#i don't want to see anyone end up where i was

[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 2 - There's Pleasure In Pain

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, mentions of torture, suicidal thoughts, childbirth, blood, medical stuff, medical inaccuracies.

AN: Yes I know about the show 'this is going to hurt' I haven't seen it but from what I do know it's good so check it out. Also as an aspiring midwife this was so fun to write.

Part 1 - next

Enjoy <3

You don't know how long it’s been. 

Hours? A day? 

More people have questioned you, with new questions.

‘Where was the convoy heading?’

‘Who give you the intel.’

‘What are the Americans up to?’

Some of the questions you don’t even know the answers to. Makes it all the more easier to ignore them. It feels relentless, like it’s never going to stop. Death would be easier. 

You remember one of the first things you were told in training, a dead medic is no use to anyone. You remember once during a training exercise you ignored Price’s order to fall back, instead you ran into the field to pull someone out. 

It was the angriest you’d seen Price get. He screamed at you in front of everyone, chewed you out with the entire platoon watching. That was the night he told you he loved you, they all did. You’d never seen them get so emotional before, especially over a training exercise. 

‘You’re not allowed to put yourself in danger like we do. You need to keep us alive, and we’ll keep you alive.’ You remember John saying that, the way he apologised for screaming at you even though he was in the right. The sex that night was amazing. 

It makes you smile thinking about them. You’ve been thinking about them alot when you’re not being tortured. You have to assume they’re not coming for you, that's what you were taught. If you’re ever captured; don’t talk, don’t trade, don’t let them break you. Not that you have a choice over the last part, it’s all a test of willpower. 

You wonder how long it will be before they break you. You can handle the waterboarding to some extent, these people are evil though, terrorists, the worst of the worst. They don’t care about human rights, they’re not answering to any UN or even their own countries' laws. These people could do whatever they wanted to you and there is nothing you can do.

You secretly hope they’re coming for you, you’d like to imagine Simon and John tearing up buildings to find you, breaking the rules and hunting down every last person who laid a finger on you. They’re soldiers though, they have orders to follow, other people’s lives are at stake not just yours. 

You’re a liability now. They have no way of knowing what’s happening to you, if you’ve talked or where you are. You hope they know deep down you’ll keep your mouth shut. You’ll keep them safe, even if it is from a distance. 

The door to your room opens and you stand. A man walks in and grips your arm tight. You’ve stopped struggling, there’s no point. He walks you past the room you’re usually taken to, it makes your stomach drop. Somethings wrong, something’s changed. Maybe this is it and they’re going to kill you. 

You hear a woman scream, you dig your heels into the ground. The man says something in Arabic then continues to drag you along. This is bad, there is no way this ends well. You can still hear the woman screaming. Maybe they have someone else they’re torturing. He stops you outside a door and knocks. 

A few seconds later it opens. A man is standing there, he looks young, even with the beard, he’s the only person you’ve seen without his face covered. You hear a woman groan, he moves to the side and you see a woman bent over a table with another woman rubbing her back. 

You’re still taking in the scene when the man in front of you says something then pulls you into the room. The door is closed behind you, you look at him confused. 

“Do you know how to deliver a baby?” He asks, you recognise the accent. He’s the person who patched up your arm. 

“Do I look like I know how to deliver a baby?” 

“No, but you’re a woman and a medic.” He says “She’s Khaled's wife. If this baby dies he’ll kill me.” 

“Great, he's not going to like it if I kill her.” You scoff. This can’t be happening. 

“You’re dead anyway.” He says, it’s like a knife to the heart. Now you want to help even less. The other woman rubbing her back asks something in Arabic. 

“She’s been in labor for 13 hours, I think something is wrong, she’s not progressing.” The man asks. 

“Then take her to a hospital. I don’t know how to do this, I don’t even know where to start.” You say holding your hands up. The woman screams again and it makes your head ring. You look round the room, there’s a bed and some basic supplies but not much. 

The man goes over to a book he has laid out on the bed and brings it over. To your surprise it’s in english. 

“This is all I have, I’ve done everything so far.” You scan over the book and turn the page, you see diagrams of anatomy and pictures of a vaginal birth. You try to think of anything you know that could help. You’ve seen documentaries, you’ve learnt some things, you close your eyes for a second pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Okay. Get her on the bed.” You say looking over at her. The man orders the women around, as she moves you see supplies on the table. You go over looking for gloves.

“Do you have anything sterile?” You ask, turning to look at him. He shakes his head.

“My bag, you must have taken it when you kidnapped me. It has sterile supplies in it.”

“We’ve used it already.” He says.

“All of it?” You ask shocked. There were enough supplies in there to last at least a week. 

“We needed the supplies.” He says. You sigh pulling on some gloves. What you have will just need to do. You go over to the bed and he follows, the woman's laid back hair is stuck to her face as her friend grips her hand and whispers at her in arabic. 

You let the adrenaline calm you, you ground yourself before you sit on the end of the bad. She looks down at you and grits her teeth through the contraction. Shit, you should be counting them right the time between them. You don’t have a watch you start counting in your head. 

“Do you know how far apart the contractions are?” You ask. He asks the woman who replies. 

“2 minutes sometimes 5 minutes.” He says. That’s good right? Means she might be ready to push soon.

“Has she had a baby before?” You ask. 

“This is her 6th.” 

“6th?” You turn back to look at him. You’re not sure what to do with that info though, Does that make her more or less of a high risk. At least she probably knows what to do by now, she probably knows more than you. 

“Can you ask her to pull her legs up. I need to check internally.” He talks and she nods, her friend helping her get comfortable - well as comfortable as she can be. You’re not sure you’ll be able to tell how dilated she is, it’s more to check if everything feels right. Although, you’re not sure what the vagina of a woman in labor is supposed to feel like. 

You smile at her, you have to be confident, she needs to have faith in you. You’re trying to be as gentle as you can, you doubt she’s had any pain relief. You don’t envy her right now, going through labor for 13 hours like this, in this heat, you do feel sorry for her. 

“I can feel the head.” You say, it gives you a boost of confidence. “Can you ask her if she’s had any urges to push?” 

You look over at her as she nods. You pull your hand out, you look down at blood on your fingers, your stomach sinks. 

“Is that bad?” The man asks looking over.

“I don’t think it’s fresh. It could be normal, she is pushing a baby out.” You say taking the gloves off. You walk over to the table to grab a towel and he joins you.

“What should we be worried about?” He asks in a low voice even though you don’t think the women can speak English. We, there's no we, it makes a lump form in your throat.

“Hemorrhage. I’m assuming you don’t have blood.” You say, he shakes his head. So that's a death sentence. 

“The cord could wrap around the baby's neck.” He says. That could be happening right now and you have no way of knowing. You turn back to look at her. There’s no way to monitor the baby right now, you have no idea if it’s in distress and that could be why the labor is taking so long. 

“If she’s having urges to push, maybe she could try?” You say. 

“What if that makes things worse?” 

“I don’t know you’re not exactly set up for a cesarean.” You say. He sighs, you can tell he’s nervous. You should be nervous but you think the surge of adrenaline is keeping you going. Besides, what's the worst that could happen to you? They kill you? They’re probably planning on that anyway. 

There’s a knock at the door and the man goes over to answer it. You watch him out of the corner of your eye hearing him talk. You look back down at the tools. You pick up another pair of gloves and a towel and go back over to the bed. 

You lay the towel out and pull the gloves on as the door closes and he comes back over to you.

“Have you ever done CPR on a baby before?” You ask him. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

“Only in practice.” You turn looking up at him confused. “I’m a doctor, well I was training to be one.” 

“You should be doing this, not me.” You scoff shaking your head

“I wanted to be a neurologist.” He says, you sigh, you don’t care, you’re mad he didn’t tell you. 

“Do you have something to clamp the cord with?” You ask looking over at him, he goes over to the table and comes back with an actual clamp. You take it from him and place it on the bed. The woman groans again and you look over at her.  

“Tell her we’re going to try pushing, after the next contraction.” You say getting yourself comfortable and moving her legs so they’re apart. You feel awkward all of a sudden, this is definitely not something you thought you would ever be doing, especially not here of all places, as a fucking hostage. 

You look down-holyfuckingshit. There’s the head. 

“Push, push, tell her to push.” You call as you move your body to get your hands into position. You’re not really sure what you're going to do. Support the head right? Don’t let it fall out of your hands. You’re shaking as she pushes and the head comes out. You see eyes, a nose and mouth. 

The lips are slightly blue, it makes you hold your breath. 

“Tell her keep going, she’s doing great.” You say. You need her to keep going, you need to get this baby out. As soon as the shoulders are through the rest is easy, it just flops out. You look up at her and smile as you reach over for the clamp. 

“I need another clamp.” You say, you place the baby on a towel. 

Why is it not crying? It should be crying. 

You wipe its face, nose and eyes. Cry dammit, you’ve never wanted to hear a baby cry more than anything. 

“Here.” He says handing you another clamp. You turn the baby on its side and start rubbing his back. You’ve seen people do this on TV before. 

“Come on, come on baby.” You mumble. When it cries you almost start too. You roll it on its back as its crying rings in your ears. You take the clamp out his hand. He has the scissors too, you nod at him. 

The woman is shuffling on the bed, she’s asking something. “She wants to know the sex.” the man asks. 

“B-boy. It’s a boy.” The words catch in your throat the adrenaline is wearing off now, you swallow hard you need to keep it together. Your hands shake as you cut the cord. The other woman has moved over to you holding her hands out. You nod, wrapping the baby and handing it to her.

You hear a knock on the door and the doctor leaves you. Or you guess he’s not really a doctor. You look back down between her legs. You’re not sure what to do now, you’ll have to wait for the after birth right? 

She’s not bleeding out though, that’s a good thing. You’re taking your gloves off looking over at the woman stroking her baby's head. You let yourself smile, holy shit you just delivered a baby. Johnny would love to hear about that. Your smile fades as you remember where you are. 

“They want to take you back.” The doctor says as he comes over to you. You nod looking at the person standing at the door. As you get up the woman calls out for you saying something in Arabic. You look over at the doctor. 

“She says thank you. And she hopes you have a safe journey home.” He looks away from you. You turn and smile at her nodding your head. 

“Congratulations.” You say and go over to the door. 

“Oh by the way.” You say turning back to him. “The placenta, when it comes, make sure it’s complete.” 

“How will I know if it’s complete?” He asks. 

“Maybe there’ll be something in the book.” You say shrugging. He nods as the man in the door reaches out, gripping your arm and pulling you out. 

___

The door to your cell opens. You watch as the doctor comes in carrying a plate of food and a bottle of water. Suddenly your stomach grumbles and your lips smack together as you realise how dry your mouth is. 

He sets them down on the slab of concrete you think is supposed to be a bed. You look over on the plate, there’s flatbread and what looks like hummus. You don’t care what it is, you’re so hungry you’ll eat anything. 

You look back over at him, if you eat you’re breaking down your defences, gathering your strength just so they can torture you more. You are so hungry though, the weaker you get the more likely you are to give up intel you know you shouldn’t. 

“It’s not poisoned or anything.” He says you look over at him, you hadn't even thought about that. 

“How’s the baby?” 

“Good, they’re both good.” He says leaning against the door. 

“Where did you study?” You ask. 

“America, Princeton university.” He says. 

“Fuck me, and you chose to come here?” You scoff. He doesn’t reply, pressing his lips together. 

“You should eat, you might not get another chance. They won’t leave the plate in here.” He says nodding at the food.

“What? I deliver your leader's son and I get some hummus?” You spit at him, you want the food less now. 

“Better than letting you starve.” He says. Starvation would be a pretty horrible way to die. You shuffle over to the plate, opening the water bottle first and trying not to drink it down so fast. You can’t help it though, you don’t even care that it’s warm, it feels like you haven’t had a drink in weeks. 

When you’re done you put it back down letting out  breath. You pick up one of the flatbreads and pull some off dipping it into the hummus. 

“Why’d you leave America?” You ask. 

“I couldn’t stand it. I thought it was the way to a better life. Then I saw all the abominations, I had to leave.” He says, you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Why are you here fighting in a war that isn’t yours to fight?” He asks, theres hostility in his voice. 

“You keep blowing shit up in our country.” You say as you dip more bread. 

“You’re special forces or something aren’t you?” It makes you stop chewing, you look up at him. 

“I’m a medic.” You say.

“No ones ever lasted through torture the way you do. Most of them give up after a few hours, or a day.” He says. So it’s been longer than a day, you don’t know if you should be glad or not. It’s been over 24 hours and they still haven't come. 

You look down at the food, suddenly it’s sitting heavy in your stomach. You remember the feeling of ingesting all the water and the feeling of it coming back out when your stomach’s full. You put the bread down and push the plate away. 

“My name is Sayyid.” He says bending down to pick up the plate. 

"I'm not going to tell you my name." You say. He nods pressing his lips together.

"Good luck" He says, nodding and leaving the room. You don't need luck, you need to get the hell out of here.

___

The car ride went in silence. No witty remarks from Johnny. There’s no filling the deafening silence, the only noise is coming from the engine and the wheels turning on the dirt roads. 

48 hours that's how much time Lawell could realistically buy them, if Shepherd was going to send shadows after them they have to move quick. Ghost pulls the car up to the building. 

This is the closest they can get to the next town without being spotted, there's an al-qatala base there. That’s where they’ll get intel, that's where they’ll find out where you are. It’s too late now though, the journey to get here was long. 

“Gaz, Soap clear the place, we’ll wait here.” Price says as Ghost turns the engine off. There’s no reply, just the sound of doors opening and closing. Price watches them walk round the car and over to the front door. The building will be empty, as soon as they’ve confirmed that though, they can hide the car. 

“I shouldn't have put her at the back.” Price says as he watches Gaz and Soap enter the building. 

“It was the right call.” Ghost replies. Price sighs, yeah it was, he didn’t expect things to go so wrong though. Ghost's hand lands on his thigh, he looks over at him. He can see the softness in his eyes. 

“We’ll get her back, John.” 

“I know, I just hope we’re not too late.” 

next

Banners by plum98

[twstfanblog]

Heyyyyy so uhhhhh…

What if the mc back in their world was a slave? Not servant like jamil, just, straight up slave where their opinion didn’t matter :( n they r female, afab, pronounce she/they? Hopefully nothing bad happened but people who get slaves r bad people so :((( overblot boys pls 🙏🥺

I feel like they would all threaten crowley to absolutely NOT look for a way to send mc home n to stop making her do his things cause that reminds her of back home in a very bad way :(

N then they comfort n hold the mc cause they r safe n wont have to be treated like shit anymore :(

They will punch anyone who treats em like shit

Which practically everyone in school did when they arrived at NRC, and they just thought ‘this is normal’. :(

Overblot Boys React to Slave Reader

Overblot Boys x Reader

Riddle

Lowkey saw you as an ideal student. Polite, respectful, and mindful of the rules. So he wouldn't notice anything past a few odd ticks that he himself wouldn't fully question since his own upbringing was shitty.

It takes him and Ace having an argument, Riddle brings up that Ace can learn a thing or two from you on being a respectful student. And Ace fires back on you being a SLAVE. Of course, his overbearing ass would love that. And Riddle has to really think about what kinda person that makes him that he didn't even notice.

He talks to you, wanting personal confirmation on what Ace had blurted out. Once he gets the confirmation, his attitude gets much softer. You don't get as harsh treatment for rule-breaking, but he's still stern about them.

End game, he makes up a secondary set of rules for you only. Rules like 'We say something if we are uncomfortable' or 'We are allowed to say No'. He just gets much softer but remains true on rules being important. He just also stresses that you should have your own personal rules now.

Leona

Clocked immediately you came from a background of servitude, though he wasn't aware how severe it was.

He didn't plan on getting invovled but his little bleeding heart took Ruggie under his wing for a reason. It was one part pity and mostly annoyance seeing you getting bullied by his dorm everyday.

You basically get 'Leona's Servant' boot camp with Ruggie suddenly. He teaches you how Leona likes his laundry tended to and what snack flavors he prefers. It's a smooth transition from slave to servant until Ruggie tells you it's free game to steal from Leona.

Leona never brings it up, but he knows your old home was not a good environment. He also knows he can't just fling you into a healthier dynamic with those around you, so he'll do it slowly and sneakily. Ruggie is the perfect one to bridge the gap for him to start spoiling you.

Azul

Knew something was off but had no real frame of reference. He would make little theories and try to figure out why you act the way you do. He only started thinking you had come from a background of servitude when you follow orders so quickly.

Honestly doesn't know how to feel because he did do slavery in tricking the contracted students into working at the lounge against their will. He's not entirely sure how to save face with you after he's come across as a cruel and unfair slaver. Lowkey uses his overblot aftermath as an excuse for a fresh start with you.

He starts treating you kinder, making sure to address you properly and showing that he respects you. People from his dorm follow his lead, at least. The Tweels are part-time bodyguards, making your old bullies more hesitant to start anything because an eel might slip out of a crack or something.

Azul is a sneaky one too, slowly helping you raise your standard of how you should be treated by others. If you get him blabbing long enough, he'll slip into just stating how precious you are to him.

Jamil

I'm sorry, even with the English sanitation, Jamil’s situation can only come across as slavery to me. He's a very well cared for slave because Kalim adores him, but a slave none the less.

It's a little jarring to him to see someone who really could understand. But he's so used to keeping himself guarded he never reached out in a friendly sense. Treating you more like a new coworker; helpful but distant. It wasn't until you accidently broke something in Scarabia and nearly had a panic attack when Kalim looked at you does he realize how severe punishment was back in your world.

Gets much softer to you. It's sad because he does love and care about you, but he would not allow you to be with him long term. You've managed to come to a new world where your old masters can't reach you, you're free. Don't waste it following him back into a life of servitude.

Jamil would understand you the best so he'd be the one to really push and guide you to trying new experiences with your freedom. Wants you to be selfish and use your friends' kindness to make your life better. If he never gets his dream of being able to travel the world he wants you to be able to.

(Should the miracle happen and he and Kalim have the conversation finally, Jamil would go globe trotting with you. He legit has thoughts of just not going back and disappearing with you.)

Vil

I don't think he'd mean anything malicious by it. But he would end up treating you like a purse dog for a while.

Vil has a strong and cemented personality and sense of worth. Dealing with someone as passive as an abused slave, he would easily bulldoze over them and not really notice. Because he'd basically have you on the 'Betterment Plan' he has Epel.

He saw the potential and just kept going because you never said stop. Lots of beauty routines, he picks outfits for you for outings, basically has you as his shadow before either Rook or Epel bring up how he's running you ragged.

Vil never dealt with someone who's come from the situation you did. The very idea that 'No' wasn't a boundary you were ever allowed horrified him for a bit. But like the queen he is, he doesn't try to defend his misstep and goes right into correcting his behavior. The introduction of choices was the best start, but you slowly start saying no to events and choices and Vil couldn't be more delighted.

Idia

Lowkey, I'm not sure if he'd notice in any capacity until you told him point-blank. Idia is the one of the boys who sticks mostly to himself and he'd avoid you if he saw you constantly being hounded by other students.

But, if you managed to get close enough to him, he'd question why you always freeze up when your bullies call you? Why running isn't an option you take? And then you'd tell him about where you came from and how running never ended well for you or the other slaves...

He's not one I think would actively try to curb your behaviors but it would effect his own. Now when he sees you being bullied there's a high chance he'll use what power he has a housewarden to get them to leave. When he's sneaking around, he'll catch your eye and give the mental offer to come hide out in his room with him. He becomes a legit safe space for you to just breath since no one but Ortho really enters his room.

He's had to stop you multiple times from cleaning his room. Yes, it's a mess. No, you don't have to thank him by cleaning. Yes, he's aware you can also keep his stuff organized for him while you clean. You don't have to clean, you aren't his maid. (He is terrified he will ruin your friendship the second you find anything embarrassing under his piles of junk. Like a body pillow, or a 18+ comic, or a stray love note he wrote you-)

Malleus

Adorable you think the bonds of slavery from an unknown world matter to him. Malleus is...a prince, a crown prince at that. I don't think he has 'slaves' but with servants of royalty, I'm never really sure. But anyhow, this boy hasn't been told no enough in his life and it shows.

So when you try to back away from the friendship a bit under the fact of you being a slave and not...worthy of his princely company. He just decides you aren't a slave anymore. Just wills and speaks it into existence. There, it's fixed. You can continue being his beloved child of man, now come. He has a new gargoyle he wants to show you.

Fae to me have favorites, and they love to keep an eye on them. So god help some poor schmuck who tries to bully you into doing their work after Malleus has decided you don't do that anymore... You start saying No and leaving the situation with much more effectiveness because the other choice is Malleus making some poor student drop out for fear of their life.

Malleus canonically ignores the autonomy of others for his own gain. So it would be a really weird balance of him simply stating that you are your own being capable of choice and that your old-world status as a slave doesn't matter here. But with that new free status, you are also his best friend, who will come on night walks with him, talk with him, and make friendship bracelets.

[systlin]

You know I have repeatedly seen people in the forums of the hellpits of the Interwebs I have crawled through on this cursed quest for knowledge be like 'oh yeah the early ones are just planetary swords and sorcery fantasy they aren't that bad for the first five books'.

This, my friends, is a filthy fuckass lie.

Book THREE is this

And everything in this book is batshit

Go ahead if you don't believe me.

To summarize a lot of shit more succinctly;

Tarl ends up on Gor again for Reasons. He in the last book found that his city of Ko Ro Ba was burnt to the ground by the Flame Death for Reasons, and swore revenge upon the Priest Kings.

(No, it is never answered what the Priest Kings are priests OF. Themselves, I assume?)

So, he goes to the Sardar, where they're supposed to live. The Sardar is a mountain range that is entirely walled off with a log palisade. I will let y'all do the mental math on how absolutely bugfuck wild it would be to build a wall around an entire mountain range. He's told a few times that anyone who goes into the mountains dies, but goes anyway because He's A Speshul Boy.

He of course finds the door to the underground high tech ant nest that the Priest Kings call the Nest. It is guarded by two saber toothed tigers on chains. I would think giant two million year old ant wasp praying mantids could get a better security system but I guess not. He does some Manly Posturing but is about to get mauled to death when, unfortunately, a dude lets him in.

The dude who is like the butler or secretary or whatever for the Priest Kings is named Parp.

Fucking

Parp

Anyway Tarl is put in a room with a hot lady named Vika who is a slave. She insists she hates him because Norm seems to think that showing scorn and hatred is how women flirt (this is a common thread through all his books.) Tarl finds her disagreeable because she doesn't beg to suck his dick immediately. If I were her I would have killed him with a straight razor but whatever.

So THEN there's like fifty pages of bullshit about slavery and how it's totally great for women and they love it it makes their hot love oils just GUSH, and yes I am sorry for writing that sentence. Eventually Tarl escapes the little room and sees an actual Priest King, and goes, predictably, 'what the hell is this thing'

The Priest King introduces itself as Misk. Misk says that Priest Kings have no genders save for the Queen and her mate, but Tarl insists on calling the genderless alien bug 'him' through the whole book. Now, you will remember that Tarl came to this place in the first fucking place because he wanted to kill the Priest Kings for destroying his city, which is a fine motivation!

It goes out the window here. Misk tells Tarl that Tarl is a Good Special Friend Boy and Tarl is immediately like we are friends and I would die for you. Misk immediately shows friendship by putting Tarl in a Contraption that gives him a forced medical examination and cleaning and laxative. This is not the last time this happens to Tarl and you can really map out some of Norm's kinks by following such threads.

SO IT TURNS OUT that the Priest Kings and MISK SPECIFICALLY leveled Tarl's city to get his attention so that Misk could send Tarl on a quest for the last queen egg of the Priest Kings. Because, see, the old mother is, well, old. She isn't laying eggs any longer, and the priest kings are all, minimum, thousands of years old. Misk is two million years old. Process that for a sec.

Okay.

Anyway there has been an ongoing power struggle in the nest because a lot of the Priest Kings don't want to give up power, and power is determined by birth order from the current Mother. So several Priest Kings have been killing queen eggs for several million years. Misk smuggled out the last one and now wants it back to hatch a new mother. You will know where it is if you read my hatefic.

