about the ‘what if’s and the formalities. Everything will be alright.” You speak to him in the softest tone you could muster, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“This is our life, hm? Nobody can take that away from us.” You add, letting out another breath. And maybe the words were wishful thinking, but was it so wrong to indulge in something that felt so right? It was as if this was something you both needed. As if nothing had been right until this very moment.

“Yeah. You're right.” Satoru mumbled, suddenly realizing just what was happening. And in an instant, a heat had risen to his cheeks and ears, his grin becoming more sheepish. “You look really pretty up close, y'know?” He commented sweetly, to which you let out a small laugh.

“Why, thank you, Satoru. I think you're beautiful as well.” You compliment him back with a sweet, almost teasing smile, feeling your heart warm at the look on his face.

---

The sound of shuffling can be heard, and a bleary, sleepy Satoru stirs awake, eyes still blurry from having been awoken so suddenly. On instinct, he pats the space beside him, a small sigh and somber smile coming over his lips as he feels the cold and empty spot beside him. He glances over to his desk to check the time. Nine in the morning. His eyes darted to the photo frame on the desk. From yours and his wedding day. Cheeky and sincere smiles on both your lips.

“Pa, you're finally awake,” whined out the dramatic voice of Gojo Satoru's daughter, tugging at his blanket from the edge of the bed. The man perked up, sitting up to pull the light of his life into his arms.

“Good morning, sweetie! How'd my little girl sleep, huh?” He asked with a bright grin, peppering kisses over his daughter's face.

She smiled up at him, blue eyes strikingly similar to his own flashed up at him, as if sparkling. “Really good! Woke up super early too! Woke Gumi up a while ago too!” She beamed with pride, and Satoru's heart soared with joy.

“Good job, sweetie. I'm proud of you.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to her head as he cuddled her closer into his chest, placing a large, protective hand on her back.

His daughter glanced over at the bedside table, then up at her dad, pouting. “I miss mama,” she mumbled, letting out a loud sigh.

Satoru mirrored the expression, nodding his head. “I know, love, I know. I miss her too.” He mumbled, patting her head. “Come on, let's get ready for the day and wait for breakfast, hm?” He grinned down at her, to which she cheered, leaping up off his lap towards the bathroom.

Once inside, he pulled out a stool from underneath the sink, allowing his daughter to step up to reach the sink easily. He grabbed her toothbrush that they kept in his and your bedroom, spreading a sufficient amount of toothpaste over it. He grabbed his own toothbrush from beside yours, putting the same toothpaste over his toothbrush. The duo then brushed their teeth together, cracking jokes in between. Satoru reached into the cabinets beside the mirror with ease, grabbing two hair bands from inside.

They start with cleansing their faces, Satoru using your cleanser, while your guys’ daughter uses her own face wash. Once all dried, the two apply some of your moisturizer and lip balm, smacking their lips together in an obnoxiously loud manner, giggling at one another.

“Come on, we need to feed honey as well,” Satoru ushered his daughter out, and she rushed towards the beloved cat, still as quiet and wise as ever, waiting patiently by her food bowl.

“Good morning again, Megumi!” Satoru's daughter grinned, giving her brother a small hug first thing in the morning. She skipped her way into the kitchen, eyes lighting up.

“Good morning, honey!” She cooed out at the cat, and Satoru was hit with the nostalgia from years back, whenever he'd witness you greet your beloved cat in the morning. He smiles at the sight, beginning to pull out honey's cat food from the same cabinet you'd always kept it in, while his daughter busied herself sitting up on the chairs by the marble countertop with the help of Megumi, still fresh from the memories of Satoru's first time sitting there.

Honey, the beloved cat of the household simply blinked silently, beginning her trek towards the door of the home. She approaches silently, going unnoticed like she always had. Everytime, in every lifetime, she'd known when to flee, and she'd done so without so much as a bat of an eye, her existence holding meaning in the hearts of many, especially you and Satoru, but was always overshadowed by the sorrow of reality. She was beloved, but only ever known as a beloved cat. That's as far as her acknowledgement went.

“Honey? Where are you headed off to, huh?” Satoru called out, and the feline paused, turning back at the call of her name. Satoru stood beside his daughter, who matched the same look as her father as the two curiously glanced at the cat.

She turns back to the door, letting out a meow as she sits by it. Suddenly, the door turns, opening itself. And you walked in, carrying a box of breakfast pastries and treats. You kicked off your shoes, cooing a greeting at your beloved cat, before turning back to your husband and daughter.

“Mama, you're home!” The girl squealed in excitement, rushing over to you and embracing your legs, nuzzling into your stomach. “I missed you!”

“Good morning, you guys.” You smiled, rubbing Megumi's head like you always did, the teen simply grumbling in response.

You let out a small laugh, running a hand through your daughter's hair next. “You miss me every Sunday when I go out to get breakfast for us, huh?” You teased, shuffling over to place the box of pastries onto the marble countertop. You pulled your daughter into your arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. You walk towards your husband, giving him a smile as you lean forward, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” You greet him as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace.

“Good morning. We missed you loads,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “As we do every Sunday.” Satoru teased, mimicking your words from a second ago. You rolled your eyes at him, giving him a kiss to his cheek.

“I got breakfast, like i always do on Sundays,” you spoke with a pointed look at Satoru, and he let out a laugh.