Leave aside the fact that there is no fucking way that egg is still viable. This is apparently A Threat, so Sarm...the main egg killing PK...and Misk now engage in a power struggle, each trying to use Tarl to kill the other. There is a scene involving gollums with suction cup feet milking the priest kings that is the weirdest fucking thing I've ever read, and I've read some weird shit.

Oh. Also there is a golden beetle that eats PK's. It exudes a pheremone that makes them nut so far as I can tell? And then it slurps their innards out like a spider. It also reproduces in the most horrible way. If you've read Bloodchild by Octavia Butler you know what I mean. It's sacred to the Priest Kings for some fucking reason. They offer Vika to it for this purpose, but Tarl saves her and now she loves him.

Also the PK's have thousands of slaves in the nest. They shave them utterly bare, make them wear plastic, and make them shower six times a day. Any who misbehave are sent to the Dissection Room. They theoretically all eat a kind of bland white fungus and vitamin pellets but I call horseshit. Slave Pellets Are People, folks.

SO. There's a big war in the Nest over who gets to be in charge. Norm manages to make a laser gun battle over a glowing probably nuclear reactor boring. They almost explode the planet but don't, and Misk's side eventually wins. Tarl sets out to retrieve the last queen egg for Misk, having utterly forgotten his fury at his actual whole city being leveled, with presumably his Free Companion and his father among the dead. But well, Misk gave him headpats and a literal gerbil cage to live in, so I guess that's enough for him.

The book ends there. It's. It's absolute fucking batshittery, every word of it. And I'm cutting out all the nonsense about slavery and how Men Are Natural Masters and women are Natural Slaves and a solid 50% of the more mundane but still absolutely wild shit here.

THIS IS BOOK THREE. THIS STILL HAD AN EDITOR

you know, as you are the resident Tumblr expert on the gor books, I for one would love it if you were to write a summary/essay/rant for some of the books so the rest of us can know what's going on without actually having to read it. I'm morbidly curious but not subjecting myself to that. I'm certain that you would to a wonderful entirely objective not at all opinionated job. So if you ever feel like bashing the books publicly some more, please do

oh, god

I should actually. I should. But god damn there's so many and every one of them has new heinous shit

For now, I'll drop this knowledge; in the most recent, published only last year, the protag is Agnes, an astrophysicist working at a small radio observatory.

This is important because she notes some weird shit in the orbit of Jupiter. As in, radio signals that are clearly of intelligent origin. She does the thing you would do, which is check to see if there are any probes there. There are not.

So she pokes her nose in further, and finds the Kurii planetoid ships. Thinking 'this can't be right' she sends. She sends the data. She sends the data to fucking. Colleagues to verify it.

Colleagues working at the VLA with SETI

The Kurii then 'vanish' her to gor, where the regular 'oh I love being a slave actually' shit plays out. She's told that this will be shut down on earth by one (1) senior scientist in Kurii pay saying it's nonsense no shut up don't look there again.

Me; dude. DUDE. IF SHE SENT THAT DATA TO SETI THEY ARE COUNTING HULL RIVETS ON THOSE THINGS WITH THE VLA AND EVERY ASTROPHYCISIST ON THE PLANET KNOWS NOW. IT'S GAME OVER BRO. CAT OUT OF BAG AND YOU WROTE IT YOURSELF.

THE ASTROPHYSICISTS SMELL UNLIMITED GRANT FUNDING DUDE. THEY ARE SEEING THEIR NAME IN TEXTBOOKS. IT'S OVER MAN.

EARTH IS GONNA BE LANDING SHIPS WITHIN A YEAR, DUDE

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request headcanons for Leviathan, Satan, Beleth, Asmodeus, Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Mammon reacting to shy gn s/o asking him if you can kiss him on the lips in private please?

Asking WHB demons to kiss them in private

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Satan will laugh at first

"Private? Why? We can kiss right here in front of everyone!"

But if you keep insisting, he will let you drag him into a nearby back alley

Don't expect it to end only with a kiss though

There will be at least some hand wandering until you stop them

And once you get back to the castle, Satan will expect to continue where you two left off

       ༺☆༻

No problem for Mammon at all

If his s/o wants a kiss in private, they'll get it

In a flash he summons his golden hands that create a blocade around you, so the two of you are securely alone

Similarly to Satan however, expect his hands to wander to his favorite part of you

       ༺☆༻

In Leviathan's case, I'd say that this is a usual setting for the two of you anyway

Unless you emphasise the 'privacy' a bit more to drive the point across even to those nobles that are around, but invisible

Also, I think you'd have more success getting a kiss from Levi by telling him that you're going to kiss him rather than asking him

It's playing into his forced-submission kink and by asking him, he has the choice to refuse

So I'd recommend not asking, but straight up telling him that you're going toegther somewhere more private

       ༺☆༻

"Ah! I thought you'd never ask! I would love to whisk you away from everyone to have you only to myself! ...and maybe some of my clones!" he grins

He did understand what you meant, but it's much more fun to mess with you just to see your reaction

He'll even grab your wrist to softly tug you along, much to anyone elses, who might be around, dismay

But in reality, he is granting you your wish by simply leading you to a place with only the two of you

He might of might not summon some clones that will ask for a kiss as well

       ༺☆༻

Beleth might be busy, but never for you

So when you ask him, he'll pause for a second and think about where is the biggest chance to not be interrupted by anyone

Then he simply chuckles and picks you up like it's nothing and starts walking

Plus he's super warm so you can just lean into his chest and enjoy

(I just imagined Beleth kabedon-ing me and oof, I might go and think about it for a while :D)

       ༺☆༻

Honestly... I don't think Asmo would

And if he did say yes, it wouldn't be as private as you thought

He's a show-off to say the least

And if you're uncomfortable doing stuff out in the public, he will still try to argue exposure therapy to you

So yes, if you ask him if you two are alone, he'll nod that you are

But in reality there's a good part of Abaddon demons behind some curtain, wishing they were in your place

       ༺☆༻

Just like with Levi, I imagine you and Lucifer being alone by default

Most of his nobles are always too busy tending to patients and Jjok...

Jjok is probably struggling for his life somewhere (poor baby U.U)

But maybe you feel too exposed in the large greenhouse...

(That's so valid tbh)

Lucifer has no problem taking it somewhere else just for your comfort

He'll even keep it respectful and not try to push it any further

[nanamisgirly]

PLEASE, STAY

↪ ( ˶ a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you. for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. and then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't. because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.˵ )

pairing ᥫ᭡。richman!Gojo x bodyguard reader. they had a sort of situation ship before.

content ᥫ᭡。fem!reader, no curses au, they're both around 30, smut at the very end, very provocative gojo (?), mean reader ig, a lot of cursing, angst, oral sex, unprotected p in v sex, mention of blood, fights scenes, broken bones, pet name (mostly sweetheart and once baby), sexual tension, slow burn, explicit language, explicit content, power dynamics, military mention (mild ptsd), gun mentions

word count ���᭡。13k

notes ᥫ᭡。this is for my 200 followers 🥹 thank you for all the reblogs they are very very much appreciated!! I didn't know where I was going with this fic lmao, I just hope that some of you will enjoy reading it! I'm always open to feed back :))) be mindful this is my first long (?) fic, I threw some stuff together and hoped for the best oops

you were assigned to gojo saturo. of all the men you could possibly protect, it had to be him— you're ex-friend with benefits. 

you sat across from him at a table that probably cost more than your entire apartement, fingers twitching under the weight of irritation. the upscale place was dimly lit, the kind meant for quiet luxury. 

“you both understood?” your superior asked, sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. Gojo grinned, the same playful smirk on his annoyingly handsome face. the past nine years had only done him favors, he'd grown taller— making him tall like a damn tower— his features sharper, his frame broader. 'maybe he'd been training' you thought. ‘or it’s just life sculpting him into something even more irritatingly perfect.'

you left him when things started to be serious. back then, Gojo had some difficulties to understand he was just a sex friend. but it didn't really matter, you had to leave for the military anyway.

for a long time, you didn't want to process feelings, attachments— that was just bullshit. and now, nine years later, somehow, you were right back where you started.

you retired from the military after sustaining severe injuries. but you still craved the thrill— fights, missions, the adrenaline rush. it kept you on track. like drugs, you were addicted. so you became a sort of bodyguard. over the years, you had protected royals, rich heirs, celebrities— anyone with a target on their back. it owned you the reputation as being the best in your field. you were ruthless, cold-blooded, killing without hesitation if needed. 

your face remained stoic, your gaze locked onto gojo as he held yours. “yeah, got it. babysit the rich brat until the gala's over.” you mocked, leaning back against the chair. 

satoru chuckled, he couldn't help but tease you “oh, come on now. you make it sound so boring” tilting his head like a cat toying with its prey. “i thought you'd be happy to spend some time with an old friend”

you scoffed. “friend is a strong word, Gojo” that response only fueled his mischief. “you're right” he crosses his arms as he continues “we were never just friends” insufferable brat. “i'm here to do my job. nothing more” you said without a hint of emotion in your tone, fixing him with a glare that should've shut him up.

it didn't.

his piercing blue eyes gleamed with amusement “of course, sweetie," he purred, resting his elbows on the table, leaning in “just admit you missed seeing my beautiful face.”

you exhaled sharply, already exhausted 'maybe a small knife pressed against his throat wouldn't hurt— just a little warning.'

“what i miss, is protecting some quiet person who knows their limits and let me do my damn job in peace. this, is what i truly miss”. Gojo hummed, shamelessly dragging his gaze over you “personally, i missed that sharp tongue of yours.”

“alright, enough,” your superior cut in, his tone serious— a clear warning that he had no patience for the ridiculous back-and-forth between you two. “stay close at all times. there are threats left and right against him leading up to the gala.” he turned his attention to gojo “you don't act up, and you listen to whatever she tells you.” the rich man was clearly enjoying himself “don't worry, i love when she bosses me around” he winked at you before standing up and leaving the restaurant. like this was all a game to him.

your superior exhaled heavily, already bracing for the headache to come. then, he dropped the next bomb. “you need to stay at his place.”

you try your best to keep a straight face. “what?” 

“gojo is already informed. you're moving in tonight.” and with that, he left the table, leaving you seething.

your fist met with the surface with a dull thud. “damn it,” you muttered, frustration curling hot in your chest.

this is going to be a long, long week.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you rode to gojo's house, spending the time to talk yourself down. you had spent years perfecting your composure. you had survived war zones, assassinations, and high-profile threats. there was no reason for gojo fucking satoru to get under your skin.

and yet.

his house— no, his mansion— was perched high above the city, a fortress of sleek glass and security. the driveway alone was bigger than some of the safe houses you'd stayed in.

when you pulled up to his gates, the night was well-advanced, the cold biting at your cheeks as you lifted up your helmet. you met some guards at the entrance stating that gojo was expecting you. of course, he was.

the second you stepped through the doors, the place smelled ridiculously expensive. the living room was massive, with a sunken seating area surrounding a glass-enclosed firepit. there are floor-to-celling windows stretched across the space, offering a panoramic view of the glittering cityscape below. a massive, curved staircase led to the second floor, the railings lined with soft, glowing, light strips, guiding the way up.

the place screamed luxury— unapologetically extravagant, but with taste. just like satoru gojo.

you sighed, rolling the tension from your shoulders as you tugged off your gloves. the ride had been long. your muscles ached. your motorbike uniform clung to you, slightly damp with sweat. all you wanted was a shower and some sleep.

“you're so sexy in that uniform” his voice came from above. you looked up to find him leaning against the railing, messy white hair, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms, collarbone peeking through his loose neckline of his shirt.

and that goddamn smirk.

“gojo,” you warned, voice firm. he ignored it entirely, blue eyes twinkling as they dragged over you with zero shame. “seriously, bending you over in it wouldn't be so bad.” your fingers twitched. satoru in all his splendor. 

“wouldn't be so bad if i curb-stomped you into the floor.” you respond. gojo restrained a laugh, eyes sparking with mirth. he fucking loved this— pushing your limits. “actually, i wouldn't mind that either” you grit your teeth at the comment. “just show me where my fucking room is." 

when you reached him, he let out a dramatic sigh, “not even a little peck before sleep, sweetheart?” you blankly stared at him “alright, no need to look at me with so much love” he ironically says as he turned around, leading you to your room.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

4am. the digital clock glowed dimly as you pounded your fists against the heavy bag. you slept only two hours— which, honestly was decent considering you never slept well. the military had drilled into the art of light, vigilant rest, training you to snap into action as the slightest disturbance. and staying here, with gojo just down the hall, only worsened that already unstable peace.

“fuck it” your fist connected with the training bag, a loud thud echoing through the empty gym. you did a home tour by your own after gojo dropped you to your bedroom— and to your relief, you found a fully equipped training room. exactly what you needed to burn off frustration time to time.

sweats dripped down your temple, muscles burning from exertion as you moved with precision and force, the heavy bag jerking with each impact. your t-shirt had been abandoned long ago—tossed to the side as the heat from training built up—leaving you in nothing but sports bra and low-slung sweatpants. 

“gojo, are you going to stay there for long?” you snapped as he stayed put in the doorway, thinking you hadn't noticed him those past fifteen minutes, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world. he grinned, unbothered “was testing if you could notice a threat even while distracted” you snorted “well, now that you oh-so-sweetly reassured yourself, could you fuck off?” your fist slammed onto the bag harder, sending it swinging violently.

you felt gojo's eyes on you, it almost burnt holes on your skin. his eyes darted at the sweat slipping on your back. “damn," his voice was low “i think i prefer you like this— hot, sweaty, breathless.” he insisted on the last word. your eyes flicked to his figure as he took slow steps forward. “i think i like you gone.” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head as if you disappointed him “why always so hostile? i could be way more helpful than that punching ball.”

you were too fucking exhausted for this, your next punch sent the bag flying so violently it nearly knocked over the weight rack. you caught it with one of your wrapped hand, fingers tightening around the worn leather. you exhaled sharply, preparing yourself to face gojo and his bullshit. “i swear satoru—” you stepped closer to him, closing the space between you. only to realize how stupidly tall he was up close. you weren't small but standing like this— with a solid eight inches between you— made you feel very tiny next to him.

“satoru," he repeats “it's been a while since you've said my name. say it again” he leaned in, eyes lazily tracing your lips, the small hairs at the back of your neck sticking to your skin, your full breasts pressed tight against your sports bra. a strong desire lingering in his eyes as he imagined licking every drop of your sweat. he tested your patience “you know,” he murmured “i really love this view.” 

and that was it, you had enough. in no time you grabbed him, hooked your arm, and flipped his ass over your shoulder— slamming him onto the floor. before he could react, you were on him, your thighs straddling his hips, your hand wrapped around his throat. gojo eyes widened in shock— he did not expect that. but the surprise was soon enough replaced by a slow curl of his lips.

“fuck,” he chocked out “that was hot, sweetheart.” you tightened your grip around his neck “gojo, you're a fucking perv.” you felt something hard pressing between your legs. “i'm just a man." he lifted his hand, acting innocent "you kept bouncing around that bag, how could i not get some ideas?”

the worst part of all those stuff is that you were turned on by all his teasing. your panties dampened any time he made a comment over the little talk you both had in those past ten hours.

“gojo, you're a total pathetic man,” you mutter rolling your hips down harder, closing your thighs firmly around him just to hurt a little more. his pupils blown wide and his lips part sightly— that fucking bastard was loving it. “y-yeah, pathetic” he chokes out “i- i'm a- a very p-pathetic m-man." your panties were so damn soaked by now as his length presses sinfully against your core. you refuse to acknowledge the feelings, you don't need it, you don't need him, you don't need to go back to him.

you release his throat with a final squeeze, eyes heavy, dragging your fingers down his heavy chest— feeling the hard ridges of muscle tense under your touch, before you push yourself up and off him. you see his hips twitching up, as if he was chasing the missing heat of your pussy. gojo let out a broken— needy whimper, as you adjust your waistband and roll your shoulders back, trying to gather your thoughts. ignoring the aching pulse between your legs. 

your feet leading you to the door. you throw one last glance to gojo, you can see his erection straining against his pants from where you stand, aching to be taken care of— gojo's features twisting in desperation. “be ready at eight a.m. We've got recon to do.” and with that, you leave him there, fighting the urge to go back inside and kiss him senseless.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride to the venue is longer than necessary with gojo whom insisted on riding with you. you should have known better than accepting his demand. he can not keep his hand to himself.

at first, his hands rested innocently on your stomach, but as soon as you took off, he let them slide lower, palm resting on your inner thighs— fingers tracing circles way too close to your core. the vibrations of the bike only make it worse.

at the next red light, you snap your hand down, gripping his wrist. “keep your hands to yourself” you warn him “either way i'll have to cut them off” his chest rumbles with laughter against your back. “what if i don't want to?” you hear his teasing voice through the speaker of your helmet “you're never asking about what i want, sweetheart.” his hands squeezing you through your pants. “i think i'm gonna kick your ass off the bike. go to hell that damn mission” your jaw tightened, ‘why does he have to make everything so difficult’ 

the light turns green and you don't hesitate to accelerate like a damn crazy— earning some curses from gojo, his arms wrapping around you, his thighs locking firmly against yours. once he accommodate to the speed, he's laughing, slightly enjoying the way you speed down the street like you're trying to outrun the heat pooling between your legs.

you parked in front of the luxurious hotel, one of the most extravagant hotels in the city by the way. the gala will be held there, a beautiful place— a perfect representation of gojo's wealth and arrogance. “gorgeous place, huh?” he muses. “maybe we should get a room after the mission, to celebrate our teamwork.” you swing your leg off smoothly, ignoring him as you unbuckle your helmet.

when you step inside, multiple people are working on the preparations— setting up tables, adjusting lighting, and fussing over floral arrangements. you walk straight past them, heading toward the ballroom where the gala will take place. the room is massive— high ceilings with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, multiple balconies. it's beautiful, but a logistical nightmare for security. too many places to hide, too many potential vantage points for a sniper.

gojo lets out a low whistle, walking a step behind, hands in his pockets— acting like a damn tourist instead of a man with an actual bounty on his head. you walk past the ballroom, letting him doing whatever he is. you head toward the back corridors, checking the service entrances, mapping out the security offices. The staff is too busy setting up to pay you much attention— except for the occasional glance at gojo, probably wondering if he's some high-profile guest.

then something shifts. a group of security personnel moves in, just a little too fast. too coordinated. you recognize the stance immediately— trained, disciplined. not just the hotel staff. your instincts scream at you, your feet move before your mind fully catches up— you step toward gojo to warn him…and that's when you see it. a figure in the hallway, gun raised. aimed directly at gojo's head.

your body moves before your brain processes. you twist on your heel, muscles coiled, and throw your knife. it slices through the air, and the second it buries itself deep in the shooter's forearm, he lets out a sharp yell, his aim faltering. it's all you need. you charge.

your combat boots barely make a sound as you sprint toward the shooter. you're on him before he even recovers, grabbing his wrist and twisting it outward— hard. 

POP. he screams, his shoulder socket dislocating from the brutal angle, the gun slipping from his fingers. your knee flies up, slamming into his sternum. you feel his ribs shift under the impact, his breath leaving him in choked gasp before you shove him aside like trash.

“holy shit—” gojo starts, but you don't hear the rest as you see three more attackers already closing in. one of them lunges with a knife— fast, trained. but so are you. you shift sideways at the last second, grabbing his wrist mid-swipe. then in a brutal motion, you twist. his own blade sinks into his thigh. a strangled gurgle leaves his lips as he stumbles back, collapsing to his knees, clutching the handle buried in his leg.

suddenly you feel arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you from the floor. you snap your head back, cracking the nose of your opponment with the force of a fucking hammer. blood sprays onto your shoulder and the wall. your fast to slam your elbow into his throat, his air supply instantly cut off, his body jerking as he crumples to the floor.

the last guy is bigger, stronger— seems to be military trained from the way he moves. but that doesn't matter, you've had to deal with fiercer men before. when he's close enough, you drop low— leg swings out in a sweeping arc. CRACK.

his legs are ripped out from under him. he fall onto his back, gasping for air. you don't let him breathe, your fist driving down, once.

twice, three times.

the last punch bursts his lip open, blood dripping down his chin. your fingers wrap around his throat. you lean in close, sweat dripping down your temple, eyes heavy of the need to kill. “you fucked with the wrong person.” you hear a broken noise coming from his lung. you tighten your grip.

and then— clapping. 

you whip around, chest heaving. and there stands gojo, grinning like the devil himself “well, well, well.” he whistles, stepping over the bodies of the men you just demolished. “i gotta admit, that was fucking sexy” your brain is still catching up, heart pulsing with adrenaline “what the hell is wrong with you?” you snap. “we almost got fucking assassinated.”

his grin deepens. “sweetheart…” he crouches down, tilting his head. “that wasn't an assassination.”

you freeze. you hope it's not what you think it is.

he gestures lazily at the unconscious men. “that was a test.” he lifts his shoulders, unbothered. “wanted to be sur you still got it” he winks, amused.

your blood runs hot. “a test?” gojo shrugs, way too casual for someone who just watched you beat the absolute shit out of four men. his gaze drags over you— knuckles bloodied, chest rising and falling hard— and his smirk only widens.

you don't think much as you launch at him, fury taking over— fully prepared to knock that smug grin off his face for good. but this time, he's ready. he catches your wrist mid-swing. “no, no,” he purrs, his grip tightening just enough to make you aware of his strength. “play nice.” your free hand grabs the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer “fuck you and your stupid games," you spit "i can't wait for this week to end.” you see red. 

gojo's amused eyes faded into something darker. his eyes once playful, turn sharp, dangerous. “and what?" his voice is low, cold— jaw clenched so tightly it might break. "leave like you did nine years ago?” his face inches closer, his warm breath hitting your skin. “leaving without a second look?” your stomach twists. he's standing too close— looking at you like he wants to rip you apart.

your chest rises and falls sharply. your body is still burning from the fight, but this— this is worse. you rip your wrist from his grasp, shoving him hard enough that he stumbles back a step. and he laughs. an empty laugh, far from his usual cocky, full-bodied laugh. “that's all you ever fucking do, huh?” his voice is sharp. “run.” you flinch, ever so sightly. but he sees it. and he seems satisfied ‘i finally got a reaction out of her.’ 

"i didn't have a choice". you force the words out, voice controlled. gojo's expression darkens. “bullshit, you always had a choice.” he steps forward, and this time, you don't move back. if he punched you, it will be well-deserved. you wouldn't dodge it. his fist on your face would hurt less than the words coming out of his mouth. 

“you just didn't choose me.” your heart stops, feeling something inside you cracks. but you don't want him to see it. so, as much as you hate what you're about to say, you steel yourself and let it out “what, you think i owed you something?” the words taste bitter, burning your tongue even as they leave your mouth.

gojo's lips parts, but nothing comes out at first. then quietly— too fucking quietly “no.” his voice is ragged, raw. “but i thought you cared.” you feel it like a punch to the gut. gojo never says things like this. he surely is all teasing remarks and well-placed avoidance but never is he a looking like you ruined him. like you destroyed a part no one could ever rebuild— except… you.

a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you.

for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. but then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't.

because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride back home is fine. if fine meant quiet, tense, and filled with too much unsaid shit hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. then yeah, it is fine.

gojo didn't pull his usual antics— no wandering hands, no teasing remarks. just silence. his hands stay firmly on his own thighs, gripping the edges of the seat. and somehow that irritates you even more. 

you can feel the weight of his gaze the entire ride back, burning into the back of your head like a brand. he doesn't speak, but his presence is suffocating.

by the time you pull up to his estate, he gets off the bike before you can even kill the engine. his movements are sharp, jaw clenched, shoulders tense. for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you, like he's debating something. you stare back, chest rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline still buzzing through your veins.

but then, with a low scoff, he turns on his heels, and heads inside without a word. you don't follow. not immediately. taking a moment for yourself. trying to gather back your composure. 

you stay seated on your bike, hands tightening around the handlebars, knuckles white. heart pounding like a war drum against your ribs. the wind bites at your skin, but it's nothing compared to the cold settling in your chest.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the next day is spent preparing for the gala. you go over the blueprints of the venue again, double-checking entrance and exist, every potential blind spot. 

the chaos from yesterday has been cleaned up— not a single trace of the fight remains. the bloodied bodies have been taken care of, the shattered glass replaced with pristine tables, the blood smeared across the walls scrubbed away as if it never existed. as if it was nothing more than a fever dream.

you analyze the guest list, looking for possible threats. you argue with gojo about security placements, mostly because he doesn't take anything seriously. “take a look at this. tell me if you recognize anyone shady.” the tall man barely glances at the screen before muttering, “they're all shady.” you roll your eyes "that's not helpful." he shrugs, stepping toward the grand windows. “i don't really care.” that pisses you off. “gojo, could you at least pretend to care?” you put a hand on your hips, patience thinning. 

he exhales through his nose, barely sparing you glance over his shoulder. and then, with a calmness that cuts deeper than yelling ever could, he says, “you're the one who didn't care, remember?” and that shuts you up. 

he doesn't wait for your response, doesn't push, doesn't linger. just clasps his hands behind his back, taking a slow tour of the ballroom, his gaze dragging over the chandeliers, the polished floors, the extravagant decor— all while completely ignoring you.

the gala is tomorrow. 

and you don't know if you're ready.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

morning comes too soon. you barely slept, torn between the looming mission ahead and the cold, unbearable silence that had settled between you and gojo. since that night at the hotel, it had been nothing but tension— thick, suffocating, unspoken. a battlefield of sidelong glances, clipped conversations, and empty spaces where words should have been. especially your words. words of regrets.

and now, as you sit stiffly across from gojo on his sleek leather couch, arms crossed so tightly your nails bite into your skin, it's clear nothing has changed. he doesn't look at you. he hasn't since that night. since those words left his mouth, cutting deeper than any blade you took.

your superior clears his throat, dragging you back to the present. his voice clipped, all business. “you'll be attending as a couple.” the words slam into you like a wrecking ball.“you're kidding” you say flatly, glaring at your superior. “no,” he says simply. and you hear gojo letting out a laugh. the sound sends cold down your spine. 

“it's the best cover. gojo is a known public figure, and he's expected to bring someone. you, on the other hand, aren't on anyone's radar. it's the perfect excuse to keep you close and avoid suspicion.” you shake your head. “there has to be another way.” you bite the inside of your cheek, gripping your own arms as if that'll keep you from exploding. this is a fucking disaster. “there isn't.”

fucking hell.

how are you supposed to play lovers when everything between you is broken, shattered, and stitched back together with nothing but avoidance? you can feel gojo's eye on you, but you refuse to meet them. you already know what he's thinking. that you well-deserved that. that you were the one who ran away from him nine years ago, without any explanations.

your jaw locks as you finally risk a glance at him. he's watching you, studying you. blue glacial eyes pinning you in place. then slowly, he tilts his head. lips curling into a grin. “well,” his voice low, with something dark. “this should be fun.”

the moment your superior is done talking, you push yourself off the couch and stride toward your room, your pulse hammering too fast. it's too much.

the air is still charged, like static before a storm. even more now that you know you're going as a couple. behind you, gojo doesn't say a word. he doesn't try to stop you either. of course, he doesn't. 

you try to convince yourself it's easier this way. easier to act like none of it matters. like the past isn't clinging to both of you with bloodied, desperate hands.

the second the door clicks shut behind you, you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. the tension in your shoulders lingers, pressing your forehead against the door. 'focus' you tell yourself. tonight is business, the mission comes first. it's not about him— not about your feelings.

you step into the bathroom, turning the shower knob. water rushed out, steam filling the space almost instantly. hot, scalding— exactly what you need. you peel off your clothes, letting them drop carelessly to the floor before stepping inside.

the first touch of water burns, but you don't move away. instead, you welcome it. let it wash over you, over your skin, over the lingering heat still trapped in your body from the way gojo looked at you earlier. your hands slide over your arms, down your sides, over the curves of your body, the pressure firm as if you could scrub away the past— him. 

the water runs through your hair, down your back, down your thighs, and still, you can't shake the way your body remembers him. the way it still reacts to the mere idea of him. it pisses you off. your fingers tighten into fists before you force yourself to exhale, resting your forehead against the cool tile. you stay like this for a while. letting the water scald you, hoping it can burn out the thing still curling inside your chest, still whispering his name in the back of your mind. 

by the time you finally step out, steam curls around the mirror, the bathroom thick with heat. you wrap yourself in a towel, sighing as you push the door open. as you step closer to the bed, you notice a box on your bed. black, sleek, expensive. your breath catches for a second, it's not hard to guess who left it. you approach it slowly, a wary sort of anticipation buzzing under your skin. 

on the box, a note. a small, folded piece of paper with gojo's handwriting.

‘’ sweetheart,  i can't let you ruin my reputation with those cheap dresses you own. i have an image to maintain, after all. a rich man can't have people thinking he's poor. wear this. — satoru ‘’

your breath stutters for a second. sweetheart. something in your chest tightens, flutters, pounds. you crush it, fight it. with steady hands, you set the note aside and lift the lid of the box— and you freeze. 

the dress inside is breathtaking. it's a shade of blue so deep, so striking— the same as his eyes. you swallow, fingertips ghosting over the fabric. it's impossibly smooth, slipping through your fingers like liquid, designed to mold to every curve, to hug your body like a second skin. a dress that demands attention. you take it out of the box and immediately notice the back. or rather, the lack of one. the fabric dips dangerously low. with a sort of thin white belt that wraps behind your neck, fastening at the nape before cascading down in a delicate, tantalizing line. tracing your vertebral column. a seductive dress, yet functional enough to fight in case.

you return your attention to the box. your eyes widen as you see a pair of underwear. a soft filthy shade of blue, slightly lighter than the dress delicate and teasing. the panties are sheer in all the wrong places, practically see-through, the thin straps barely qualifying as fabric. offering little to the imagination. there's subtle glittering embellishments, catching the light just enough to draw eye. 

just enough to drive a man insane. your throat runs dry. that fucking bastard.

you dig further into the box, only to find jewelry. a necklace so fine it barely feels real, elegant enough to steal attention. earrings that shimmer subtly, matching perfectly with the delicate bracelet nestled beside them.

everything about this is so intimate. you hate that your heart still reacts, that your fingers tremble slightly as you lift the necklace, as you let the fabric of the dress slip between your fingers. every single piece was selected with intent. this isn't just a gift, it's a statement.

gojo satoru is back at it again. back to his games. back to this push and pull. he's testing your limits once again. you need to show him, you need to keep your bold cold. mission. mission then next… gojo.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

8:17 p.m. you see as you finish getting ready. adrenaline rushing through your veins. your hands move on mechanism, fastening the holster around your thigh before slipping the small firearm into place, the slit of your dress perfectly concealing it. since gojo is the host, there won't be any security checks for you at the entrance.

you allow yourself one final breath, steadying your pulse as your hand move to the door handle. tonight, your job is to protect him. nothing more.

you push the door open, and nothing could have prepared you for what is waiting for you. in front of you stand an anxious gojo, fixing his suit jacket, smoothing the fabric before his fingers nervously reach up to adjust his tie.

your breath hitches. the tie he's fumbling with is the exact same shade as your dress— his signature blue, the color of his eyes, the color that haunts your dream more often than you'd like to admit. his scent hits your nose, flooding your senses. something fresh, subtly spiced. it messes with your head, makes it hard to focus. his hair a little bit messy, like he's been running his hands through it while waiting for who knows how long.

and when his eyes find yours, everything in you freezes.

gojo stays still. his usual teasing remark falter, no lazy smirk, no arrogance. just… silence as his gaze consumes you. it's like the weight of the last few days of distance disappears, and all that remains is the way the dress clings to your body. 

“i-” he starts. “that's…you- i mean,” he shakes his head, trying to gather his thoughts. he takes a slow step forward, his hand reaching out. you don't hesitate, taking it in yours. his fingers are warm against yours, his grip tight, like he's afraid to let go. to let you go. 

he gently turns you, his eyes trailing over the open expanse of your back. he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “what's happening, satoru?” you tease “you finally dare to look at me, after all the ignoring these pasts days?” you tilt your head back, lifting your chin to meet his eyes. even in your heels, you remain towered by him, his presence overwhelming. gojo's eyes betray something deep— pain, maybe regret. 

“sweetheart…” he murmurs, pulling you closer by the hand that holds yours. the sudden motion takes you by surprise, a gasp leaving your lips as your body crashes into his. “you have no idea what you do to me.” gojo growls softly. the heat of his body pressing against yours, makes you weak. you can't stop the way your breath hitches.

the word mission keeps echoing in your head. you shouldn't give in, not when he got so defensive, not when you still had walls built around you. “gojo,” you whispers as his eyes flickers to your lips. he leans in, his forehead touching yours, closing his eyes. “we need to figure it out.” he says simply. “give me a chance.” his hands grip your waist, molding your body to his. “tell me why you left, please.” his voice filled with a raw, aching honesty that make your heart drop.

your brain is racing at a thousand miles per hour, your pulse drumming in your ears. the connection between you two is palpable, undeniable. your hands go to the back of his head, tugging sightly his hair, making gojo groans. you breathe out his name, your lips just brushing against his “after the gala,” you murmur. “but let's go for now. we're running late.” you pull back but the heat remains. a pretty shade of pink creeps onto gojo's cheeks. the sight of it makes you smile. 

you both reach the bottom of the stairs, and before you can move toward the door, gojo's voice calls out, low and filled with something close to mischief. “wait.”

you stop in your tracks, turning to look at him, and that playful smirk makes its comeback. he lifts your hands, then loosens his grip just enough to intertwine his fingers with yours. his eyes fixed on your face, watching for your reaction. “it's better like this,” he says, his voice mix of teasing and seriousness. “if we're playing couple, let's do it right,” he adds. you shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “satoru, let's go now." he opens the door, the cold night air hitting your skin “i love when you call me saturo, sweetheart.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the streets blur past, neon lights casting fleeting glows over his sharp features as he drives through the city. Gojo insisted on being the one to drive, choosing one of his luxurious car— not without making a comment on how it'd be nearly impossible to ride your bike in that dress but he'd gladly let you ride him in that dress. 

the ride is quiet. not the comfortable kind, but the charged, suffocating kind. you can feel his eyes flicking toward you between red lights.

the hotel appears, tall and grand, its golden lights illuminating the massive entrance. unlike when you came checking security, the driveway is packed with luxury cars, men in tailored suits, women in gowns worth small fortunes. there're even photographers lining the barricades, flashes firing like relentless lighting. 

despite your superior's briefing, you still feel nervous. of course you have attented events like this before to protect your clients, but never were you the center of attention.

suddenly, dodging bullets in a batteflied seems far less stressful than whatever the hell this masquerade is. at least, the car windows are tinted, giving you some more minutes.

gojo feels you tense up as he stops in front of the entrance. he turns to you, bringing a hand to cup your face, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. “it's okay, sweetheart," his thumb traces soft, reassuring circles on your cheek. “i'm with you. focus on the job, okay?” then, with an easy smile, he steps out of the car.

the moment he does, you hear people calling his name, cameras clicking furiously. and gojo being gojo, steps out with that infuriating confidence, adjusting his cufflinks like he owns the damn place. pretty fucking bastard

gojo makes his way to your door before the valet even moves. he opens it himself, hand extended, waiting. and you can feel this is not only for the show. you let out a sharp exhales, taking his hand to get out of the car.

the moment your heels hit the ground, the flashes explode even brighter, voices pitching higher, demanding your attention. gojo's fingers intertwine with yours—firm, possessive—as he pulls you closer, leaning down just enough so only you can hear. “wanted to let you know,” his breath tickling your ear “knowing what's under this dress is no helpful to hide my boner in front of these photographers.” 

before you can react, he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your temple. then with the smooth ease of a man who knows exactly what he's doing, he lifts your hand to his lips and plants the softest kiss against you knuckles. “also, don't forget to smile.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

inside, the gala is exactly what you expected— crystal chandeliers spilling molten gold over the sea of designer-clad elites, laughter too polished to be real, and conversations laced with unspoken agendas. the air is thick with expensive perfume and quit power plays.

gojo moves through it effortlessly, magnetic as ever. he plays the perfect host, flashing easy grins and exchanging pleasantries with people you couldn't care less about. you, on the other hand, remain sharp, scanning the room, keeping your senses on high alert.

or at least, you try.

it's hard to stay focused when you're super-aware of gojo's warmth. his palm resting low on your back, fingers tracing lazy, absentminded circles against your spine. his lips graze your temple as he leans in, voice low with some meaningless observation, but his breath is too warm, too deliberate. a shiver runs down your body.

the hours stretch on, an endless cycle of fake smiles and calculated small talk. the weight of the night starts pressing against your ribs, exhaustion creeping in. you need a moment.

“i'm getting us drinks,” you murmur, pulling away from gojo's touch, ignoring the way your body immediately protests the loss of warmth.

“how thoughtful of my wife” he teases, lips curling into something wicked. you almost fall to the floor, headfirst. 

wife. the word comes too easily from his mouth, like it belongs there. you catch yourself liking it.

shaking off the heat starting to take over you, you weave through the crowd, reaching the refreshments table. your mind still lingers on gojo, your thoughts are full of him. you're convince you need him. you don't want to run anymore.

a shadow of a smile tugs at your lips. 

when you turn back— two glasses of champagne in your hand— gojo is gone.

your pulse stumbles. your breath quickens, eyes scanning every corner, every exit. nothing. where the hell is he? 

you shove the glasses onto the nearest table, ignoring the startled look of a waiter. your training urges you to stay calm, but panic claws at your throat. gojo isn't just your responsibility. he's—

focus.

you spot one of the security personnel near the ballroom's entrance, a stocky man with an earpiece and a sharp gaze. you stride toward him, voice low but urgent. “did you see gojo leave?” the man frowns slightly “he stepped out a few minutes ago. took the private elevator up.”

your stomach knots. “who was with him?”

“not sure. a few men. well-dressed.” fury spikes through you. 'and that didn't alarm you?' you could beat his ass off if it wasn't for gojo right now. where did they find those incompetent men.

spinning on your heel, you move fast, heart hammering. the gala's noise fades behind you as you push through the discreet hallway leading to the private elevators. the display shows it stopped on the roof.

your pulse spikes. you slam the button. nothing. locked.

“fuck” you mutter under your breath. you don't have time to wait. without hesitation, you head for the stairwell, heels be damned. you rip the gun from its hidden strap at your thigh and climb two steps at a time. the adrenaline burns away any exhaustion, pushing faster.

by the time you reach the the top, your breath is ragged. hand tight on your gun, you push the rooftop door open just enough to see—

and your blood turns to ice.

gojo stands near the edge, bathed in city lights, his white hair a stark contrast against the night. the wind howls between the buildings, the breeze fluttering his tie— the same shade of his eyes, the same shade of your dress.

his usual carefree stance betraying nothing, hands in his pocket like he's discussing business over whiskey rather than staring down the barrels of guns. 

four men surround him. they're dressed too well to be common thugs, but you know better—real danger rarely looks the part. one of them, a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar curving at the corner of his mouth, has his gun aimed directly at gojo's chest.

your grip tightens around your own gun.

and then gojo speaks. “i suggest you let me go,” he drawls, voice laced with amusement. “or my wife's going to rip you apart.” he smirks “also, we arranged we talk after the gala, to make things clear, i don't think she'd be very happy that you keep me for the night.”

the men exchange glances, unimpressed. scar-lips steps forward, a cruel smirk twisting his scar. “you're worth a lot, Satoru Gojo.” a ransom situation.

gojo pinches the bridge of his nose like they're giving him a headache. “look,” he starts, tilting his head slightly. “i don't know who sent you, but this is embarrassing. four of you? to handle me? if i were you, i'd start running before she gets pissed.”

they barely have a second to process his words before you make your move. you can't risk any longer. and gojo is doing perfectly at distracting them.

one breath. one shot. 

you step out. aim. fire

the bullet buries itself into the shoulder of the man nearest gojo. he stumbles back with a pained grunt—

and gojo moves.

he moves faster then the wind whipping through the rooftop. in the time it takes for scar-lips to turn toward you, gojo there. a sickening crack echoes through the rooftop as gojo drives his elbow into the wide man's jaw with enough force to send him staggering. without pause, he pivots, driving a brutal kick into another's ribs. the crack is sickening.

you react instinctively, ducking behind an industrial vent as one of the men pulls a gun in your direction. another shot rings out— gojo's this time. he moves like liquid shadow, disarming one of the attackers with terrifying efficiency. the man barely has time to process that he's slammed into the ground.

scar-lips, despite his disoriented state, reaches for his gun again.

gojo doesn't let him. he's on him in a blink, gripping his wrist with an almost lazy ease before twisting it violently in the wrong direction. the man screams, his gun clattering to the floor. gojo doesn't let go. instead, he leans in, voice sickeningly sweet. “told you she'd be mad.”

you freeze. you've seen trained fighters. you are one. but this? this is something else. the speed, the precision, the sheer control— it's unsettling. suspicious. 

the last man standing tries to flee, you take aim and fire a warning shot near his feet. he freezes, hands trembling in surrender.

the rooftop falls into silence, only the labored groans of the fallen men breaking the stillness. the adrenaline still surges through your veins as you lower your gun, stepping closer to gojo, who brushes nonexistent dust off his sleeve like he didn't juts annihilate four men in less than two minutes.

“you good?” he asks, eyes flickering over you, concern hidden beneath his usual playful tone. “i should be asking you that.” 

“what? you think a couple of suits can take me down?” he winks, but there's something unreadable in his eyes. something he doesn't want you to see. you don't press. at least, not now.

instead, you step forward, pressing your heel into scar-lips' injured arm. he yelps “so, who sent you?” scar-lips stay still, unwilling to say anything.

the other men groan on the ground, the sting of their broken bones keeping them from trying anything stupid. gojo sighs as if he's bored. as if this whole thing is an inconvenience rather than a threat to his life. he reaches into his jacket, pulling out his phone. 

“you know,” he hums, tapping the screen with a lazy smirk “i could call someone. but they wouldn't be as nice as she is.” he gestures at you with a tilt of his head, his tone light, but his eyes? glacial.

scar-lips doesn't flinch. you press down harder on his arm. “fuck! alright, alright!” gojo grins like you just made his night. 

“contract” he grits out. “someone put a price on your head. it's big. too big to ignore.” gojo clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “that's vague. who?” scar-lips looks like he's debating wether answering is worth the consequences. “not local”

“international” you press. he nods, slowly. “someone wants you dead, gojo. badly. all we got was a time and place.” his gaze flicks up to you, sharp despite pain. "and instructions to take you too".

the air grows thick. “me?” the man on the floor exhales “whoever hired us knew you'd be with him. they want you alive.” something cold settles in your stomach. gojo, however, laughs. it's quiet, then louder, echoing against the rooftop.

scar-lips looks at him like he's lost his damn mind. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” gojo wipes at the corner of his eyes like he actually found that funny. “man, you guys must be new do you know how many times someone's tried to put me in a body bag?” he leans in closer, voice dripping lower. “and not one of them ever succeeded.” gojo nods toward you, lips quirking. “someone wants her alive? buddy, you should be more scared of that than anything else.” 

you glance down, they want you alive. that means whoever put out this hit isn't just after gojo— they're after something he has. the implications make your blood runs cold. but you don't have time to dwell on it.

one of the men on the ground— one you thought was barely conscious— lunges.

it happens fast. too fast.

a blade glints under the rooftop lights, aiming straight for gojo's ribs.

your gun fires before you think. the gunshot rings out, echoing accross the night.

the man crumples.

scra-lips yells, trying to scrambles back, but gojo's hand shoot out, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him up. “i'd be annoyed if this wasn't so damn prediactable.” his voice has lost its amusement. it's cold now. deadly. “you made a big mistake touching what's mine.” gojo's fingers tighten. for a second, you think he'll kill him.

but instead, gojo sighs—a sound full of tiredness— and his grip loosens. “i'd love to drag this out, but we have a gala to return to,” he says, and with that, he lets go. the man collapses to the ground, coughing violently.

gojo steps over him like he's nothing more than a discarded piece of trash. he reaches for your hand, gently pulling you away. “someone's coming to pick you up.” he adds, his tone far too casual for what just happened “be grateful. i called someone to take care of you, buddies. i only do that to my special guests.” 

he slams the rooftop door shut behind them with a sense of finality, cutting off the chaos that lingers in the air.

as you make your way down the stairs, you abruptly stop, questions swirling in your mind. “what's wrong?” gojo asks. you meet his gaze, searching his eyes, trying to figure out what he's hiding from you. he steps closer "you okay?” you should nod. should brush it off like you always do.

but you don't answer, and you feel the weight of silence settles between you. it's suffocating, you don't know how to break it. so you shake your head. you want to ask him why he hired you. why he needs you when he could've handled everything alone. you want to know if there's more to this—more to you—than just being his bodyguard. the questions burns at the back of your throat, but you swallow it down, afraid of what the answer might be.

gojo's hand pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, his touch gentle—like always when he touches you—making you gasp. his palm cups your cheeks. “hey.” his eyes are full of concern, worried. his tumb brushes over your cheek, a fleeting touch, as if he's trying to ground you. you're not sure if it's for your sake or his. 

“you're acting weird,” he murmurs, tilting his head. your throat tightens. “and you're acting like this is normal.” a short laugh escapes him, not a single hint of humor in it. his grip on your face loosens, but he doesn't pull away. “what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to tell me why,” the words come out quieter than you intended, but no less desperate. “why hire someone to protect you?” something flickers in his gaze, quick enough that you almost miss it. his fingers twitch against your skin. “you really think i need a bodyguard?” the way he says it sounds wrong—too light, too easy. 

“exactly. you don't." your voice is unwavering now, the certainty of it strengthening you. “not after i saw what you did tonight. the way you fought— it was effortless. you're better than any soldier i've ever seen.” you hesitate, the memory clicking into place. ”better than me.” and now that you think about it, you remember your punch he blocked that night, back at the gala preparations. the sheer force he used. you should have realized then.

gojo is quiet for a moment. then, finally, he sighs, letting his hand drop from your face. the loss of his warmth makes your chest ache. “i thought it'd be obvious by now,” he mutters, looking away.

it isn't. 

it's not obvious at all. and the fact that he won't just say it outright makes your frustration curl tight in your chest. 

you take a step back, shaking your head. “well, as you can see… it's not.” you cross your arms, the hurt leaking into your voice. gojo's head snaps back toward you, eyes narrowing. “you overthink too much.” you scoff, anger bubbling up despite your exhaustion. “then give me answers. if you did, i wouldn't have to.”

his jaw clenches, and for a second, you think he's going to throw out some flippant remark, something to brush this all under the rug like he always does. 

but then— 

he takes a step forward.

and another.

until there's barely any space left between you.

“maybe i don't want you to know,” he says, voice low, almost quiet to hear. the words send a sharp pang through you. he's never been this blunt before— not like this. “why?” you whisper, almost afraid to ask, but you need to go through this. together. “once you know, you won't look at me the same.”

your heart clenches at the quiet honesty in his voice.

“satoru," you murmur, refusing to back down, “you dressed me tonight. you brought me here as your date. you even called me your wife.” your voice shakes, but you keep going. “and i was scared to lose you tonight.” the words slip out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered, the weight of them hitting the space between you with unbearable force. 

gojo stills. his breath is uneven, and his eyes—those brilliant blue eyes—widen just slightly. you close your own, exhaling shakily before continuing.

“i ran once. nine years ago.” your voice is barely a whisper now. “i was young. i was afraid. and it was a mistake.” his entire body tenses. “Satoru,” you open your eyes, meeting his. “i want you. all of you. and surprisingly, i'm willing to stay. to stand next to you. to kill for you if that's what it takes to keep you safe.” you pause, your voice thick with emotion. “i'm not afraid of threats. i don't want to run anymore.”

gojo looks wrecked. completely and utterly undone.

you step closer, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid, unsteady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “nothing you could ever say will change the way i see you.” your voice is firm “nothing.”

he swallows hard, his hands twitching at his sides like he doesn't know whether to pull you in or push you away— to protect you from people that would want to hurt you, only to hurt him.

but then— he breaks. 

his arms wrap around you, crushing you to him, his grip almost desperate. his forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. and for the first time, gojo satoru—the untouchable, unshakable man— trembles.