“Did you get my chocolate croissants?” He asked, mouth already salivating. You nodded up at him, placing your daughter onto the surface of the countertop, carefully pulling out the box with the assortment of treats.

“Yup. And I got your tea. Extra sweetened.” You chuckled, carefully grabbing the plates and utensils. “I called Suguru, he said he'd be coming over with Mimi and Nana soon, too. Will Yuuji and Nobara be joining us?” You turned to Megumi, asking the teen about his two friends. He nodded in response, and you grinned. “Good thing I got extras then, huh?” You joked, to which your daughter giggled, somehow always finding you funny.

“Yuuji’s coming over with his half brother.” Megumi added, and you nodded along, carefully setting up the dining table.

Satoru smiled at the sight, eyes welled up with pure love and adoration. He remembers how he'd wanted seven kids with you at one point, and how he's basically already got that. Your beautiful daughter, then there was Megumi, Nobara, Yuuji, Choso, Mimiko, Nanako. Seven kids. And as he watched how you interacted with your daughter and your now son, the sounds of your laughter filling his heart with joy.

It felt like an unknowing weight had been lifted from his chest, and he was finally able to breathe properly, after what felt like a lifetime. And as he took your warm hands into his own, he felt like maybe, this was finally a lifetime where he truly felt your presence harmonize with his own.

“Satoru, quit staring at me! help me out!” You called out to him, snapping him out of his trance. And as your friends started to roll in, the sound of chatter and happiness echoing off the walls, Satoru felt himself inclined to kiss you once more.

“Hey there, gorgeous.” Satoru mumbled, whisking you away from the crowd to pull you into his arms, holding you tight against him.

“What's with all your sudden clinginess, hm?” You asked him, Satoru swaying you along in a corner, away from the rush of the people.

“Just missed you, is all.” Satoru mumbled, kissing your neck. You glanced up at him, lashes fluttering as you turned around in his arms, bringing yours around his neck as you leaned on the tip of your toes, giving him a lingering kiss. “I love you.” Satoru declared between kisses, and you couldn't help yourself from smiling.

“And I love you, Satoru. In every lifetime.” You whisper to him, feeling his pulse against the side of your chest, the one devoid of a beating heart. You felt complete, with Satoru in your arms, and a love that shone through every life you two had ever lived.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Most iconic Xie Lian moments according to me

Contains spoilers!!!

"Xie Lian didn't know whether to laugh or cry"

Keeping every memento of his worst time ever as a reminder of why being kind and forgiving is worth it

When he runs off after he gives Hua Cheng CPR that one time pretending he's looking for his hat

When he keeps roasting Xiao Ying's looks even as she's dying

When he was a prince and he was told his future looked dark and he said that can't be cause he only wears white

Eating food off the ground

Building his own temple, we love a girl boss

When he pet E'Ming like a little puppy after being explicitly told not to ever touch it under any circumstances

Putting Banyue in a pickle jar

When Wuming said he would follow Xie Lian to the death and Xie Lian went "youre already dead"

Breaking rocks on his chest for money

Being trampled to death as general Hua, doormat core

The whole Fangxin Guoshi arc, whew 🥵

Carrying around a big ass bag of scraps everywhere

When he became jealous of Hua Cheng's special someone not realizing the very obvious fact that he was Hua Cheng's special someone actually

Slapping tf out of Qi Rong for making fun of Hua Cheng being blind in one eye

Pretending he had no idea who Nan Feng and Fu Yao were

When Mu Qing and Feng Xin were freaking about how creepy the Ten Thousands Gods Cave was whilst he found it incredibly romantic

Being a bit too into pretending to be Hua Cheng's puppet on Mount Tonglu

Feeding into E'Ming's praise kink

When he disguised himself as a pregnant lady to be possessed by the evil fetus spirit and it worked

When he disguised himself as a woman so badly he looked hideous and needed help to not look like that

When he spent the entirety of the Xuan Ji capturing business in his wedding dress disguise, including meeting Pei Xiu like that

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts-

When his response to the sex pollen was to kill himself

"I do not worship god, i am god!"

Every single sweet and tender interaction with Hua Cheng's butterflies that everyone else is terrified of

When everyone ignored him in the communication array because he was cringe

Getting drunk on a tombstone with little ghost fire Hua Cueng after his life fell apart

Controversial but i think his calamity era was also iconic and very sexy

When Heaven's Eye said his lips are exuding evil energy and he turned bright red

And then later when Heaven's Eye said the evil energy is inside him and he immediately changed the subject

Recognizing literally everyone despite their disguises but keeping quiet about it not to embarrass them.

Calling Yin Yu boring and forgettable looking to his face

Defending Hua Cheng, evil ghost king, in front of the whole entire Heavenly Emperor

When he was working in the rice field with Hua Cheng and he kept staring

Being poor

Having ridiculously bad luck

Ascending three times

Big daddy issues even with his dad still alive

When his life had just fallen apart and he didnt know how much a lantern could cost because he had been ridiculously rich all his life

Holding up a massive temple from falling apart???

Kissing Hua Cheng for spiritual energy in front of literally everyone more than once

When he could hear rats talking???

Adopting children

Not iconic Xie Lian behaviors

His abhorrent cooking

Trying to kill himself???