“making me go through all that," he says against your hair, "being irrefutable with me and letting me beat the hell out of four men—" his fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes like he's terrified you'll disappear. “it took you all that to finally tell me what's on your heart?”

you let out a watery laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as tightly “i'm sorry.” he lets out a shaky breath, his lips brushing your temple. “stay,” it's not a command, not a plea— just a confession. you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth, into the way he holds you like he's never wanted anything more. “i'm not going anywhere.”

and just like that, nothing else matters.

the gala, the stares, the whispers— none of it exists as you slip out through the back entrance, hands locked together, ignoring the world you're leaving behind.

gojo doesn't let go.

not even when he open the car door for you, not even when he slides into the driver's seat. his hand stays on your thigh, fingers warm and steady, tracing idle patterns against your skin. every red light is an excuse— an excuse to lift your hand to his lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses on your knuckles, the pads of your fingers, the inside of you wrist.

you shiver, watching him through lidded eyes. “you're being soft.” gojo hums, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. “you love it, don't you?” and you don't deny it.

the drive is quiet, heavy with something unspoken. when he pulls up in front of his house, fingers still tracing slow, burning circles on you thigh, the weight of earlier comes crashing back. you shift in your seat, eyes flicking toward him. 

“what were you going to say earlier?” his hand pauses for just a second— just long enough for you to notice. then, instead of answering, he leans in, his breath hitting your jaw as his lips ghost over your skin. “you really want to talk about that right now?”

the air is charged, thick with frustration and need. his lips press against the corner of your mouth— featherlight, teasing, but you can feel the restraint in the way his fingers grip your thigh. you tilt your head, giving him more access as a sigh leave your lips. “i need to know.”

gojo groans, low and deep. his hands move— one sliding up higher up your thigh, the other tangling in your hair as he pulls you toward him, his lips finally crashing against yours.

the kiss is messy, heated, all tongue and teeth and pent-up frustration. you don't even remember shifting onto his lap, only that his hands are on your hips, gripping tight enough to leave marks. his breath is ragged when he pulls back, forehead pressed against yours. your lipstick stains his lips, smudged, messy, sinful.

“you really wanna do this now?” his voice is rough, uneven. his fingers slip beneath your dress, brushing against your bare skin. “because if i start talking now, i won't stop. and i'd rather have you like this, falling apart in my hands. or my tongue. begging for more.”

your pulse is wild, but you don't back down. “satoru.” you lift a hand, softly wiping the lipstick from his lips. “tell me.” his sigh is one of defeat, his head falling back on the headrest. “i didn't hire you to protect me.” his voice is quieter now, raw in a way you've never heard before. “i hired you because i wanted you close.”

your breath catches. gojo chuckles, but there's no humor in it. “you ran from me nine years ago,” he presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck— wet, lingering. “did you really think i was going to let you do it again?”

your eyes burn with emotions— ones you don't have time to process because gojo's lips trail lower, his tongue flicking out, teasing, tasting. "being an influential young man got me some enemies. I had to know how to fight like a soldier— if not better. as the years went by, I became even more influential. and with some quick calls, I was able to find you."

“i don't think i deserve you, gojo.” the words spill out, breathless. gojo clicks his tongue, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his hands frame your face “sweetheart,” his voice barely above a whisper “let's go inside,” his teeth graze your skin “i'm going to show you just how much you deserve me.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you barely step through the threshold before gojo's hands are on you again, pushing you against the wall. his kiss is devastating, all-consuming, a plea and a demand in one. his hands roam, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers again.

“you're killing me,” he groans, voice hoarse, “i need you. need to taste you.” your dress is barely hanging on, undone but still covering you like some cruel temptation, and that makes it worse for him. he doesn't pull it off— not yet. his fingers skim the fabric, then push it up, bunching around your waist. that's when he sees them.

your light blue panties— delicate, sheer, adorned with tiny pearls. the one he meticulously chose for you earlier. he fucking loses it at the sight.

“sweetheart.” his voice shatters, his breath stuttering as his thumb brushed the pearls, the fabric already damp. a pretty little thing wrapped up so nicely just for him. his hands shake when he presses his palm flat against your cunt, cupping you through the soaked fabric. “you're so wet. you wanted me this bad?”

you whimper, nodding, your knees already weak.

he drops to his knees so fast it's almost embarrassing. he doesn't even push your panties aside right away. instead, he leans in, kissing up your thighs— not just to tease, but to worship. his lips press against every scar, every mark, each one a silent promise. “i should've been there,” he murmurs, his fingers squeezing your legs. “i will take care of them later.”

“satoru—”

his mouth finds the inside of your thigh first, biting down hard enough to make you whimper before soothing the mark with his tongue. then finally, finally, his mouth is on you. a hot, wet, messy kiss pressed right against your cunt, sucking you through the fabric of your panties. you gasp for air, your hands tightening on his white hair, earning a moan from him, an actual moan.

his tongue pressed flat against your cunt, teasing you through the pearls and lace. you gasp, body jolting, thighs trying to squeeze together, but he won't let you. his strong hands hold you open, force you to take it.

“f-fuck—" you breathe, fingers diving into his hair.

gojo grinds his face into your pussy like a possessed man. “god, you taste sweet even through this,” he slurs, drunk on it, his voice muffled. “missed having my mouth on you.”

his tongue dragged over the fabric, lapping, teasing, sucking, his fingers slipping underneath to pull them to the side. “Gojo—” your head slams back against the wall.

he didn't let you finish as he spreads your pussy open with his thumbs and buried his face between right into your core, eating you out like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else. like he needed to prove something.

it's sloppy, desperate, obscene.

he's licking into you with long, deep strokes, his nose bumping against your clit. his fingers dug into your ass, yanking you closer, forcing you to grind against his mouth, fucking his tongue with every rool of your hips.

“t-too much—” your body is trembling.

“been too long, huh? missed me eating your pretty little pussy?” sliding his tongue down to fuck into you, groaning when you clenched around him. you were so wet, so fucking wet, dripping down his chin as he worked you over, puling moans out of you that made his cock throb painfully against his zipper.

his arms wrap around your waist, locking you in place, forcing you to take everything he gives. his moans vibrate against your skin, needy, delirious, he's getting off on this as much as you are. “taste so fucking sweet,” his voice is muffled by your heat. “could stay down here forever.” he doesn't stop, doesn't let up— not even when your thighs squeeze around his head, when you're shaking so hard you can barely breathe.

your body locks up, pleasure tightening, so close it hurts. his fingers dig into your flesh, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking just right, and that's all it takes— you break apart with a cry, shuddering, coming all over his tongue.

gojo groans like he's tasting something forbidden, something addictive, lapping it all up, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

by the time he pulls away, his lips and chin are glistening, his pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling like he just ran miles. your dress is still on, but your panties are pushed to the side, and gojo is a wrecked mess between your legs, staring at you like he's ready to die for you.

 “come here.” you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a flithy desperate kiss. his hands scrambled to get his belt open, shaking so badly he barely undo it. “l-let me help,” you whisper, your hands brushing his as you pull his belt free, undoing his zipper. “i want to make it up to you” you look at him in the eyes “for running away.” your hands slide over his thighs, palming the thick outline of him through his pants. he's already rock-hard. gojo let out a pathetic whimper. “s-shit, you don't have to—”

the second you slide down his boxers, his cock slaps against his stomach, thick, flushed, dripping. “f-fuck—” he lets out when your hand wraps around him. he's so hard it must be painful, a bead of precum leaking from the flushed tip.

you dropped to your knees and looking up at him through your lashes “i need to, satoru” 

gojo chokes “fuck— yeah, please—” with nothing more you took him in your mouth. his hands immediately flying to your hair, not pulling, just holding, like he needs something to ground himself

his entire body jerked as your tongue drags up his length, flicking over the tip before you sink down, taking him deep. tongue pressing against the thick vein running along his dick. you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head, your hand stroking the rest of him. it's slick and obscene, the sounds echoing in the hallway. your lips stretched around him.

“f-fuck— sweetheart,” gojo is a mess above you. a whimpering, panting mess. his thighs tensed, his whole body shudders. “fuck, f-fuck— too good, it's too fucking g-good—” he wants you to let you continue. he wants to watch you take him apart. 

but he wants to feel you. it's been nine long years for fuck sake. he just needs your pretty little cunt wrapping around his cock. “i-if you don't stop— shit— if you d-don't stop r-right n-now, i'm gonna—” he grabs your wrists, and you pulled off with a sinful pop, lips swollen, eyes gleaming.

“bed. now.” 

except… you don't make it to the bed…

you get as far as the couch before you're shoving him down, straddling his lap, gripping his shoulders. his cock is still out, flushed, leaking, twitching against his stomach. and your soaked panties are still on, pulled to the side, teasing him.

“reverse cowgirl.” you say, full of tease. his brain short-circuits. “w-what?” you don't answer. you just move, shift until your back is to him. you give him a full view on the open dress, the curves of your body, the barest glimpse of your soaked panties sill clinging to your folds.

“oh, fuck— ohhh fuck.” his head drops back against the couch. his hands finding your waist as you took his base and let your hips ever so slowly sink down.

you both are drowning. “t-toru— ahh, ‘s big—” your voice breaks. you forgot how fucking big he is. surely the biggest cock you��ve ever took. “th-that's okay, s-sweetheart,” gojo is hardly holding on, shaking beneath you. “you're d-doing good— fuck— your walls are sucking me i-in. i— fuckfuckfuck—”

inch by inch, you take him, stretching, gasping, feeling him pulse inside you.

sweat drips down your back. gojo leans in, licks it up. and then— 

he loses his patience. 

he grabs your hips, slams you down, and fuck, you both scream. his fingers are bruising, his breath wrecked against your spine, and you're already a trembling, cock-drunk mess in his lap. “t-toru— please—”

“shhh, sweetheart,” he pants, barely coherent. “let me make you mine again.” 

he drags you down onto him, thrusting up to meet you, filling you so deep you can feel him in your stomach. “ohhh— fuuuck, toru—” your hands scrambling for purchase against the couch as you rock back against him.

“that's right, sweetheart,” his forehead pressed against your bare spine. “take me— please, take all of me.” he pulls you back onto him harder, a desperate, needy little sound escaping his throat when he sees the way your pretty blue panties cling to you, your pussy stretched around the base of his cock, underwear soaked. “s-shit, your panties— fuck, that's so—” gojo can't even finish his sentence. his hands slip under your dress, his fingers finding your hard nipples and pinches them through your bra.

“satoru, i—” you sob, rolling your hips, grinding down. “that's it, ride me,” he begs, his hands palming your soft breasts. “you feel so fucking good, s-so tight—” you lift your hips just to slam back down, picking up a rhythm, and gojo loses his fucking mind. his moans spilling out in rapid desperate gasps. “fuck, baby—”

his length throbs inside you, his hips bucking up uncontrollably. he grabs at you, at your dress, your thighs, anywhere he can touch, his lips pressing frantic, open-mouthed kisses along your back. 

“d-don't stop— please— ohh f-fuck, please don't stop—” he sounds so ruined, so completely fucking gone.

somehow you grind down even harder, sending the poor guy's body jolting. he's straight-up choking, his moans turn high-pitched, pathetic, whimpering. “sweetheart, i-i can't— oh fuck, i'm gonna—” his voice breaks, shaking “i can't hold it— i can't, i can't—” 

you lean back against his chest, turning just enough to catch the sight of him— his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth parted, his entire body trembling beneath you. “t-toru,” you whimper, tightening around him. “cum for me.”

that's it. that's all it takes.

Gojo slams you down onto him one last time, a ragged, broken cry ripping from his throat. His cock pulses deep inside you, his grip on you almost bruising as he spills into you, moaning like he’s coming apart at the seams. his chest rising and falling erratically, his entire body completely ruined.

and even as the pleasure fades, he doesn't let go. “you're mine. not letting you go again.” he doesn't give you time to respond as he suddenly grabs your wrists, shoving you face-down into the couch. “but that doesn't mean i'm done with you.” his body is still trembling, his cock still throbbing inside you, slick with both of your release.

“one round isn't enough,” heavy voice in your ear. he rolls his hips once, slow and deep, dragging his dick through the mess he's made of you.

your whimper is swallowed by the cushions, fingers clawing at the fabric as he strats moving again. his pace is slow at first, torturous, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open again. then he pulls out almost completely—just the tip remained inside— before slamming back in, so deep your vision blurs.

“mhhh— satoru!” the force of it knocks the breath out of you, makes you choke on your own moan. his hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your back, fisting your hair.

“look at you, sweetheart,” he pants, voice slurred, filthy. “so wet—so messy—fuck, listen to yourself.” and oh, you can hear it. the lewd, obscene squelching of your cunt sucking him back in with every thrust. it's dripping down your thighs, coating his cock, soaking the couch beneath you.

“s'dripping” he groans, pulling out just to watch the way your hole clenches, fluttering around nothing. your slick mixed with his cum spills out. glistening, pooling between your legs. “fucking— shit” he grits his teeth, fisting his cock, slapping it against your swollen cunt. “such a pretty mess."

“p-please,” you sob, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him. you're so sensitive, already teetering on the edge again. “please what?” his grip tightens in your hair, yanking your head back so his lips brush your ear. “use your words, sweetheart. beg for it.” your brain is mush, squirming beneath him, but you give him what he wants.

“please— please, t-toru fuck me— use me. w-want you s-so bad— need you so bad—” his breath shudders “you're so hot,”

and he slams back into you, deeper, harder, faster. you scream, your arms giving out as he fucks you into the cushions. his pace is wild, frantic, desperate— his cock found your g-spot. hitting it over and over again. until you're body is nothing but raw nerves and white-hot pleasure.

“y-you like this?” gojo struggles finding his breathe, sweat dripping down his temple. “like getting fucked stupid? like being ruined?” you can't even speak— just babbling his name.

“sweetheart, im not gonna last— fuck, i wanna feel you cum again, i need to feel it—” he moans, he swears your cunt was made perfectly for him and only him. one hand slipping between your legs, fingers rubbing at your clit in messy, quick circles.

“come on— cum on my cock, wanna feel your cum all over me,” your whole body seizes, pleasure ripping through you so hard you think you black out for a second. you scream his name, back arching, legs shaking, walls clenching tight around him he nearly collapses. “ohh— ohhh ‘s gooood— wrapping around my cock aghn,”

his hips snap forward, his voice breaking as he lets out white long hot creams. he cums so much, it leaks out around his dick— balls.

for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, the lewd, sticky wetness between your legs, the faint creak of the couch beneath you. gojo breaks it with a breathless, shaky laugh. “you're a fucking dream,” he mumbles, pressing lazy, wet kisses to your shoulder. his arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“satoru…” you whisper his name, running your fingers through his damp hair. he exhales and lifts you into his arms. he carries you like you're something sacred, irreplaceable. something he'll never allow to slip through his fingers again.

"bedroom," he murmurs against your temple. “i need to love you properly.” your breath catches, a lump forming in your throat. this is different. you wrap your arms around him as he carries you through the dimly lit house, his body still inside yours, still pulsing, still clinging to every last bit of warmth you give him.

tonight, he took you like he was desperate. like he had something to prove, like he needed to reclaim you after all these years apart. but now…

now he's looking at you like you hung the stars in his sky.

when he lays you down on his bed, it feels like the world stops. like you both exist in your own universe. gojo hovers over you, his hands tracing over every inch of you. he maps your body with his touch, memorizes you with his lips, presses soft, reverent kisses over your skin.

and he pauses when he reaches your scars. trembling hands ghost over them, his expression unreadable. his eyes, impossibly blue even in the dim light, flicker up to yours. his fingertips linger on your scars, tracing them so gently it make your breath hitch.

“nine years,” his lips press over each mark, worshipping. “nine agonizingly years without you.” your chest aches. you cup his face, wiping the single tear coming down his cheek with your thumb. gojo closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like he needs it to breathe. “you don't get it.” muttering it more to himself than you.

he looks down at you like you're everything. like he doesn't believe you're real.

you don't get a chance to respond before he's kissing you—slow, deep. it's not just hunger, not just lust. it's grief, it's relief, it's the kind of love that breaks you open and remakes you all at once.

when he finally pushes into you, it's not desperate. it's deliberate— he's trying to mold himself to you, he wants to leave an imprint of himself inside you forever. “satoru—”

“i know, sweetheart,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. “let me love you.” 

you do. you let him take his time. let him move in deep, slow thrusts that leave you breathless. let him pull every last moan from your lips until your nails dig into his back. his name falls from your lips like a prayer, over and over again.

“feel that?” satoru takes your chin in his hand, making you look at him. “feel how deep i am? how i'm filling you up?” there's no rush, just the overwhelming feeling of being connected— having each other the way you were always meant to.

“toru, please,” you gasp into his mouth. “i've got you,” he mutters, noise brushing against yours. his fingers lace through yours, pinning your hands above your head, your legs wrapping around his waist, your body arching into him. 

“you're everything,” he whispers. “you always were.” your chest tightens, you feel yourself shatters as heat coils in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter.

you're so full of him, of love, of longing, of everything you've spent nine years trying to ignore.

“i love you,” and it sets something free inside you.

gojo chokes on his breath. his rhythm stutters. his fingers tighten around yours. his lips tremble against your skin. “say it again,” he begs.

“i love you, Satoru.” his hips snap into you harder, pace remaining slow as if he's trying to commit every part of you to memory. “say it again, sweetheart.”

“i love you—” his body tenses, his release crashing over him at the same time you hit yours. his lips find yours as you both shatter together.

when he collapses on top of you, he doesn't let go. doesn't even try. you're still tangled together, still connected when he speaks. “i was serious,” you hum, sleepy, completely boneless in his arms. “about what?” his fingers stroke over your hip. “about calling you my wife.” 

you tilt your head, searching his face. he's looking at you like you're his entire world. he's never been more sure of anything in his life. “i don't just want you here tonight,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “i want you here forever.”

tears sting your eyes, but you smile, brushing his hair out of his face. “then start calling me that now, satoru.” gojo grins— that beautiful, bright, devastating grin.

“come here, wife.”

[glitchinginthegarden]

Woke up with thoughts so here we go:

Johnny’s behavior early in the game makes 100% sense and I support it because it fits his character writing and situation.

I've been seeing a lot of newer cyberpunk players getting onto the "Johnny is an absolute piece of shit" / "why would anyone do anything for this douchebag" soapbox and they're entitled to that opinion BUT...

Coming from the perspective of having completed the game multiple times and done plenty of digging into the ttrpg stuff, it fits. We also have to keep in mind the unreliable narrator factor but that's another thing all together.

In the beginning (after the nightmare night), Johnny is playing the face of cool dude who's suddenly on V's side while actively attempting to manipulate them. This tracks for his character, yes, but also for Night City.

If their positions were swapped, I know for a fact my V would be doing the same exact thing to her unwilling host. Which, when you break it down, is simply an attempt to regain control over a situation where she has none.

I don't blame Johnny in the slightest for that at that point in the plot. It's in human nature to fight tooth and nail for survival. Why would that not extend to someone who's been trapped in soul prison for fifty years too?

He's just "escaped" Mikoshi only to wake up imprisoned (again) in the mind of a complete stranger. Can you blame him for trying to find an angle he can work there?

Because I don't.

Everything tells us yes, Johnny is an asshole who historically has generally only looked out for himself. But not that he's been actively or maliciously intent on causing harm to the people around him. He doesn't behave the way he does for the hell of it, he does it (in my opinion) because in the past, his flavor of manipulation has worked and usually gotten him what he wants.

Which brings me to another thing: I've also seen some comments about how he doesn't tell V certain things depending on how you talk to him. That he withholds more if V is nice than when they're more mean to him. And that also tracks for his character.

Now, I will say that I haven't played a lot of "be mean to Johnny" runs, but if he does drop more info for that, I'm not surprised. Case and point: the oil fields.

Johnny is a person who won't take shit seriously unless he gets a kick in the ass for his behavior. V has to call him on his bullshit to get that sweet approval boost for Don't Fear The Reaper. So, it ultimately it makes sense for him to cough up more information along the line if V isn't being nice about getting it or calls him on being a dodgy fuck. Johnny doesn't fuck with weak people unless he can use them, that's not a secret.

He's playing his cards close to his chest for the most part and it makes sense. He has sparingly few hands to play after 50 years in soul prison. Why would he show his spread to someone who, depending on where you are in the plot, ultimately wants to end him again and scrape him off their brain? He's trying to survive.

He's a disabled man with a grand total of eighty something years of untreated ptsd and people wonder why he's not forthcoming with what he knows? Of course he's not. It's unreasonable to expect that, and especially from a character like his.

The point I'm trying to get to here, I suppose, is that I support Johnny’s wrongs because they're in line with his character and that's part of what makes him so well written. Yes, he's an asshole. Yes, he manipulates and lies and cheats to serve his needs. But, c'mon, look at the whole picture. Look at the setting and the other players on the board, and tell me it doesn't make perfect sense.

[traincat]

i’d pay you real money for that “maybe baby” fic.

You can have it for free, but I do have a ko-fi if anyone is interested: https://ko-fi.com/traincat.

Anyway, the baby fic! Based on Fantastic Four Annual 2010, set nebulously post-Secret Wars (2015). I started this in 2016, so we didn't have any definitive answers for the Fantastic Four's return, but it's not really relevant to the fic anyway. I'm still putting together a list of the other WIPs I'm willing to release, but this is one is easy, so here it is.

Baby fic!

***

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h well this is still less complicated than the time i rescued a highlander

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h aw she likes her uncle benjy @clobberintime #rockstar

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h good thing about this is @peterbparker never checks his phone so he's still gonna be surprised

--

The first thing Peter registered was the vaguely defensive look on Johnny's face. The second was the baby.

"Wherever you found it, you put it back right now," he said.

The look Johnny gave him was venomous. "Oh, sure. Let me just toss the helpless infant back where she came from! What a great idea, thank you, Peter!"

"I'll get the portal ready," Val said. She was sitting crosslegged way on the other end of the room, holding a tablet computer like a shield and eyeing the baby like she might try to bite her.

"Shush," Johnny said, but it wasn't clear whether he meant it for the baby or Val or possibly for Peter, whose jaw had started making a strange grinding noise of its own volition.

Peter leaned forward to get a better look. The baby had ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes and she was squirming in Johnny's arms even as he hummed and hushed and bounced her up and down, still dressed in his costume. She was so small, wrapped in what looked like one of the shock blankets from the Fantasticar's emergency kit.

"If I put her down, she starts to cry," Johnny confessed.

Peter's heart was doing something disturbingly close to melting. He tugged off a glove and reached out with tentative fingers, stroking soft cheek and wispy dark hair. The baby yawned, barely batting an eye.

Peter looked at Johnny and said, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Johnny wasn't looking at him, though - his gaze was fixed on the baby, eyes soft.

"Look, Peter, you need to know before this part gets out - Reed ran all the tests. She's mine, Pete."

That threw Peter for a loop, but looking for traces of Johnny in the baby's face - yeah, he could see it.

"How? And don't tell me the usual way. Where did she come from?"

Johnny told him: the club, the girl, the supervillain. Peter hissed in sympathy when he hit the part about Psycho Woman spending two months hanging around in Johnny’s brain, touching his fingers to Johnny's temple. Johnny's voice wavered as he got to the end: the fall, the jump, Amy's disappearance through time.

"But time travel's weird. And we've torn everything apart and rebuilt it so many times… Amy never came back after she made the temporal jump," Johnny said, sliding Peter a cautious look, like he thought he might - what, upset? "I've gone looking for her before, but if she was out there, she didn't want me to find her. And then today we were just looking between dimensions, you know?"

"Just your typical Sunday," Peter said, mouth on autopilot while the rest of him was stunned. Johnny's child, here, safe in Johnny's arms - and to think Peter had swung in to ask about dinner and beating up the Shocker.

"Reed found traces of a familiar cosmic radiation signature," Johnny said, shaking his head. "Mine. And then we found her."

"So," Peter echoed, feeling lost. "She's yours. Really yours."

"Yeah," Johnny said, nodding. "She was all alone and in between. But she's alive and she's mine."

Peter leaned his head against Johnny's. "She's a little small for the Future Foundation."

"Well, the weird thing is," Johnny said, smiling, "they don't stay that way for long."

Val put the tablet down and said, "Oh come on, are we seriously not going to throw her back?"

--

Peter Parker @peterbparker 15m he promised me life would never be boring…

--

It had been at the end of the world. The incursion had been fast approaching, and this time - this time Peter could feel it in his bones. The end, just over the horizon.

It had scared him more than he ever wanted to admit.

"You're coming with us," Johnny had told him in a voice that brooked no argument. He'd caught Peter's hands in his own inhumanly warm ones, squeezing. "Reed says we'll have time once we're beyond. We'll work something out. We can fix it."

Peter had wanted it, so badly - but. Always the but.

"I should stay with the city. You've got room for, what, a hundred people?"

"Sixty," Johnny admitted, forehead creased in worry. "Peter - you're one of the big brains. You belong with us."

"One of, but not big enough," Peter said. "You need my spot for someone smarter, someone who can help fix this -"

The kiss had been unexpected, a tentative thing, just the soft press of Johnny's lips against his masked mouth, Johnny's fingertips careful as anything underneath his chin.

"You're family," he said, breaking apart, his forehead resting against Peter's. "And you're coming with us. We'll have time."

Peter took a deep shuddering breath and said, "Okay."

He let himself have this one selfish thing, standing on top of the Statue of Liberty with Johnny Storm the day before the end of the world.

He let himself be selfish, and then the raft split apart and Johnny paid the price. He knew it deep in his bones, every second he watched Johnny fall away. Maybe that was why he didn't say anything when they were returned safe and sound to their own world. Or maybe it was cowardice, him waiting for Johnny to make the first move a second time. Maybe it was the way he still remembered blinking the spots from his eyes down in Battleworld, staring at the sun in search of a familiar face.

It didn't matter. He had Parker Industries, and Johnny had moved on with Medusa. Peter had gotten one kiss at their usual spot - if that was all he was granted, well, it was more than enough for two lifetimes. He could live with it.

Except he lost the company, Medusa worked it out with Black Bolt, the missing members of the Fantastic Family returned with a fairly literal bang, and Johnny and Peter ended up crash landing in a rooftop hotel pool.

Parker Luck, doing its very finest.

He'd taken the brunt of the hit, thankful for it - he was more durable than flamed-off Johnny - but the rush of cold water made him gasp, fighting his way to the surface. Johnny surfaced beside him, gasping, and Peter grabbed a handful of his collar. He dragged them both to the shallow end as tourists scattered left and right.

"We're fine, thanks for asking!" Peter shouted after them. "Can anybody grab me a towel?" Johnny was laughing by the time Peter collapsed against the steps, languishing in knee deep water. "New Yorkers. What's so funny?"

"You," Johnny said, looking at Peter with shining eyes. He started laughing again when Peter groaned, shoulders shaking with it. Peter slid a hand over the back of his head, checking for bumps.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Peter said. He told himself to take his hand off Johnny, but he didn't. He just kept touching him, pushing Johnny's soaked hair up off his forehead. Johnny was staring at him, all traces of humor gone from his face. Now or never. Peter swallowed hard. "Johnny, you know I -"

"Just shut up," Johnny said, climbing into Peter's lap. He shoved Peter's soaked mask up over the bridge of his nose, twining his arms around Peter's neck. "Shut up, shut, god, Pete, why don't you ever say anything important?"

The kiss made Peter's head spin -and he had to grab Johnny by the shoulders and put some considerable strength into prying him off just long enough so he could talk.

"Me? What about you?" he said. "I thought - you never said anything when we got back."

"What about me?" Johnny said, pouting a little when Peter wouldn't let him lean forward again. "You're supposed to be the smart one."

Peter couldn't argue with that without walking straight into a trap.

"Dammit," he said, and pulled Johnny back on top of him until security showed up.

--

May Parker-Jameson @mayparker 3m When you learn important family news from TWITTER of all places

--

"May - May, I am telling you, I did not know about this," Peter said, standing in the doorway with the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear, one hand in his hair, the other on his hip. "Because I'm pretty sure you knew before me, is why. No, I don't know - I got home and he was holding a baby, okay, that is the extent of the story. He found her. Yeah, like, with a dog - I'm not calling your grandchild a dog, your grandchild, what, whose side are you on?!"

Johnny was laughing at him from the other room, which he thought was completely unfair. Peter threw strangling motions at him, scowling. Johnny stuck his tongue out. The baby cooed.

"Can I put him on the phone? Can I make him explain this to you?" he said, listing to the side until his head hit the doorframe.

"Hi, May!" Johnny called cheerfully, making the baby wave. He was a monster and Peter deeply hated his coalition with his aunt. He zoned back in time to hear "- you're my nephew, I want to hear it from you."

"I'm your nephew, yeah, but he's the one who went time hopping and found his kid." He sobered, rubbing at his forehead. "Honestly, May, I'm telling you, I know as much as you do."

"Well, I could do with knowing her name," May said, clucking her tongue.

Peter blanked. He cupped a hand over the receiver and leaned forward. "Johnny. What's her name?"

Johnny blinked, then looked down at the baby. "Um."

"Yeah, May?" Peter said into the phone. "We're actually going to have to get back to you on that one."

--

Jennifer Walters @jenatlaw 30m Some days it's just not worth your custom ordered MAC foundation. "Crocodile” btw.

Jennifer Walters @jenatlaw 30m Told the woman I was really more of a shark. She didn't laugh. It's not easy being green, folks.

--

Jen dropped off paperwork with a lot of eyerolling, a threat of resignation, and an order that the baby be kept away from her.

"This is Stella McCartney," she said, gesturing to her blazer. "You keep that thing out of range."

"Hey!" Johnny protested.

(...)

Jen gave the baby one last warning look and then whirled out on her heels, moloid kids flocking in her wake.

"Auntie Jen is a scary Hulk," Johnny told the baby. The baby gurgled in agreement.

"Auntie Jen heard that!" Jen yelled from the hall. "Start with picking a name! Jennifer's a great one!"

"Have you considered Petunia?" Ben asked nonchalantly.

"I have never and will never consider Petunia," Johnny said blithely. "Next suggestion."

"Howzabout Benjamina?" said Ben.

"No," Johnny said. Peter made a hemming noise and he repeated, forcefully, "No."

"Benita?" Ben said, rocky brows raised high. Peter stifled a snicker with a fake cough, ducking his head.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Johnny asked Ben, scowling.

"I came back from space for this family and this is the treatment I get," Ben grumbled, getting up off the sofa. He paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. His gaze went all soft at the sight of Johnny and the baby. Peter couldn't blame him. "Hey, kid. I'm really happy for ya."

Johnny looked up at him and smiled, tired and real. "Love you too, Rocky."

Ben heaved a great sigh like Johnny's love was some kind of terrible life sentence - Peter knew the feeling - and left the room.

"This is hard," Johnny said, throwing his head back. The baby was asleep in his arms, blissful in her ignorance. "Can I conference in Victor?"

"Please don't," Peter said. He stroked the baby's soft, downy hair with one gentle finger, feeling an equal mix of awe and terror. "Marie?"

"Like Mary?" Johnny said, contemplative. "My mom's name was Mary."

Peter shifted. "Uh, sure. But also like - Marie Curie?"

Johnny looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "Are you serious?"

"She discovered two elements!" Peter said, defensive.

"She died from radiation poisoning!" Johnny said. "I don't care if it worked out for you!"

(...)

"Just in the grand plan for my life, this is not how I thought it'd go," Peter said.

"And then you got bit by a radioactive spider and all the rules went out the window," Johnny said, yawning. "Old news. Pete, you know I'd never ask you to do anything you're not ready for. I want this, but if you don't -"

The sincerity on his face was unbearable. Peter cupped a hand to his face and shut him up the only way that ever really worked.

"Aimee," Johnny said at last. His head fell to Peter’s shoulder; Peter curled a hand in his hair. "After her mom."

"I like it," Peter said, watching her sleep. "Aimee it is."

Aimee Benni Storm was what was written on the birth certificate in the end. Johnny looked Peter straight in the eye and said, "You tell Ben and you're a dead man."

--

(...)

"See?" Sue said, humming. "Living with the in-laws has its perks. I remember this age - it's a good one. Just wait 'til they can talk back."

"I love you," Peter told her. "Leave Reed and run away with me to Majorca."

Sue smirked, leaning over to palm his cheek. "You're adorable."

--

"Whoa," Miles said, flipping out of nowhere and matching his swing with Peter's. "Is that a baby?"

"Here," Peter said. "Why don't you hold her for a sec?"

"Oh, I don't, um, okay, wow, hi, baby," Miles stammered when Peter didn't give him much of a choice. Aimee was a sucker for anyone in webs, so Miles ended up making alarmed sounds when tiny hands tried to grab his mask. "When did you get a baby?"

"She's the Human Torch's baby, technically," Peter said, stretching.

Miles looked down, clearly alarmed through the mask. "Is she gonna light on fire too?"

Aimee cooed.

"Nah," Peter said, arms high above his head. "Probably not."

"Peter!" Miles said.

"I am like 98% sure she will remain flame free," Peter said. "But fine, give her back."

Peter was pretty sure the only reason Miles didn't thrust Aimee back was because he was too afraid to make any sudden moves. She made a sleepy, annoyed noise when Peter lifted her from Miles's arms.

"Why do you have the Human Torch's baby?" Miles asked, a very quiet version of shouting.

(...)

"Last chance to keep her," Peter said.

"I'm good," Miles said.

--

“Okay,” Sue said when she found them in the kitchen at three in the afternoon. Johnny was still in pajamas; Peter was wearing half his spider-suit. Aimee was wearing brunch. “Enough is enough. When was the last time either you left this building?”

“Carjacking,” Peter said, yawning. “Guy dressed like a possum knocking over a Chase. Do I need to go on?”

Johnny was trying to get mashed banana out of his hair. “I don’t know, I think I did something - Tuesday? Was it Tuesday? I had that interview.”

“You cancelled that interview,” Sue told him.

“Huh,” said Johnny, then made an outraged squawking noise when Sue swept in and grabbed the baby from him. “Hey!”

“You’re going out tonight,” Sue said, eyes narrowed. “Together.”

Johnny and Peter stared at each other.

“Together, like, him and me?” Peter said, gesturing between them.

“I think we used to do that,” Johnny said faintly.

“Save the comedy routine,” Sue told them, bouncing Aimee in her arms. All the mashed banana didn’t seem to bother her. She jerked her chin first at Johnny, then at Peter. “You, put on something nice. You - try to do the same. I’m making a reservation for you someplace nice, without supervillains or babies.”

“Do we have to?” Peter asked.

“Can’t we just sleep instead?” Johnny said.

“No,” Sue said. “It’ll be good for you.”

“This is not paying me back for all the times I babysat for you!” Johnny called after her as she carried Aimee from the kitchen down the hall.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sue said. “Ben owes me a favor.”

Johnny scowled at her back. “She took my baby.”

“Aw no,” Peter said, plucking at his spandex. “I’m going to have to wear a dinner jacket, aren’t I.”

--

Peter came through the door so tired he couldn't see straight, only to have a baby shoved into his arms. Aimee gurgled happily when Peter's arms came up around her automatically.

"Oh no," he said. "Johnny, I'm about to fall over -"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Johnny said, not sounding very sorry at all. He leaned into kiss Peter - that Peter kissed back was muscle memory, he was pretty sure, because the only thing he felt towards Johnny in that second was the sleep-deprived urge to strangle. "I've got that photoshoot, remember? I'll be back soon, I promise. Love you!"

Peter watched him go with narrowed eyes.

"Should we tell him his shirt's on backwards, Firebug?" he asked Aimee. She put her head down against his shoulder with an annoyed sounding little sigh. "No? No." He hummed to her, heading for the couch. "I'm gonna go evil and I'm gonna kill your dad, yes I am. This is my supervillain origin story."

(...)

"Peter? Are you awake?" Franklin whispered.

"M'just resting my eyes," Peter replied.

"Okay," Franklin said hesitantly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Peter cracked an eye open. "Do you have a Galactus stashed in the basement?"

"No," Franklin said, looking a little put out about it.

"Then go for it," Peter said, yawning.

Franklin was quiet for so long Peter had almost drifted off when he spoke.

"When Dad and Mr. Reece and I were putting the universes back the way they should be… I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I knew Uncle Johnny was going to be lonely without us, and I think I maybe accidentally gave him Aimee back."

Peter rolled over onto his back, fully awake now. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, thoughts tumbling - how unfair it was that any kid in the universe should be able to do what Franklin could. How glad he was that if any kid could, it was Franklin.

"But I think I messed up," Franklin said. "She didn't end up where she was supposed to."

(...)

--

"Okay," Peter said, "I know this might not be the best kind for this conversation -"

"You are gifted with the understatement!" Johnny shouted as he streaked by a little too close for comfort, a rush of flames and heat.

"Spidey," Johnny said, swooping down to hover in front of him. "Get to the point, please."

"My point," Peter said, as best as he could with Johnny so bright and so hot and so close, "is that we might need a nanny."

Johnny turned his face towards him, his eyes glowing embers and his face barely more than an outline in flickering flames - and then he burst out laughing.

"Oh," he said, darting away. He circled a group of bugs, leaving them huddled together and clacking while Ben bagged them. "Now he wants a nanny. Do you believe this?"

(...)

--

Ben Grimm @clobberintime 1m when you wanna watch the game and the marrieds + kid are asleep on the couch. what a revoltin development.

--

Peter woke slowly, drifting in and out of consciousness, too warm and content to care.

"Ben took a photo of us and put it on the internet," Johnny said, waving his phone.

***

And that's the WIP! Not much action, just Johnny and Peter being cute with a baby.

[tired-reader-writer]

Thinking about Wolfsong. I initially had Narsus only find out about the whole Gorgan fiasco after canon events start but recently, I've been kinda reconsidering it. Here is a dump of my thought process in no particular order:

So Narsus likely got the court position pretty soon after the whole Three Kingdoms Alliance thing

Shapur is likely involved in repelling said invasion because 1) Andragoras summoned pretty much almost anyone, and 2) it's coming from the east and his lands are in the northeast, Andragoras might want to mobilize the troops to... Peshawar, perhaps? Before the invading troops can penetrate too deep into the country. Many lords were called, yes, but someone like Shapur, whose domain borders Turk, could possibly be doubly expected to respond since this concerns his region. Just food for thought.

I'm not sure about Narsus' timeline in several parts. How long before the TKA was it that Teos died and Narsus became the new lord of Daylam? Was it then that he freed his slaves? Or was it after the TKA ordeal?

He pretty much self-exiled in Pars era 317, so at MOST he would've had two years. Did he live full-time in the capital? Did he ever return to Daylam, even if just briefly? The Daylami seemed pretty familiar with him.

Now that I think about it, Narsus and his mother (I need to name the lady) were kicked out by Teos' main wife and then were accepted back when the wife passed away some time before Teos' death, so maybe he got more time in Daylam than I thought. The problem is that I forgot when he and his mother were accepted back?

Anyways, this opportunity for an encounter between the two kinda offers me the opportunity to have them meet each other early. I am still contemplating what to do with it. Especially since a couple of the enslaved folk Narsus freed could end up in Gorgan's orbit.

There's no way the Gorgan folk could know about Narsus' abolitionist ideals until Narsus pulls that stunt of freeing all his slaves (I assume it happened in Daylam rather than the capital), I mean there's a small possibility that they might know vaguely but it's more likely that they straight up won't know until Narsus does the societal equivalent of kicking down the door and blasting a horn far and wide. There's also very little possibility of Narsus knowing unless Gorgan reaches out to him first— what with their operation being so hush-hush and crucially under wraps because of the Mardi's caution— and they wouldn't reach out before knowing that Narsus is trustworthy.

But after? Could Shapur possibly reach out? Maybe he would want his children to have an ally he knows can be trusted so they won't be so alone against the world. Would it even be Shapur who reaches out? Would it be Sadiq who advises Shapur to do so? Would it make sense for them to see a potential friend and ally and not take the opportunity, especially when Shapur has already cut ties with his relatives over the Isfan debacle and the region can't exactly trust other nobles willy-nilly. I don't know.

In the scenario that he does reach out and they do end up connecting with each other, what can I do with it? Narsus probably got the court position in 315, in my timeline I put down that Shapur becomes a marzban in 316 (age 32), after some ambiguous campaign that he was called to be part of, so he would have to go to the capital again. I did not find anything significant in the novel timeline in the year 316, so I wouldn't know what the occasion is. But in the hypothetical scenario that they're acquainted with each other by this point, what interesting thing can I do with how they view the capital? Does Narsus ever get to return to Daylam during his time as a court advisor of sorts? What could he do with this?

I have something vague pinned down for after when canon starts, where the Mardi folk (esp Khazān and Arslan? not sure yet) help Daylam defend against Lusitanians and encountering Irina and her crew + Kubard and Merlaine and things rolling from there— could that aid be rooted in a friendship established before that point?

Coordinating trade and stuff between the two regions could be pretty difficult if Narsus isn't there to manage the process, though. So I'm still not sure how it all works out.

In the scenario that there is a connection between Gorgan and Daylam, could Narsus possibly go back to Daylam after his exile instead of going to live on Mt. Bashur in isolation? Because even if somebody else warns him to be careful, I don't think it's possible for Narsus to stay quiet about the corruption and injustices in the capital and eventually he'd snap and get fed up and leave when his concerns go ignored.

I'm... still not sure what would happen after he goes back to Daylam (if he does) or why I'm contemplating this whole situation in the first place BUT here I am, pondering and contemplating anyways.

[whatonearthisgoingon]

Demon Giyuu AU

I've been obsessing over Demon Giyuu and SaneGiyuu, so have a little rant/fic about the idea.

There is also some past SabiGiyuu mentioned, but it's minor. Word Count: 2,151

Okay, so Giyuu is on a standard mission against a Lowermoon or minorly powerful but not ranked demon, when out of nowhere someone in the Upper 3 comes along as a reinforcement for the first demon.

Giyuu tries his absolute hardest to kill the demons, to the point where he unlocks the mark. In the end, with the combination of the Uppermoon and lower ranked demon, Giyuu eventually looses, but he's not dead yet, barely conscious and struggling to move. The Upper demon he's against, is pretty impressed with the fight Giyuu gave, and gives him blood, Giyuu too weak to fight back against it. The two demons leave, not waiting to see if Giyuu survives.

Giyuu, feeling the changes, calls Kanzaburo to send a message to the Master and the Hashiras, before eventually passing out from exhaustion as the transformation starts.

Eventually the Hashiras find Demon Giyuu where he's relatively calm for a recently turned demon. He found a stream nearby and is calmly sitting in the water. He found out pretty early that he can control the water, so he's making it form into a multitude of pretty shapes. The Hashiras approach with caution, but their guard is soon dropped as Giyuu brightly talks to them, stating how he's happy they found him.

The only Hashiras who aren't convinced are Sanemi and Obanai. So what does Sanemi do? He walks up to Giyuu, and slashes his own arm open, the Marechi blood dripping down. Sanemi: "You're still so human, right? So surely this has no effect on you, huh? Go on, you know you want it!"

Giyuu is trying his hardest to resist, backing away as Sanemi merely gets closer, taunting him with the blood. Giyuu's eyes are transfixed on the wound, and his breath is becoming more labored as he tries to resist the demonic urges. Eventually, he's able to turn away from Sanemi, refusing the blood; that's enough to convince the other Hashiras of Giyuu's trustworthiness, just as it worked for Nezuko.

As the night is still high, they bring Giyuu back to the Water Estate, where the Master is waiting. They have a long discussion over Giyuu's new condition; how he can't be in the sun, the Blood Demon Art, how missions with non-hashiras should be avoided, a supplementary beef and pork diet to hopefully substitute any cravings for human flesh, etc. After the big topics are discussed, the biggest question arises; who will stay with Giyuu, and make sure he doesn't go crazy and hurt anyone for the next few weeks or months, as he has only recently transformed? Who is strong enough to keep him in check? All eyes turn to Sanemi.

Sanemi: "Why is everyone looking at me?" Obanai: "As much as I hate to admit it, that prick is stronger than all of us, minus you and Gyomei. But I think we can all agree that Gyomei won't be the best at watching a demon." Sanemi: "I'm not watching over the demon fuck- I hate him! There's no way that I'll be taking care of him-!"

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

Giyuu watches as the door shuts when the last Hashira leaves, leaving him and a fuming Sanemi in a room alone, after the Master commanded Sanemi to stay with Giyuu. It's quiet for a minute, when Giyuu finally speaks.

Giyuu: "Do you have a certain type of tea you like? I can make a pot-" Sanemi: "Shut the fuck up, this is all your fault." Giyuu: " ...... I'll just make myself one then.." He says as he stands up and walks out.

Sanemi eventually joins Giyuu, because he has nothing else to do, and he's stuck with the damn idiot, so why not have some tea while he's at it. The two sit in silence, drinking tea, until Giyuu speaks.

Giyuu: "I don't have much set up in my estate, so we can live together in yours." Sanemi: "Excuse me?" Giyuu: "Well the Master said we had to stay together, so you can watch me- so I presume we'll be staying in the same estate?" Sanemi: Loudly sighs. "Whatever you dumb shit, sure. My estate or whatever. Just don't make a mess, you hear me?" Giyuu: "Of course."

Giyuu goes quiet again, just drinking his tea, but he has a small smile. He doesn't know how to explain it, or why he's feeling it, but he's really happy that he gets to hang out with Sanemi now.

When tea is over, they pack up some of Giyuu's clothes, and they go to Sanemi's Estate before the sun rises. While Giyuu is putting his stuff in the guest bedroom, Sanemi goes around his Estate, making sure all the windows are shut and covered with curtains. There's no way he'd let Giyuu see him doing something nice or caring for him like that, so he rushes to get it all done before Giyuu is done unpacking.

Later Sanemi goes to bed, as does Giyuu, as they had been up all night dealing with demon nonsense. The next night, they go on their first mission together.

As they are now eating meals together, going on missions together, and living together, the two start growing closer together. The animosity and tension is still there, but it has become to change. Rather hating Giyuu's whole dumb face, Sanemi specifically hates that dumb, stupid, disgustingly pretty, blue eyes. Giyuu's opinion on Sanemi's anger has shifted from one of irritation to a minor annoyance with a small hint of fondness to it; it's what makes Sanemi, Sanemi.

One night, Giyuu is calmly sitting in his room, reading something, when he hears a yell and a crash from Sanemi's room. He gets up and goes to Sanemi's room, finding him freshly woken from a nightmare.

Rather asking questions, Giyuu just sits down, gently taking the shaking Sanemi's hand. He's quiet, and just sits there, being a comforting presence as Sanemi's racing heart rate slowly lowers. Sanemi squeezes and relaxes his hold on Giyuu's hand many times, Giyuu's presence grounding him.

After a few minutes, Sanemi does something surprising. He hugs Giyuu. Giyuu is shocked at first, but doesn't fight against it, hugging Sanemi. They sit like that for a few minutes, until Sanemi mumbles a quiet "Thank you."

That night, Giyuu lays back down with Sanemi, holding him in that hug, his hands wrapped around Sanemi's waist. The two fall asleep together as the sun rises, and they are still holding each other when they awake in the evening.

They have a meal together, acting like nothing happened, then go on the night's mission. When they return they do their usual routine of a meal, getting ready for bed, etc. But this night, Giyuu follows Sanemi to his room for sleep. Sanemi, although confused at first, doesn't argue, letting Giyuu lay down with him. He would never admit it, but last night was the best he'd slept in years.

This routine continues, neither man willing to bring up the developing intimate relationship between them. It's easier to stay quiet and let it happen. But over the next month, they grow even closer. Hugging and hand holding around the house is becoming common. They pick food off each other's plates. They cook their meals together in the kitchen, or over a fire on missions. They spar together at night when they don't have a mission.

A few times when the two are talking and are close together, there is a want for more, when the two's faces are only a foot or so apart. Sometimes when they hug, the hands trail a little lower than they're supposed to.

Sanemi is pissed at these feelings. Giyuu is a man- and he's not even a human man. He's a demon. A relationship like that would be an abomination on two levels. They'd be executed for this shit, Giyuu much more instantly than Sanemi would. Sure, they could run, but neither of them want that, do they?

Giyuu on the other hand, is less mad that he likes a man, but that that man is Sanemi. Because he knows why its Sanemi specifically. Sanemi... Sabito... The aggressive personality, the purple eyes with so much emotion behind them, the scars formed in battle from strength and courage. He fell for the same person all over again. And just like all of the other people Giyuu loved, Giyuu is scared that something drastic will happen to Sanemi.

The two continue their "friendship," while both holding these feelings inside of them, refusing to speak to each other, too scared of how the other will feel, and how the world will react.

Some of the Hashiras started noticing the shift in the two's relationship. Iguro notices that Sanemi isn't irritated by the mere thought of Giyuu anymore. Shinobu notices that Giyuu's fascination over Sanemi has only increased into a shared friendship; she is very happy for Giyuu. Mitsuri is happy that there is less tension in Hashira meetings now, because they are getting along.

The only Hashira who really notices that the two men long for more, is Tengen. And he's pretty sure he is more accepting of that idea, than the two men infront of him are.

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

Ubuyashiki: "I trust Giyuu to be by himself now. He has been a demon for about 5 months now, and has proven that he is safe to be around, and safe to be on missions by himself." Looking at Sanemi and Giyuu "Sanemi does not need to watch over Giyuu constantly anymore." He pauses then smiles. "If the two of you.. wish to separate, Giyuu can return to his own estate."

Ubuyashiki says that with a certain tone, and a soft smile on his face, suggesting that he knows the two will most likely not want to separate. He makes it clear that this is an option, not a requirement. He dismisses the meeting, and Sanemi and Giyuu return to the Wind Estate.

Sanemi: "So? Are you staying or going?" Giyuu: "Well.. I mean, all my belongings are here anyway.." Sanemi: Nods a little "Yeah, they are.. but.. you want to stay here still?" Giyuu: "Do you want me to leave?" He says with a slightly sad tone Sanemi: "No!" Realizes he was way too quick and loud with his answer. "I mean, you make my life easier, help with cooking and cleaning shit.." Giyuu: Smiles a little. "Well, I'll go get started.. I'll make sure there's some ohagi for dessert.." Sanemi: "Yeah whatever, I'm getting a shower.." He walks off, not letting Giyuu see the smile on his face, now knowing that Giyuu wants to stay. After living together, fully on their own choice, for a few weeks, Giyuu decides that it's finally time to talk about what the two of them are. On a night without a mission, Giyuu takes Sanemi outside to the backyard of the Wind Estate, at around 11:50 pm. They're sitting quietly looking at the scenery under a full moon, when Giyuu speaks up.

Giyuu: "Sanemi, what are we?" Sanemi: Confused. "What do you mean?" Giyuu: "Well.. we've been living together for a few months. We go on almost every mission together. We eat meals together. We hug and hold hands. We sleep in the same bed. Is it wrong of me to assume there is something more than friendship between us? We are acting like a couple." Sanemi: He freezes up for a minute, not responding. His first instinct is to tell Giyuu off, 'How dare you think of me as a fag.' 'What on earth are you talking about.' But he doesn't. Instead he thinks about his words, before responding. "What do you think of our relationship? How would you react if a name was put on it?" Giyuu: He's quiet while he considers, then sighs. "I.. I wouldn't mind the title.. But if you do mind the title, then I think we should try to distance ourselves into a normal platonic relationship, because that is not where we are at right now." Sanemi: He considers Giyuu's words, then softly whispers. "I wouldn't mind the title.. saying we're.. together" Giyuu: He finally looks at Sanemi, then takes Sanemi's hand in his own. "Well, can I say 'I love you' then, Sanemi?" Sanemi: Laughs a little as he turns red in the cheeks. "Maybe give it a day, but sure.." He smiles, still avoiding eye contact with Giyuu; if he met his gaze, he would probably explode. Giyuu: "Alright.." He stands up, letting go of Sanemi's hand as he does, then turns to the door. "I'll be in bed. Take as long as you need." Looks inside and sees as the clock strikes as midnight. "And, I love you.." He says as he walks inside. Sanemi: Laughs "You're a fucking dick, Tomioka!" He smiles fondly at Giyuu's antics, before quietly whispering once Giyuu leaves. "I love you too.."

[veltana]

Cate's Creation Celebration

Hello and welcome to my first ever writing event! 🫣😅😨😵

My birthday happens to fall the day before Walpurgis Night. Where I'm from we celebrate with friends, watching bonfires, listening to choirs and getting absolutely shitfaced. So we're going to combine that with the myth and folklore of Walpurgis Night and have ourselves a creation celebration! Are you going to confess to your best friend by the flames of the fire, or are you going to get snared by a dark warlock?

There are two parts of this! A writing event and submitting a writing request. For both you need to be +18 to participate. There needs to be some indication of your age in the bio of your blog.

If you want to submit a writing request, you can find the form here. Your askbox needs to be open to be able to participate. Read the rules in the form before submitting.

If you want to participate in the writing event please see the details below!

General details

The writing event is open to the end of May (but I'll accept late entries)

All entries will be put into an event masterlist.

Rules

I read for Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans and sometimes Henry Cavill characters. I'm open to reading other fandoms but no RPF.

Only reader-insert fics. Please use inclusive language and tag accordingly so everyone can have fun!

You don't have to claim a prompt but please keep to the theme of the event.

10k maximum word limit. Please put your fic under a cut after a reasonable amount of words!

Your fic can be part of a series but must be able to be read as a standalone piece.

No fucking AI fics.

No incest, grooming, underage, watersports/scat, vomit, necrophilia, cannibalism, bestiality or similar types of yucky stuff.

Otherwise works can be any genre (fluff, smut, angst ect), just make sure to include appropriate warnings. I do reserve the right to not read and/or reblog something that makes me uncomfortable. I'm not much for really dark fics or whump.

If you only post to AO3 then please send me a link or something so I don't miss it!

Tag @veltana when you post your fic and include #catescreationcelebration in the tags!

Here are some prompts to get the wheels turning!

Dialogue (you're free to change tense):

"Did you put a spell on me!?"

"If magic made wishes come true, what would you wish for?"

"Are you alone out here?"

"You have no idea what forces you're playing with."

"I can't pretend anymore."

"I'm doing this for you!"

"I'm not supposed to fall for someone like you."

"It's really hot."

"Our love will either save the world or doom it."

"Is that a pentagram?"

"Don't tempt me."

"You're not supposed to be here."

"You're adorable."

"Do you feel it? The pull between us?"

"Ugh, I hate this!"

"I'm not just your protector, I'm bound to you."

"I'm really cold."

"I warned you, being near me comes with a price."

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"You're the only light in my dark world."

"I gave up my soul for you."

"I've always wanted to summon a demon."

"You deserve to know."

"I've heard your voice in my dreams."

"The moon has whispered your name to me."

"Oh... oh!"

"I can give you anything you desire, but there is a price."

"Who are you?"

Setting/AU:

Bookstore

Bonfire celebration

Sacrificial ceremony

Cursed/Enchanted forest

Café

Academia

Soulmate

Abandoned cottage

Moonlit grove

Demon

Priest/Priestess

Monster

Omegaverse

Ritual

Warlock/Witch

Tropes:

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

Forced proximity

Fake relationship

Secret relationship

Second-chance

Marriage of convenience

Arranged marriage

Fated mates

Only one bed

Amnesia

Professor/Student

Idiots in love

Fuck or die

Haaaave fuuuuuun~

[painacony]

we need to talk about spoilers and tumblr etiquette

hi all. i've noticed a rising problem in the ssmy/hrkg fandom with people getting spoiled against their will on a website that used to be pretty good about spoilers, particularly in the hrkg side on account of the more frequent chapter updates, plus the influx of people coming from twitter, etc. i'm gonna go out on a limb and assume a lot of you are new to tumblr. i don't fault you for not being familiar with how things work here but we need to talk about how to post in a way that is mindful to others as to not disrupt people's experience, especially with the new chapter schedule and so we don't have to be here every month.

there are really only 2 basic things to keep in mind:

tag your spoilers. tumblr has a pretty functional tagging system, with the option to filter/hide certain tags and key words. if your post contains spoilers it is the most basic of rules to tag them so tumblr filters can do their job. to tag effectively, it's recommended to use #(series name) spoilers. you can use as many tags or variations as you want for more effect.

hide all spoilers under a Read More. tumblr has a function when creating posts where you can add a "cut" and put stuff under it. this will hide the content in the dashboard and people have to click manually to see it. this is also ideal for images, as merely putting a text warning at the top of the post unfortunately does nothing, since our eyes tend to go over the text and land directly on the larger visual. this way, people won't see the spoilers unless they actively choose to.

honestly, that's it. these two things are all you need to do to post spoilers safely so everyone can have a good time.

on to the faq:

Q: why should i tag and hide spoilers?

A: because not everyone likes to get spoiled! some of us want things to be a surprise, and we don't want the experience ruined for us by people posting spoilers out of context. even for the people who don't mind spoilers, they deserve the option to choose whether or not they want to see them. it's just common courtesy and allows people to curate their own experience.

Q: shouldn't people know not to go into the series tag if they're avoiding spoilers? why should i use additional tags?

A: if you tag your posts with the series name or use certain keywords, it doesn't just show up when people explore the tag, but tumblr may put that post in their dashboard or for you tab as a recommended post, so they may end up seeing it against their will even if they stay away from the main tag. also, it's just pretty basic etiquette and provides context.

Q: why is it necessary to hide spoilers under a read more if i already tagged the post?

A: it's possible that posts may bypass tumblr's filtters for whatever reason. maybe it is not the exact same tag as the filtered one (ex. "#hirakagi spoilers" vs "#kagihira spoilers") or someone who reblogged failed to tag it properly, or they didn't have spoilers filtered. hiding under a read more is just an extra safety measure that goes a long way to ensure people don't get jumpscared by unwanted spoilers or images.

hope this helps! honestly other than this the ssmy/kghr community here on tumblr has been amazing and it's been wonderful to see this side of the fandom grow. i just want all of us to blog safely and have a good time. anyone is free to add to this post if there's anything i missed.

[skippingstonez]

yeah yeah very nice and all the legend stuff and sky's upcoming stuff, but imagine riding warriors so hard and so well that he ends up whinning like the pillow princess we all know he is, like, i look at him and I just want to please him until I ruin his pretty boy face with tears of pleasure<3

Not gonna lie I wrote this like 6 different times cause something just kept feeling off. Turns out you just gotta get out of the forest every once in a while <3

Take a Seat

(Wars x Reader)

Warnings: Self-explanatory smut with Wars having a boner basically the whole time. <3 Also a small tidbit of non-con touching.

“Watch out!!”

Wars quickly rolled out of the way, a large boulder crashing into the ground where he just was. The whole room shaking violently as he raises his shield, covering himself as more fiery stones rain down on him, threatening to crush him where he stands. He planted his feet, digging his heels into the rocky soil and using both hands to firmly keep the shield up as he tried to look for the others.

A sharp cry rang out and his feet started moving before he even knew who it was that had yelled. Through the flames he could see you crouched low on the ground, struggling to keep your shield over you as one of the larger rocks slammed down on you. Knees shaking as you fought to stay upright against the heavy weight before it hit the ground beside you. With a clear destination, he reached you in record time, sliding in next to you as he yanked you into his chest, shoving his shield up next to yours to create a larger barrier of protection over your heads. 

“Are you hurt”

You shake your head, trying to make yourself as small as possible next to him as you both wait out the pseudo-storm that ends as quickly as it started. 

Wars lowers his shield cautiously, helping you back up to your feet as a fire keese makes a dive for him. You quickly notch an arrow, shooting it down before Wars can get his sword back in his hands.

“Gods I can't wait to be done with this place!” Wars groans out, wiping sweat off of his forehead. “And if I have to see another one of those blasted bats I'm throwing myself in the lava!”

You snort at his dramatics, “You mean to say our mighty Captain can't take a bit of heat?”

Wars gives you his best smile, holding up his left hand that you knew had the large scar underneath. “Oh don't worry doll face, I'm hot enough for this whole mountain.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a playful shove as Wind calls you from across the room. “Come on guys! We found the exit!”

Everyone is quick to follow the young sailor along with Hyrule who lead you to the large exit in the other room. The midday sun stinging your eyes as you all crawl your way out from the depths of Death Mountain. Soot and dirt filled the air still far too warm for comfort. The only true reprieve being that there is no longer any active threat of being caught on fire or tripping into lava.

Layers of clothing were immediately pulled off the moment the opportunity presented itself. Cloaks and armour being the first things to go, followed by tunics, metal jewelry, shirts and any other fire protective clothing that was no longer needed

Bottoms stayed on. A hard and fast rule Time had set after a rather embarrassing incident a few weeks back that only some members of the chain were ever able to laugh about. Pants were exchanged for shorts though for anyone able to do so while most of the group settled for just settling with what they had.

Wars plopped onto a large boulder jutting out from the ground, rolling up the legs of his pants a bit before somewhat neatly storing his stuff inside of his bag. The smell of smoke was a pain to get out of clothes and Warriors groaned at the thought of smelling like a walking campfire for who knows how long. He just hoped that they would be able to do some laundry before the smell spread to his whole bag. Though he supposed if given the opportunity this very moment he probably wouldn't take it. 

He was exhausted, and so was everyone else given the ways half of them were strewn about in various stages of napping which Wars was strongly considering joining in on. So he settled onto the ground, using the rock he had just been perched on as a backrest with arms loosely folded over his chest. He ignored the small rocks that dug into his legs, or how the rock was still a bit too hot against the bare skin of his back. He was just so damn tired that for once none of it seemed to matter. All that mattered was that his eyes were heavy, and his brothers were safe. 

He did a quick scan of the group, mentally reassuring that they were indeed all safe as his eyes really only fell to you. You were a little off on your own and looked just as exhausted as he felt as you peeled off the last layer of your top to expose your bare midsection and a nasty red mark on your shoulder blade.

Oh you little liar. 

With a new wave of energy, Wars shoves his hand into his bag. Rummaging through it till he finds the small canister of ointment and a large bandage before he moves to sit beside you. His fingers brushing your hair over your shoulder to take a better look at the blistering burn.

“Thought you said you were fine.” 

“I am…or at least I was..” you murmur, pouting as you avoided eye contact with him.

Wars couldn’t help but chuckle. It was the same thing Mask used to do when hiding an injury from him during the war. The young hero, now grown ass adult a few feet from him, hated admitting that he needed help which had taught Wars to simply give it rather than trying to convince the kid he needed to simply ask for assistance. 

Wars however, remembered a few seconds too late, that you were not Mask and was now stuck in a rather odd predicament. 

Without thinking, he had reached over, scooped you right off the ground and straight onto his lap. Hands still poised around your hips as his mind began screaming at him the moment he physically felt your bottom press against the now growing strain in his trousers.

Oh no. Ohhhhh shit shit shit don't think about it. DON'T think about it!

Warriors took a deep breath, trying to remain calm while his heart rate skyrocketing. Hands quickly letting go of your hips like the contact had burned him worse than any of the fire monsters they had dealt with today. 

You had gone impossibly rigid, hands placed down on his knees that kept some of your weight off of him. Spine so straight, one poke and it could snap in half.

Oh but you'd love to break her back under the right circumstan-

NO.

No. It would be fine. He was clearly just overthinking it. He was just trying to help you with your injury, nothing more than that. If he could just stay cool then there would be no need to panic.

You awkwardly turned your head to the side so you could see him. “Y-you don't have to-”

“It's fine,” He said with practiced ease. If there was one thing he was good at, it was hiding panic. And as you were already sat on top of him, it was too far to turn back now. “I don't mind.”

You nodded, still looking a bit skeptical but made no attempts to dissuade him. Taking that as a sign that you were indeed okay with him helping, he brushed away the lingering strands of hair and uncapped the bottle of ointment.

You winced at the initial contact, shoulders raised to your ears to try and flee from the coldness of the medicine. He tried again only to get a lessened version of the same reaction. It didn't deter him though, giving you a split moment before he gently rubbed it into your skin. His other hand, having found the curve of your waist, rubbing small circles to try and distract you from the stinging pain.

It didn't take long before your shoulders slowly dropped, the muscles along your spine relaxing enough till even your hands stopped supporting your weight. Letting you rest entirely against him as he applied more of the cream.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep at bay the shiver that raced through him. Thinking of anything else besides the way your hips fit against his or how the goddess blessed curve of your ass pressed into him. And he definitely wasn't thinking about how much he wished he could just grab your hips and-

Oh Hylia he was so incredibly fucked. 

He snatched up the bandage, having enough self control to apply it gently over the injury before practically shoving you off of him. Knees coming straight up to his chest as he prayed to Hylia that you wouldn’t see the large bulge you had just been sitting on. 

“Uhm, thanks. That actually feels a lot better.”

“No problem.”

Neither of you looked at the other as Time called for everyone to start getting up. He watched as you walked off towards Four as he tried to come up with a quick solution to hide the rather obvious bulge. All he could think of was his shirt, so he begrudgingly threw it back on, wearing it loosely instead of tucked in so that it would hopefully cover it. And if anyone asked? It was simply to protect his skin.

_________

Wars sat on one of the tall bar stools in the Inns dining room, picking at the food he had been given though he hadn't taken a bite in probably 10 minutes. His mind too preoccupied with thoughts of you to concentrate on anything else.

He had avoided you like a pack of cuckoos the entire trek back down Death Mountain. Putting as much distance between the two of you as he possibly could until he could 1) calm himself down and 2) stop getting worked up every time he thought about it.

He was still working on that second one.

Adjusting his tunic for what felt like the 20th time that hour he sloshed back his drink, idling tapping on the now empty glass. The cool condensation sliding down to drip onto his fingers. Just like the way he could see the small beads of sweat roll down the length of your back. Wetting the plush soft skin underneath his fingertips despite the harsh environments. The way you fit so perfectly against him and Hylia the way your hips had moved. He wondered what sort of excuses he could come up with to get you on his lap again. Slowly building his way up till he could get you underneath him.

Wars hit his forehead, playing it off as simply trying to keep himself awake. He was still clearly exhausted, but after 2 hours of sleep evading him to replay the events of today in his mind on repeat, he decided to try and see if a snack and warm drink would help clear his head. Unfortunately it only seemed to have the opposite effect. Not only giving him space to freely think about you without the others around, but apparently encouraging it further into what could be happening if he ever decided to stop chickening out and admit his feelings for you. 

Because he did. Not at first, though he has always found you attractive, but over time it was staring him in the face. To the way his stomach would do flips whenever you walked next to him, or how his heart fluttered at the sound of your laugh. And if you dared to smile at him? It was a miracle his heart hasn't stopped working. 

He had fallen and fallen hard and it was infuriating.

He was the Captain, the strategist of the group that were all counting on him to keep it together. He couldn't afford to get distracted. No matter how badly he wanted to feel you against him. Grinding down on him so hard it-

He adjusted his tunic…again.

Its only gonna go away if you STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!

He crossed his arms on the counter in front of him, resting his forehead down with a frustrated groan. Might as well make himself comfortable here right? At the rate he was going it wasn’t like he was going to be getting any actual sleep soon anyway. A tap on his shoulder was followed by a thin hand resting on his bicep. He looked up to see 2 women standing on either side of him. Both had long brown hair though the one on his right with her hand on his arm had a much darker shade that looked almost black in this lighting. And both of them were currently looking him up and down like starving wolfos. 

“Oh honey you are much too cute to look so upset.” 

“Yeah, why so down handsome?”

Even with the odd tingling under his skin from where the woman’s hand was, Wars threw on his best smile for them, leaning back so that his arm slipped out from under her palm.

“No need to worry about me ladies.” He assured them with as much charm as he could muster. It was a poor attempt, one even they could probably see straight through yet it didn't seem to deter them as they both stepped a bit closer. One lightly grabbing his arm while the other dragged a finger down his shoulder.

“Awww, poor guy. We can always help cheer you up.”

“Mhmm I like that idea”

Gulping down the lump forming in his throat that felt too dry, he gently tried to push off their hands. Only for them to latch on to him again.

“T-that won't be necessary I can assure you.” He stammered out, stirring on his seat.

“Oh come on. What better way to get over someone than getting over someone else?” She whispered, tugging in his shirt a bit.

“Or between” The other purred in his ear and War's tried not to cringe at the proximity. He tried to laugh, playing it cool until he could slip away and go hide back in his own room with some of the others.

“Oh hey Ca- uhhh sorry didn't mean to uhh…interrupt?”

Maybe the Vet was right and Hylia did just hate them.

His neck spun so hard it cracked. Eyes wide as he saw you standing only a foot away in your night clothes. The ends of your hair still damp that left small wet patches on your shirt. Your eyes awkwardly shifted between him and the two women he was sandwiched between.

“(Y/n)! Hey, what are you doing down here?”

The two women finally let go of him, allowing him room to quickly beckoning you over. You come do so without hesitation, brushing right past the women who were now glaring at you with disgust.

“Couldnt sleep.” You stated, grabbing the hand that was still on his shoulder and flinging it off of him. “Figured I'd get a glass of milk or some. Why are you up?”

“Great minds think alike it seems.”

You hummed but your attention was still in the 2 women who seemed to need a more direct approach at being told to leave.

“Sorry, but can I help you?” You asked with a bite to your voice.

“Who us? We were just keeping your friend company.” Her tone eerily sweet as she tried to brush his arm again. You latched onto her wrist, shoving it away from him.

“How sweet of you. But it looks to me like you've overstayed your ‘welcome’ a bit. Have a good night.” You waved goodbye at them with a fake smile. Thankfully, they took the hint. Walking away with their eyes rolling and a short scoff.

“You have impeccable timing.”

“And you apparently really are too pretty for your own good.”

You both chuckle, the atmosphere around you lightening

“Can I buy you that drink for saving my ass?”

“*gasp* language Captain!” You tease, “but sure, why not.” You glance around, realizing that the only empty seats were on the other side of the room. 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the drink he had earlier but for the second time that day, Wars brain didn't quite think through his actions. He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you closer till you were between his legs and sat against one of his thighs. Unlike earlier though he made sure to keep enough space between you and him. Just in case.

You had other plans though. You leaned into him, wrapping an arm over his shoulders as you put whispered into his ear.

“Ya know Pretty Boy, if you want me to sit on your lap, all you gotta do is ask.”

Heat spread down to the tips of his shoulders and he gaped like a Hylian trout out of water. “I..I didn't…”

“I don't mind ya know,” the heat of your breath tickling against his skin. “There's a lot of things I'd do if you ask nicely enough.”

He swallowed dry air, that all too familiar stiffness returning beneath his clothes. “Yeah?” He whispered back, trying not to shiver when your hand lightly drummed on his shoulder. “Like what?”

He was playing with fire. Fire he should have dowsed hours ago. Weeks ago the moment he knew he had started catching feelings for you. But if you were the one to burn him he would run straight into the flames. So when you got to your feet, offering your hand to him he took it without question. Letting you lead him straight through the small room and up the stairs that creaked every few steps.

It was a blessing that Time has let you have your own room for the night. And a larger blessing that it only took a minute before you were opening the door and ushering him inside.

He could hear the door shut behind him as he strolled into the room. It was…a room. Bed, dresser, nightstand, everything a typical inn would have and nothing more. Feet planted into the wood floor it almost felt like he was back in training, standing at attention as higher-ups patrolled around to find any sort of flaw. He could feel your eyes on him as the distinct sound of the latch clicked into place.

“Well?” You asked. Fingers ghosting over his elbow as you came around to stand in front of him. “What do you wanna ask me?”

He cleared his throat, a bit nervous. “What can I ask?”

Your fingers left goosebumps on his arms as you ghosted over his forearms. “That all depends on what you want.” You explain, stepping forward till you were only an inch away from him. Wars lifts his hands, tapping his fingers against you as if to rest if he would be burned or not. But you were cool to the touch. A relief to the hot fire inside of him.

“Can I kiss you?”

You breathe out a yes, coming up on the tips of your toes to bring his face closer to yours. He grabs your face with both hands, lips ghosting over yours before kissing you softly.

It was soft, timid really. Not the kind of kiss you would expect from the group's so-called ‘ladies man'. But then again this was Wars and sure he could be flirty but deep down you couldn't recall a time he had ever tried to push for more than was given.

You deepened the kiss, swiping your tongue across his lower lip till he grants you access. He tastes like peppermint with the lingering hue of the alcohol you know he had earlier.  You pull away, kissing a line from his mouth down to his neck.

“You could ask to touch me…or ask me to touch you if you prefer.” 

“Surprise me” You chuckle at the slight trembling in his voice as your hands dipped beneath the edge of his shirt before lifting it up. He takes it off, tossing it aside before he reconnects your lips, hands beginner to roam up and down the curve of your sides. You sigh into his mouth, letting him snag your lip to give it a soft suck that makes you moan softly.

Pulling him towards the bed, you give his chest a soft push so he sits down, eyes looking up at you with a hazed curiousity.

“How about I take care of that little ‘problem’ you've had today hmm?”

His face is a bright red now which is cute as you grab his knees, pushing them open to slot yourself between them. Kneeling down on the floor as your hands rubb up and down his thighs. His breath hitching as he watches you unbuckle his belt, finger poised around the waist.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He shakes his head as you pull down, releasing his cock into the open air. Cheeks flushing as you lick your lips, dipping your head lower and lower till your mouth brushed against the sensitive skin. Wars titled his head back, gripping onto the sheets as your tongue licked him from base to head, swirling around the top before repeating the motions.

“Hah- shit.” He moans when your lips wrap around his head, slowly taking as much of him in your mouth as you can, using your hand the rest of the way till you reach the base. 

Panting up at the ceiling, he leans back on his elbow as a hand comes atop your head that was now bobbing up and down. He stares up at the ceiling, knowing if he looks down at you, sees your beautiful eyes while his cock is in your mouth he'll be finished and goddesses he'd do anything to keep feeling your warmth mouth on him. But as you hollow your cheeks, sucking down harder he couldn't help himself. Fumbled curses leave his mouth as he looks down at you, his hips bucking up on accident that makes him hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck- s-sorry!”

Your eyes drag up to his, humming some sort of response that Wars has no clue the meaning behind. All he knows is he has to let go of your head, hand clenched so hard into the mattress his knuckles are white to keep himself from grabbing your hair and fucking your mouth. 

He breathed out your name. “K-keep doing that and I-i wont last long sweetheart... ”

Hands gently grabbed your face, trying to guide you off but you swatted them away, pinning down his hips with a defiant stare that had him shaking. And when he felt the back of your throat again he came undone. Gasping your name as he came, watching as you happily drank it all down before finally popping off of him with a sly smile, wiping at the corner of your mouth.

Holy Hylia you were going to ruin him.

You opened your mouth for another snarky comment but yelped when Wars yanks you up to him, arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed you. He kicks his bottoms off the rest of the way, lifting your tunic off till it joins his clothes on the floor. His lips leaving yours to suck along your neck that made your knees go weak. Wars bends down, picks you up off the floor to lay you on the bed. Hovering over you as his mouth finds your chest, kissing the space between your breasts that were being massaged by deft fingers. Back arching when he pinches you nipple as they slid down to the top of your leggings.

“May I?”

“Please”

He pulls them down slowly, shimming himself down till he could kiss your navel. Hands spreading your thighs and without any warning his mouth is on your already wet cunt.

“Link~!” 

Gone was the timidness from the first kiss. This man knew exactly what he was doing as he dived in, lips clasped around your clit to suck firmly. Your hand clutched onto his hair, tugging on it with the same force as his sucking as you panted.

“Should of done this hours ago” he murmured against you. The vibration of his voice only increasing the growing heat that seeped out of you that he was quick to lick away. “Goddesses you taste good.”

“Fuuuck! Link please I need you!”

“Eager much?” He teased. “What happened to asking nicely?”

“Fuck you- ha!”

Delivering a harsh suck he pulls himself up, kissing you gently. “Gladly.” You can feel him against your inner thigh, but a thought has you pushing against him, forcing him back till his ass hit the mattress. You crawled onto his lap, hovering just above the head of his dick that still leaked with cum and saliva. You teasingly slid down, letting it slide through your folds as Wars groaned. 

You let your head fall to his shoulder, kissing along till you reached his throat. His arms wrapped around you, tracing up and down your spine as you slowly rocked your hips along his length. 

“Seem a bit tense Cap, why don't you just relax and let me take care of you”

No

“Cant if you're gonna just keep teasing me like this sweetheart.” He said through gritted teeth as you lightly rocked back and forth.

“And you said I was eager~”

You pressed a kiss to the front of his throat, letting your tongue slide all the way up to his jaw. Wars shivered, grabbing onto your waist to try and lift you up. You let him, but stubbornly refused to lower yourself back down.

“Ah ah ah” You tutted into his ear. “Remember what I said? Ask nicely.”

You could feel his eyes roll, fingers digging into your sides as he tried to coax your hips back down. “Fiiiine,” He whined, letting his hands drop to your thighs, rubbing them apologetically.  “Please?”

“Please what?”

“Can I feel you?”

Lips collided with his, capturing his bottom lip as you slowly lowered yourself on to him. The head of his cock prodded at your entrance before you let it slowly slip inside. You both moaned, hiding your face in his shoulder as your walls stretched to his size. You slid further down, going till he was completely buried inside of you.

“Holy Hylia. Youre so fucking tight” He groaned, pressing a few kisses to your temple. You stayed still for a few seconds, nipping at his neck before lifting yourself up and sliding back down, easily slipping into a slow rhythm

It only took a minute before the hero of warriors was a blubber mess beneath you. Moans and whines pouring from his lips as you kept up your pace. His hair a messily tossed around from when you had grabbed it earlier that completed the picture of the perfect hero being reduced down to a puddle by your touch.

You lifted your hips, letting him slide almost all the way out of you before slamming back down on him. Wars threw his head back as a loud moan was ripped from his throat. You smirked against his neck, doing it again and again, picking up your pace with each one.

“Fuck, please don't stop!” He whined, roughly grabbing your hips to help guide you up and down his shaft. You let him, focusing on your pace while sucking on the spot just below his ear. Hands dragging through his hair as you added a slight roll to your hips and you for a moment, you thought you had broken him.

Small tears rolled down his cheeks. His mouth hanging open as he heavily pants for air. 

“Look at you, asking so nicely,” You cooed, watching the way he twitched at another rolled motion of your hips. “Keep making those sounds for me okay?”

He nods, whimpering as you praise him. His hips jerking upwards into you, slamming his cock further inside of you that hits just right.  Your nails digging into his shoulders till the coil inside of you snaps. Liquid covering him and sliding down your thighs that burned as they continued to support your work. 

“Shit Im..I’m…fuck (y/n) please~” He whined, hips jerking upwards again to meet yours. 

“So polite” You teased, slowing down just enough for him to notice. “It's alright, tell me what you want.”

“Can I…? Please~, please I..Im so close”

“Since you asked so nicely” You picked up your pace, going faster than your original speed. Your walls clenched around him perfectly till tears ran down his face, mixing with the sweat that clung to his skin and now very messy hair. He brought his knees up behind you as he squirmed underneath you. You leaned down just enough to give another open mouth kiss to the front of his throat. “Cum for me? I wanna make you feel good.”

That was all he needed to tip over the edge. His body went rigid as you felt his cum squirt inside of you. You slowed your movement, working him through his orgasm until the exhaustion hit and you slumped against him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you both collapsed down into the bed. Keeping each other close as you're lulled into a blissful oblivion.

[systlin]

Picking a Gor book at random: Marauders of Gor!

OH THIS IS THE SHITTY FAKE VIKING KNOCK OFF BOOK

SO. We open with Cow of House Cow, formerly known as Tarl Cabot. He got poisoned at the end of the last book and this paralyzed him. Should have upped the dose and killed him

(Bosk. He took the name Bosk because in book five he got taken slave by a lady who mean dommed him once and it fundamentally rewired his brain chemistry. He spends the rest of the books...all TWENTY SEVEN MORE OF THEM...going by the name Kind Mistress gave her pretty slave.)

ANYWAY. There's some dumb bullshit about a plot by the Kurii to conquer Gor. The Kurii are giant werewolf aliens who eat people, and I think Tarl bottomed for one once but that's a different book. They're the enemy of the Priest Kings.

Tarl then fixes the depression he's sunk into because he is Utterly Useless And Pathetic since his legs don't work. This somehow also fixes his legs? Who the fuck knows. He decides to go investigate. This whole baffling intro takes seventy pages.

Anyway.

This takes him to the north, where we find him in a Not!Catholic church. As in, it is exactly like a catholic church except it's to the PK's and not God. The head priest is the most overblown caricature of a greedy evil priest ever set to paper. Calling him one dimensional would be adding a dimension.

Naturally, the Shitty Terrible Vikings attack and loot the place.

Now, they don't attack at FIRST. Norm, thinking himself terribly clever, rips off a move from a saga written by actual good writers and steals the 'smuggle weapons into a church in a coffin with a viking leader who is totally dead you guys, we pinky promise' scheme. Our co hero with Tarl for the book, Ivar Forkbeard, is naturally not dead.

Ivar and his crew promptly loot the place, and also take slave all the pretty women they can find. Tarl, of course, impresses Ivar with his immense fighting ability (dodges a thrown spear) and Ivar decides to take him along with his crew, because Tarl has the thickest plot armor ever seen. They burn the church down and fuck off with their loot. We find out here that the Shit Vikings still follow their gods. Odin and Thor are the only two mentioned. They use a salute that would be very familiar to anyone who has watched WW2 documentaries or, more recently, Elon Musk.

On the longship, we learn a few things. One, that John Norman doesn't know shit about longships, because he gives them rigged sails. Two, that the shitty vikings eat snails raw out of the bilges, which seems like it would give you ten different diseases. Three, that they break slaves by tying them to the oars and dunking them into the north sea repeatedly for several hours, in a move that would totally not kill someone.

At Ivar's holdings, we see more slaves, and the new slaves are branded. Norm spends an immense amount of time and loving detail on this. Tarl is still having a great time. He happily feasts and drinks and rapes...his words, not mine...slaves left and right.

At one point, to discipline a woman, Ivar has her tied naked to a block of ice. For hours. This somehow doesn't kill her, and yet we are told women are weak.

They capture the daughter of a Jarl and enslave her, because she told Ivar to fuck off once and Norm is convinced that this means a woman is burning with a secret passion to literally lick a man's feet. Seriously. There's so much foot licking. In every book. It's in every book. Naturally she falls in love with Ivar and becomes his happy slave. This takes hundreds of pages and it's all horrible. All the poor women get names like Honey Cake, Pudding, ect.

Tarl and his new bestie and their slaves go to what is clearly an Althing, except worse. Ivar is an outlaw, see, and he wants to shove his dick in people's faces that he raised enough money to pay his fine but isn't gonna pay it anyway, because Real Men Don't Do Shit Like Participate Constructively In Society. Norm is INTENSELY culturally WASP, even though he claims to be an atheist. The whole rugged individualism he admires more than anything oozes like slime off most of these books. No, Ivar is clearly supposed to be someone we should aspire to be like, As Men, and Tarl has a huge crush on him I'm pretty sure. And he's a total piece of rat shit.

Ivar and Tarl win a bunch of contests because of course they do, and we see Free Women being unpleasant as Norm writes all free women. Namely, not taking any shit and talking back to men, which Norm calls 'haughty arrogance'. Ivar shows he has the cash to pay his fine, but refuses to. This amuses everyone enough though that they lift his sentence rather than just chucking him off a cliff for some reason.

The head of the Kurii on Gor comes to treat with the jarls. They all decide clearly this is a trick, because of course it is it's not subtle. The Kurii say that they have an army and will take Shitty Viking Land and also the south of Gor. The Shitty Vikings are like fuckit let's fight.

They do. It's somehow boring, in a way that vikings fighting space werewolves should actually find impossible to be. The vikings win by stampeding a herd of cattle over the space werewolves and also maybe some 800 year old legendary figure shows up?

Tarl, having reassured himself that he is a True Man, heads back to Port Kar.

The end.

[taeaura]

Thomas Hewitt x Plus Size Reader

this was requested, but also something I often thinking about 🫀

this took so long for me to post omfgggg

TW: Body Image Issues, Hoyt/Monty {how fun}, Implied Physical-Intimacy {though not explicitly said}, Tommy is a sweetheart <3

Tommy loves his sweetheart very very much {obviously}

_____

First of all: He's a big guy himself, so I doubt he'd mind {if not prefer} a bigger partner. The majority of the women in his life are plus/midsized {his momma, tea lady.} Essentially, the women with the most maternal influence {in his life} are plus/midsize :)

No one in the family would mind - Contrary to popular belief, I don't think Hoyt or Monty would say anything {hateful}; Considering their sister{s} have some more weight to them.

Now, that doesn't mean they won't comment other things..

One benefit{?} about your size {in the way the family views it}, they don't view you as 'frail', physically. That means more work, less physical restrictions. This also means Thomas is willing to get a bit rough with you {in many ways}.

He doesn't care how heavy you are, he's gonna carry you at least once. He'll help you up {if you need it}, carry you places, carry your things, anything that can show off his strength, really.

He doesn't want you to lose weight for image-related purposes. If you want to lose weight for health purposes, he's fully supportive of that {he wants you to bet as healthy as you can}. He finds your body to be empyrean - Something delicate that should be preserved, protected. If you did end up losing weight {or discussing it} for image purposes, he'd start becoming a bit self-conscious; What if you want him to lose weight too? Does he need to lose weight?

{He'd also affirm that you never need to alter your appearance, only your health.}

--

{If you're fem-presenting, or happen to wear dresses} Thomas likes seeing you in sundresses, especially ones that accentuate your figure ;) Luda Mae would love this aspect too - She'll bring out dresses from her younger days and have you try them on {she's just trying to bond with you, it reminds her of her youth}. If you like jewelry, she'll bring some of that out, too.

--

Being with someone of similar stature, Thomas would feel more comfortable with himself compared to being with someone skinnier. He knows that being bigger comes with ridicule and societal pressure, especially with clothing and presentation {which he too, struggles with}. This similarly almost provides a subconscious understanding between the two of you - In turn, decreasing his anxieties over his looks {around you}.

Although, he won't automatically show his face to you - Or anyone, for that matter.

--

He'd do this with his partner regardless, but during moments where he's {surprisingly} sappy, he likes to give you gentle, scattered kisses along your face and body - It's his way of showing that he loves you🫀

Expect plenty of nibbles and cuddling to go with it {he's gonna pass out cold on top of you...}

Thomas also likes holding you whenever you both feel comfortable. Even if it's just holding your waist from behind whilst your doing something - Or becoming your bra {he doesn't give a shit if you have breasts or not, he's doing it anyway}

He's seen plenty of bodies, but none of them captivate him quite like yours. He likes soft bodies, ones where he can trace the stretch marks with his finger - Though, he likes tracing bones on thinner bodies as well. Thomas has a loft of stretch marks, most he got during his adolescence - He doesn't mind them much, and seeing yours makes him mind them less. Even if yours aren't too visible, he likes the textural difference against his hands.

--

Overall, Thomas loves having a mid/plus sized S/O. I wouldn't necessarily say he prefers it, but he does like your figure {I headcanon Thomas as someone who likes harmony amongst features over individual features themselves - But he does really really like eyes}. Thomas focuses on personality most !! He likes not having to worry about you as much, but he's fully willing to worry.

To all my {fellow} plus/mid sized creatures, you're empyrean 🫀

Please give him hugs n kisses - He needs 'em

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 71 ~ Spaghetti Tuesdays

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Word Count : 7.9k

In this chapter ~ Things begin to turn up after a small, intimate moment is shared between Daryl and Rose; a much needed one at that. And after making a few new friends over a shared meal, the night only grew more blissful as the two finally adjust to the idea of building a life in Alexandria. Together.

As much as I wanted to be home, safe, and asleep, I had to get these fucking shoes off my feet. I didn't make it very far front the front door before I sat down on the porch steps and slowly pulled the heels off, but not without muttering an "ow" a few times with each foot. Though it was worth it in the end as soon as they were off, opting to sit there for a moment to collect myself, sighing quietly as I ran a hand through my hair.

The windows behind me were open just a crack, allowing the music from inside to drift out of the small space, along with the chatter that never seemed to die down. I almost felt guilty for leaving so fast, not saying goodbye to anyone as I was in too much of a rush. Although a part of me blamed it on being overwhelmed by the whole thing. Mainly because it was, well...overwhelming. But at least I could say that I tried. I tried, I hated it, I left. At the end of the day, I had to do what was best for me.

The sound of gravel crunching and footsteps approaching caused me to glance up, only to see none other than Daryl Dixon hesitantly walking down the street towards Deanna's, playing with something in his hands that I couldn't quite see from where I was.

I smirked, "Hey, handsome."

His head snapped up at the sound of my voice, a smile breaking out onto his face when he saw me sitting on the steps, "Hey."

I noticed his pace picked up the smallest bit as he now approached the house, though stopped dead in his tracks when he finally noticed what I was wearing. His eye began to trail down my body, causing me to smile sheepishly as I fought against the fluttery feeling in my stomach upon his gaze.

But he didn't stop there, as the next thing I heard was a long, loud wolf whistle coming from him while he slowly approached me once again, "Stop it." I laughed.

He grinned widely as he finally came to stand in front of me, "Come on now, gimmie a spin." he gestured, helping me up to my feet.

I couldn't help but smile as he raised one of my arms above my head, helping me twirl around to show him the entire outfit while he continued to scan me head to toe. I heard his small hum in approval and I turned fully to face him again, a faint redness dusting the apples of his cheeks.

"Ain't you a dime, sweet girl." he complimented.

"Thank you." I muttered a bit shyly.

I felt him give my hand a small squeeze, "What're ya doin out here by yerself?"

"Well," I sighed, "I was having a terrible time, so I figured I'd escape while I had the chance." I spoke dramatically before stepping back to take a seat on the porch, patting the space next to me as an invitation.

He chuckled at my reasoning, lowering himself down beside me with a huff, "That mean I don't gotta go in there?" he asked, trying to hide the hopefulness in his voice.

I rolled my eyes playfully, "Yeah, you got out of it...you lucky bastard."

A hum of amusement left him before he revealed his other hand out from behind his back for me to see. In his grasp was a single yellow dandelion he had picked and brought all the way back from the woods it seemed like. The stem was a bit smushed and the head itself looked a little sad, yet I couldn't help but smile at the simple gesture.

"Couldn't find any real flowers, so I settled for this one." he said, "Figured I'd bring ya some kinda peace offerin for being so late."

I twirled it in between my fingers before lifting it up and placing it behind my ear, "For me?"

"Yeah, baby. Just for you." he confirmed.

I leaned forward to steal a quick kiss from him, the action alone expressing how sweet I found it to be. "Thanks, love. So, how did the hunt go anyway?"

"Not exactly how I planned," he sighed, "Aaron followed me out there before I could get too far."

My eyes widened, "What?"

"Said he was lookin for some horse he wanted ta track down and bring back here, asked me to help him. And we found it, but kept scarin it off every time we got too close. Eventually the thing took off into a field with too many walkers, and they..." he trailed off with a gesture of his hand.

I sighed, "Damn."

He huffed lightly, "Yeah...damn is right."

I leaned in to rest my head against his shoulder, gently taking his hand again, "I'm sorry, hon. That sucks."

He shrugged, "Nah, it's alright. My guess is ya didn't have the best night either."

"Yeah, you can say that again," I scoffed, "But...you'll be happy to hear I drenched some asshole in beer."

"No way, I missed that?" he said with a shocked grin, "Who?"

"Deanna's son, Spencer. Picture this," I gestured with my hand, "I'm minding my own business in the kitchen and suddenly he comes in and strikes up a conversation."

"No." he said in faux disbelief.

"Oh, yes." I continued, "He starts the most boring small talk you can imagine, asking if I'm having fun, and how we're settling. But then it took a turn when he started to obviously hit on me, the whole charming guy bullshit that almost made me puke. And even after telling him I was married, he still kept pushing it. So, I eventually I dumped my beer on his head, insulted him, and now here I am."

By the time I was done talking, all of the amusement had suddenly left his eyes, and I was now left with looking at a man who was clearly about to burst into flames. Shit. Maybe I didn't fully think this through.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, shifting a bit to look away from him, "I also accepted the job from Deanna...I start tomorrow I think." I said quietly, trying to change to subject.

"He didn't leave ya alone?" he asked a bit sharply.

I sighed, "Love, I took care of it. Did you not hear the part where I humiliated him in front of everyone? I think it's safe to say he got the message."

"Nah, I heard it loud and clear." he said, his tone grumbling, "M' just thinkin I should go in there and have a word with him."

"Hm, and what exactly would you say in this delightful conversation?"

"Wouldn't do a whole lotta talkin." he muttered bitterly.

I laughed a little, "Daryl...it's okay."

He still looked a little uneasy, "Ya sure? Cause I can go in there right now and knock some sense into him."

I placed my hand on the side of his face, getting him to actually look me in the eye, "I'm sure. But hey, if it ever happens again, you're the first person I'll call to kick his ass. Okay?"

He smirked a little, "Alright..."

My knuckles gently ran across his cheek, feeling the slight prickle of his beard as I brought him in for another kiss, feeling his hand slip around me to squeeze my hip. He pecked my lips a few more times before pulling back to look at me, seeing his clear shift in emotion as he took in every inch of my face, his smile returning.

"Well, what do you think? You ready to get out of here?" I asked softly.

He nodded with a small hum, gently patting the small of my back as we stood up to walk down the steps hand in hand, my shoes dangling from the other. Though we didn't make it very far before he tugged me to a stop, clearly noticing I was barefoot.

"Why didn't ya put yer shoes on?"

A quiet groan left my lips, "Because high heels want to murder your feet, it's just science." I insisted, gesturing down to them. The back of my heels alone were killing me.

He huffed lightly, "Well, ya ain't walkin home barefoot. Ya could step on somethin sharp."

"But...they hurt."

He looked down at me for a moment in contemplation before sighing softly, letting go of my hand to stand in front of me instead. He lowered his arms and bent down into a squat, leaving me eyeing him in confusion as I tried my best not to laugh.

"What're you doing?" I asked, amused at my view.

"Hop on." he said simply, wiggling his fingers for emphasis.

My eyebrows raised in surprise, "A piggyback ride?"

"Yeah, why not?"

This time I did laugh, finding the situation much more humorous than he probably did. But I partially blamed it on the number of drinks I had tonight. I adjusted the shoes in my grasp before attempting to steady my hands on his shoulders, jumping up on his back to which he easily caught me with a grunt.

I felt him shift slightly to get a better grip on my legs so I wouldn't fall, turning his head to look at me, "Ya good?"

"Yep." I nodded, "Giddyap."

He scoffed in amusement, his hand smacking my thigh playfully before he began to walk, carrying me back toward the house.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, the heels dangling from my fingertips as I rested my chin on his shoulder, practically hugging him from behind as I savored the closeness. It wasn't like I was deprived by any means, but it was safe to say I had missed him. And after a long day like this one, he was the one person that somehow made it all go away within seconds. My comfort.

Gazing around at the houses that were lined up the street, I noticed how almost all of them were completely empty with the lights off, most likely still at Deanna's gathering. Hell, nearly the entire community showed up tonight to meet us properly, yet it still managed to surprise me how much an event like that mattered around here. Though they also might've gone for the drinks, and I couldn't say I blamed them for that. Leaving everything around was practically dead.

But there was a certain house in particular that seemed to quickly catch my attention as we were heading its direction. The lights were off just like all the rest, but a small radio was sitting just in the window, playing some kind of soft and melodic song. It was beautiful to say the least, the quiet sound only growing louder as he walked toward it, my legs instinctively swinging gently to the beat. Daryl seemed to notice almost immediately how I was drawn to the tune, his head turning again to get a look at my face. But he surprised me slightly when I felt him slow to a stop in the middle of the street.

My brows furrowed a little as I snapped out of my trance, inching a bit closer to see his expression, "What's wrong?"

He looked back at me with a somewhat anxious glint in his eye, "Yer feet still hurt pretty bad?"

"Only when I'm wearing the shoes. Why?"

He nodded slowly before loosening his grip on me so I would slide off his back. I landed gently on my feet, growing even more confused to what he was doing as he did a quick scan of the pavement to make sure there was nothing harmful that I could step on.

I tilted my head, "Daryl...?"

He wordlessly turned back toward me, his brows furrowed with a hint of nerves, before taking the shoes from my grasp and tossing them aside on the grass to the left of us. My eyes followed to see where they had landed, glancing back at him with a completely lost look, hearing him chuckle at my obvious skepticism.

His hand then extended itself toward me, "Wanna dance?" he asked softly.

My eyes widened a little, my face breaking out in a smile, "I thought you said it was pushing it if I asked you to dance."

"Well...m' askin you ta dance. Loophole." he shrugged.

I narrowed my eyes at him playfully, slowly taking his outstretched hand to silently answer his question. He smiled at my acceptance, kissing my knuckles lightly before holding our intertwined hands outward, his other coming up to grasp my waist. I followed his lead as I raised my free hand to his shoulder, and together we started to sway to the gentle music that followed. He was looking down at me with such admiration it made my heart flutter, giving my waist a small squeeze while he attempted to guide me.

Every now and then he would glance down quickly at our feet, making sure he wasn't about to step on me like he did the last time, but in all honesty, his movements were great. He looked more sure of himself, more confident with dancing than he did with asking me. As if I would ever say no.

I then felt his hand leave my waist while he lifted our hands up to get me to spin around, my dress lightly flowing around me before we came back together. As close as we could possibly get. His head came down to rest his forehead against mine, our eyes closed in content, soaking up this moment as much as I possibly could. The closeness bringing me a certain peace. I squeezed his hand lightly and a small smile stayed on my lips while he slowly spun us in a little circle, remembering what I had briefly taught him from last time.

The music was perfect, the atmosphere was perfect, and he was perfect. I couldn't have asked for a better way to end the seemingly endless evening. And I think it was safe to say he agreed.

As the piano started to die down, our shared movements slowed, feeling him lift his head from mine ever so slightly to press a lingering kiss on my skin. I ravished in the moment for as long as I could, savoring every last second as if I couldn't get enough, the memory this would turn into would always be special to me now. Proof that there could still be love in a world so unforgiving.

My eyes fluttered open when I felt him pull back, a goofy grin on his face as he gazed down at me. "Have you been practicing?"

He scoffed, "Nah. Guess it just comes naturally."

"Yeah, well either way...it was great. Thanks for dancing with me, honey."

"Course." he said genuinely, pulling me in to leave another kiss on my temple, "Ya happy?"

I nodded slowly, "You always make me happy." I stated, and I meant it. He always found a way to make me smile even if I felt there was nothing to smile about, constantly jumping through hoops to uplift my mood in any way he could. Tonight was truly the best example of that.

"Good," he hummed before turning back around, "Alright, hop back on, woman."

I obliged and stepped up to place my hands on his shoulders again to climb onto his back once more. He carried me effortlessly away from the house we were once stopped in front of, purposely leaning a little back and forth so I felt like I was about to fall. I clung onto him tighter which is probably exactly what he wanted, smacking his chest lightly in attempts to get him to stop, our laughs echoing around the silent streets like a couple of fools. But I didn't really care how ridiculous we potentially looked. I hadn't felt this carefree in a very long time, and seeing him like that as well made me feel even more content.

Though right as we were approaching the familiar block. I suddenly remembered something. The fucking shoes.

"Wait, my heels." I mumbled with a defeated sigh.

At this point we were already almost back, seeing the house in the distance which only caused him to look back at me in disbelief. "Are ya ever gonna wear the damn things again?"

"Hell no." I said immediately.

"Then fuck 'em." he insisted before moving forward once again.

I let out a breath of air as I leaned my head against his, "Yeah, alright. I just hope I make whoever lives there very happy with their brand-new fancy shoes." I joked.

He chuckled, "Ya sure are generous."

I wordlessly rolled my eyes at his sarcasm, tightening my grip around him as he walked. But then we both seemed to freeze.

"Hey, guys!" came a voice to our right, both of us looking over with semi-wide eyes to see Aaron standing on his porch, waving toward us with a large smile.

I waved back awkwardly while Daryl just gave him a nod, both of us now realizing just how uncomfortable this interaction was with the position we were in.

"You guys coming back from the party?" he asked.

"Yeah. It sucked." I said bluntly.

He laughed a little with a shake of his head, "Well, then I'm glad I steered clear from that." he spoke in amusement, pausing momentarily as his eyes lingered on us. "Why don't you two come in, have some dinner?"

My first instinct was to decline as politely as I could, wanting nothing more than to just get home and go to sleep. But I would be blatantly lying if I said some food didn't sound nice. I glanced down to Daryl to silently ask what he wanted, watching him only shrug in response.

When neither of us responded, he insisted, "Come on, it'll be fun. It's some pretty serious spaghetti." he said before turning around and making his way inside.

The two of us watched him disappear behind the door, leaving it open a crack like he silently knew we would follow. We glanced back at each other again, sharing a certain look. Surely it would be rude to turn down free food.

The room was almost completely silent as the four of us ate in the dimly lit dining room, the only sound that filled the space were the forks lightly scraping on the plate and the clinking of the glasses. No one really knew how to start the conversation, especially since Daryl's slurping of the spaghetti was all the filler noise we needed for it to not be uncomfortable.

I took my time twirling the noodles around my fork, occasionally glancing at my husband to my left with amused eyes as the noodles continued to slap him in the face with every bite. My gaze eventually looked up to the other two men across from me and caught them as they shared a look all while trying to hold in their laughs, before their eyes panned toward me to which I only gave a knowing smile.

When Daryl finally took a breather to look up, our eyes were already on him, causing his cheeks to redden with slight embarrassment at all the sudden attention.

I glanced back to Aaron and Eric, "Don't worry, I keep him in a leash." I joked.

Daryl scoffed from beside me and nudged my side, while the other couple shared a laugh, getting some of the awkwardness out of the way. Thank God.

I tapped my fork anxiously, "Thank you so much for dinner, it's really great."

Daryl grunted in agreement from beside me, "Yeah, thanks." he muttered, wiping the remaining sauce that was on his face with the back of his sleeve.

"And I'm sorry again for not...having any shoes, I seemed to have misplaced them." I glanced at Daryl knowingly, hearing him snort.

"Oh, of course, and for the last time don't worry about it." Eric reassured with a wave of his hand, "You can borrow some sandals for the walk home if you'd like?"

I nodded, "That would be great, thank you."

He nodded back at me, another brief silence passing as we all continued to eat before Aaron was the one to speak, "So," he started, cleaning his face with a napkin, "How long have the two of you been together?"

"Oh, uh...about two years." I answered.

He raised his eyebrows, "Wow, I would've guessed longer, you just seem so...in sync. You guys met in this?"

"Yeah...it's been quite the experience." I confirmed, a part of my mind drifting to how life would've been if we had met before the world went to hell. How different it would be.

"Oh, I bet." Eric replied, as if he was speaking from experience.

Aaron hummed, "And you guys are married right? How long has that been?"

"Six months." Daryl said almost immediately.

My head turned to him in slight surprise at how fast he responded, but he on the other had seemed the least bit phased as he shoveled another bite in his mouth, subtly reaching out to squeeze my leg under the table. It warmed my heart that not only he knew for a fact how long we had been married, but said it as if the answer was constantly on his mind.

I looked back up at the two to see they had the softest smiles on their faces as they looked at us, Eric even placing a hand over his heart in awe. I smiled meekly at them, feeling myself get a bit flustered which caused me to take a drink of the red wine they offered in attempts to hide my embarrassment.

I cleared my throat, "I feel like you guys are my only voice of reason for this place, since you're the ones who brought us here." I huffed softly, "So, how long have you lived in Alexandria?"

Eric tilted his head, "Well, I think it's been about a year, wouldn't you say?" he asked Aaron who nodded in response, "We got here around the same time...and I guess it was only a matter of time before we got together ourselves."

"That's sweet." I smiled, watching them intertwine their hands. A part of me asked because I was curious. But another part of me wanted to be reassured that I could settle here just like everyone else.

Aaron looked at me for a beat longer than necessary, "You're still weary?" he assumed.

I shared a look with Daryl before shaking my head assuredly, "No...just curious, I guess."

He smiled a little, "I've actually been meaning to ask if you've accepted that job from Deanna yet? I know she's probably bugging you for some kind of answer."

"Yeah," I nodded, "I actually told her tonight that I was going to take it."

"Oh, that's great." he said genuinely, "Hopefully the job fits you perfectly."

"Fingers crossed." I muttered as I picked my fork back up, picking at the food to take another small bite. I felt Daryl squeeze my leg lightly in reassurance, knowing just how uneasy I was about the whole thing in the first place. I was nervous, but I was just glad I had his support through it.

"Mm," Eric hummed like he suddenly remembered something, "Speaking of. When you're out there, if you happen to be in a store or something, Mrs. Neudermyer is really looking for a pasta maker. And we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it." he directed toward Daryl, "I mean we have crates of dry pasta in here, but she wants to make her own or something."

I looked back towards him to see if he knew what the man was talking about, but he seemed to have the same blank expression as I did, swallowing the wine quickly to try and catch up with what Eric was saying.

"If you see one on your travels, it would go a long way to..." he suddenly trailed off, seeing the look on Aaron's face. There was just silence once again, and clearly we were the only ones in the dark about what was going on.

Suddenly Eric felt quite embarrassed as he stared back down at his plate, "I thought it was done...you didn't ask him already?"

"Ask me what?" Daryl voiced.

Aaron smiled a little before getting up from his seat, "Follow me."

He headed off towards the garage and Daryl was hesitant to push out his chair and trail behind, but he did nonetheless. Though not without looking back at me about five different times to see if I would follow him out there so he wouldn't be alone. I swear he was acting like a child having to go to their first day of school. Shaking my head, I silently waved him on, watching him sigh heavily once he realized he was on his own for this.

Once Eric heard the door squeak shut, knowing the two men were gone, he looked back towards me with a bright smile, "Well, you two are adorable, are you kidding?"

I just laughed, "Thank you. I could say the same about you two."

"Oh, stop." he waved me off, "I can't believe how much that man melts when he's around you. It's precious."

"So I've been told." I agreed with a small nod. "So, what did you do before all of this?" I found myself asking.

He wiped his mouth quickly with a hum, "Well, I was in between jobs, but technically the last one I had was a receptionist at an office company that sold paper." he deadpanned. My face scrunched up just as much as his was as he let out a chuckle, "Thrilling I know." he said sarcastically, "But what about you?"

"I was an undercover cop."

His eyes widened, "Oh, really? Well, no wonder they want you to be our constable, you'll kill it out there."

I shrugged, "I hope so."

"Well, have a little faith." he joked.

I laughed softly, "I just mean...I haven't been a cop in two years and all of a sudden, I'm jumping back into it at full force. It's going to be weird at first, but hopefully I'll get used to it."

"You will." he reassured, "If Deanna believes you're a good fit for the job, then you're a good fit for the job."

"That easy, huh?" I asked with a raised brow.

He simply nodded his head as if he knew best, before going back to finishing the food that remained in front of him. And for some reason, even after barely knowing the man, I somewhat trusted his judgement as he seemed confident in his words. Maybe everything would be alright.

Ignoring Eric's protests, I ended up cleaning everyone's plates from the table and taking them to the kitchen, helping the man out considering he still couldn't move around too well with his ankle. I rinsed the dishes off a bit before filling up one side of the sink with warm, soapy water, letting them soak for the time being. I was even tempted to help put away the leftovers they had still sitting on the stove, but I knew he'd just yell at me for that too, so I decided to take the highroad.

Drying my hands off with a nearby towel, I stepped out of the kitchen right as Aaron and Daryl came back from the garage. I smiled briefly at them, watching Daryl shift uncomfortably as he clearly didn't want to overstay his welcome.

"M' gonna take a piss, then ya ready to go?" he asked.

I scoffed lightly at his bluntness before nodding, "Yeah, sure."

He dipped his head before heading down the hall to find the bathroom, while I trailed back toward the dining area where Aaron was now hovering, cleaning up the wine glasses.

"Oh, I can do that." I offered.

He shot me a look, "You're our guest, you shouldn't be taking any dishes."

"I tried to tell her." Eric said with raised hands, "She's stubborn."

"I could've told you that." Aaron added teasingly.

"Hey," I said in faux offense, "I'm standing right here."

They both laughed lightly at my comment before Aaron followed me back into the kitchen, setting the glasses in the sink while I folded the towel back onto the counter neatly. "I'll let Daryl be the one to tell you the news, all good things I swear."

I nodded slowly, "Okay."

"Oh...but can I ask you something really quick?" he asked, lowering his voice a little, "He said something to me about bringing me some rabbits...is that a good thing? Or...?" he trailed off.

My eyes widened a little, "Oh, he likes you."

"Really?" he asked somewhat shocked.

"Yeah, you think he offers to get rabbits just for anybody? Whatever you said, you definitely won him over."

He nodded with a content smile, "Alright, well...good."

Before we could say anything else, Daryl emerged from the hall from which he disappeared, nodding back toward the front door as he locked eyes with me, "Ya ready?"

"Mhm." I nodded, following him out while Aaron trailed behind us to see us out.

We said our many thank you's and goodbyes to show our gratitude for dinner before we both left the house side by side, Daryl chewing on his lip nervously all the while. He looked a little unsure and I silently knew he wouldn't tell me anything until I asked. Simply because he was lost in his own little world, thinking about anything and everything that went on in that conversation I could only assume. Sometimes he just needed a little push.

"Well, are you gonna tell me about it or what?" I asked, nudging his elbow lightly.

He glanced over at me and tried to give me the best smile that he could muster, but I could tell he was nervous for a reason that was unknown to me. Aaron assured me that it wasn't anything bad and seemed almost excited about whatever the news could be, though Daryl's expression said otherwise.

"He brought me into the garage ta show me this old bike he found a while back, said I could have it. Tune it up, take it out whenever I want." he mumbled.

A few beats of silence passed which caused me to assume that was all, "Well...that's great. I mean you haven't ridden one in so long, and honestly I'm starting to miss it too."

He shook his head, "That ain't it. He said he wants me to go out with him to bring new people in. Said he wasn't comfortable doin it with Eric anymore, thinks I'll be good for it. I dunno why he offered it to me in the first place, but...the job's mine if I want it." he blurted out seemingly all at once.

"Okay..." I nodded slowly, still not seeing the problem.

He cleared his throat, "Well, what do you think?"

I blinked, "What do you mean, what do I think?"

"M' askin what ya think bout the job."

I shook my head with a smile, "Honey, it doesn't matter what I think, you're the one who's going to have to do it."

He shrugged, "Just...want yer opinion."

"Well...I think it would be good for you, getting outside these walls more often instead of being stuck here all the time. It's a nice chance to get to know Aaron, make a new friend." I paused for a moment, "But I think the most important thing is that it makes you happy, and it's something you actually want to do."

He stopped walking then, gently taking my hand in his to turn me to face him, "So, ya wouldn't be mad if I took it?"

My eyes widened, quickly shaking my head, "No, no. Why would I ever be mad?"

"Cause I ain't gonna see ya as often...I'll be gone for who knows how long while yer here just waitin on me to get back."

I tilted my head a little, "Yeah, I know...but that's okay. I mean you won't be gone all the time, you'll come back for a little then leave for a little, we'll get a good routine down. But I think it's a good opportunity to get out there; do something you'll actually like. I want that for you."

Relief was brought back to his expression as he lifted my hand up to his mouth to place a gentle kiss there, "Yeah, I want that too. Which is why...I told him I'd do it."

I smiled happily at him before wrapping my arms around his waist in a tight hug, burying my face in his chest. I will admit, this whole thing will probably take some getting used to, but I didn't mind one bit as long as he was doing that brought him some kind of joy. And at the end of the day, this seemed perfect for him.

"I'm very proud of you." I admitted quietly.

He hummed, "Could say the same thing bout you, officer." he said, his tone turning a bit teasing.

I rolled my eyes, "Quit."

But he only chuckled softly, running his hands across my back while leaning down to kiss my cheek a few times until my faux annoyance disappeared.

As we finally made it back, it surprised me to see that both of the houses they gave us were still empty, signaling that no one had made it back yet as there wasn't a single light on through the windows. Apparently, they were far more polite than us when it came to staying at the event. Though as I began to turn and walk up the steps, I noticed that Daryl's arm fell from my waist as instead he began walking away from me. My brows furrowed, watching him cross the street.

A small smirk grew on my face, seeing him move further and further away without looking back once, "You forget which one is ours already?" I joked.

Finally, he glanced over his shoulder. "Oh..." he muttered, "I thought when we agreed ta head to the house, ya meant our house."

"I did." I said, jutting my thumb back toward the structure behind me, "This is the house."

He shook his head, "Nah, it's not. According ta Aaron, that one over there is ours."

I squinted my eyes, panning back and forth between the small home and him a few times before finally confessing, "I'm lost."

A small chuckle escaped him while he slowly walked back over to where I was rooted in place, "I really gotta spell it out for ya?"

"Hey, easy. I've had a few drinks tonight, be nice."

"Yeah, alright." he smiled, "Well, I talked ta Aaron bout settin up a little surprise for ya. And that surprise just so happens to be...our house." he said, taking my hand to place something small in my palm.

I glanced down to see it was a set of keys, the dots immediately connecting in my head the moment I realized it was real. My eyes widened as I looked back up to him, pointing toward the house once more. "That's our house?" I asked, "Like...our house?"

He nodded with a growing smile, clearly feeling quite proud of himself, "Wanna go check it out?"

"Uh, yeah." I spoke as if it were obvious, practically dragging him along across the pavement as I couldn't have been more excited.

The outside was painted white with a plethora of flowers planted on either side of the steps, the multitude of colors really bringing the place to life. And on top of that it had a porch swing. He really outdid himself with that one.

I couldn't seem to get through the gate fast enough to make it up toward the door, anxiously anticipating what was inside. "You wanna do the honors?" I asked as I briefly looked over my shoulder at him.

"Nah, you got it baby." he reassured.

I smiled brightly before turning back around to unlock the handle, the keys jingling quietly as I did so, pushing the wooden door open to reveal the inside. And just by the very first look, I could already tell I loved it.

The layout was very simple, a staircase on the left and the living area on the right, the large glass doors being a nice added touch to open and close the entrance to the room whenever we wanted. My eyes darted around everything as I stepped inside, Daryl flicking the light on from behind me to bring the room a nice orange glow. I took note of all the beautiful decor as I slowly made my way down the hall, seeing it opened up into a kitchen with a small dining table and chairs just off to the side.

Everything blended together utterly flawless, reminding me just how much we needed normality. How much we deserved it. And I couldn't have conjured up a more perfect image of the home Daryl and I would settle into. The home that was now ours.

And it only got better once we ventured upstairs. There was a small guest bathroom and an extra bedroom, a place where maybe Carl could crash every now and then to get away from his crazy dad. And then the master bedroom just down the hall, it almost took my breath away.

The bed was huge, sitting in the middle of the room along with two large bookshelves aligning the walls to accompany the large windows. I was absolutely over the moon at the amount of books I had to read now, ones that were mine to keep and pick through whenever I wanted. The two extra doors led to the walk-in closet, and the master bathroom that was especially shiny. It had a tub, two sinks, and a shower with a glass door. The really fancy ones that I only used to see in movies that almost everyone was insanely jealous of.

With a breath, I slowly turned back around to face him, walking over to the middle of the bedroom and seeing the little grin he had on his face. "Ya like it?"

"Like it?" I questioned in disbelief, "My mouth hasn't closed since the second I walked in here." I said sarcastically, looking around the bedroom once more to take it all in.

He chuckled at my comment before I felt his arms wrap around my middle, resting his chin on my shoulder, "I'll take that as a good thing." he murmured.

"It's a very good thing," I confirmed, running my hands along his forearms, "I can't believe it's ours."

"Mhm." he hummed, his lips pressing against the skin on my neck. The same spot that made me shiver.

A slow smile was brought to my face the more I thought about not having to be quiet anymore, no one else being around to hear us in the privacy of our own home. Not only now, but for however many years to come. We had our own space to do pretty much whatever we wanted for the first time in two years, and boy was I planning on taking advantage of that.

I slowly turned to face the king-sized bed before us, eyeing it as I subtly licked my lips in suspense, "This room is really nice..."

But before he even got a chance to respond, I took his arms from around me and quickly moved him around my frame, lightly pushing him down onto the mattress. A look of surprise crossed his features, before it was replaced with a smirk upon watching me climb on top of him.

"God, it's such a shame we have to ruin it." I finished.

"Such a damn shame." he agreed before grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me down for a heated kiss.

I couldn't help but moan softly as the warmth of his tongue invaded my mouth, swirling around hungrily while his hands pulled me almost flush against him. He gripped my hips tightly, lightly guiding them back and forth against him to create the friction we had been craving, already feeling my stomach flutter with butterflies. My hands began to unbutton his shirt impatiently, needing to feel his rough skin beneath my palms. It was almost like magic with how fast I got to the bottom, causing him to instinctively flip over so he could shrug it off of his broad shoulders, tossing it behind him carelessly.

His mouth came back down to attach onto my neck, sucking and nipping every bit of skin he could reach all while hiking the skirt of my dress up, his hands running down to give my thighs a generous squeeze. I hummed, my chest rising and falling dramatically with every breath that passed through my lips, feeling his hands inching closer to where I needed him most.

"God...I need you." I whispered.

A growl erupted from him at the sound of my plea, not needing to be told twice as his thick fingers curled around my tights and the edge of my panties, pulling them completely off my legs in one go. I sighed shakily as his head dipped down to then leave a trail of open-mouth kisses down my abdomen, his tongue darting out to taste the sweetness of my flesh. He groaned quietly to himself, his back muscles flexing all while he slowly spread my legs apart for him to settle between them.

My hips shifted upward in impatience, whimpering at just the thought of him finally giving me what I needed. Considering how active we were when the prison was still intact, I felt I had been deprived of his mouth for far too long, seeing as he always wanted to spoil me every chance he got. Though he seemed to be enjoying torturing me now. Kissing teasingly along my thighs and forcing my legs to stay in place no matter how much I wanted to squirm.

But even he had his breaking point, one where he couldn't hold out any longer than he already had, pushing himself to the limit just as he was doing to me.

"Fuck, you taste so good." he muttered, his nose brushing against my mound.

A shiver of anticipation rolled through me, before I felt the tip of his tongue lick a slow strip up my slit, causing my muscles to flex and my head to roll back. "Oh...yes." I moaned softly.

He hummed affectionately, the sound alone vibrating through my body, before his mouth fully crashed down against my aching cunt. My eyelids fluttered blissfully, gasping in pleasure while his tongue lapped eagerly against my clit, burying his face into my folds. My hands traveled down to weave through his hair, gently tugging at the roots as if to keep him in place right where he was. A low sound rumbled from him at the feeling of my fingers in his soft locks, his lips sucking at my sensitive flesh. I felt his pace pick up with the growing excitement he seemed to possess, his hips grinding slightly against the bed as he ate me hungrily. Growing hard within merely moments.

His tongue flicked in and out of my entrance, tasting the pure arousal that pooled there, his thumb moving up to gently rub over my clit. That alone elicited a small cry from my mouth, my back arching from off the bed. "Oh my God." I sighed, pulling his hair tighter.

"Mm..." he murmured against my skin, his lips moving away momentarily so he could slowly insert two fingers into my entrance.

The whines and blissful sounds of ecstasy I let out only grew louder when he curled the digits to hit that sweet spot, feeling content in the privacy of our own space. Perhaps I even exaggerated a little just because I could. I wasn't worried about the others, or potentially even walkers hearing us with our minds hazy with lust. I felt I could fully let go.

I could hear his breathing grow more ragged as he solely focused on my pleasure, and I felt my stomach tighten as my orgasm built. But before I could focus on it for too long, he suddenly stopped, causing me to let out a muffled sound of protest feeling his mouth pull away from my core.

He pulled himself up to hover over me, his voice low and gravely with desire, "Open."

I didn't protest one bit at his demand, opening my mouth to stick my tongue out, watching a string of saliva fall from his lips and land directly into my own, swallowing it with a pleased hum. His eyes darkened further, leaning down to capture my lips in a sloppy kiss, his hand coming up into my hair while he gently sucked on my tongue. I giggled quietly at the feel of his mouth desperately clinging to mine, still being able to taste the lingering sweetness of myself.

But it didn't last for long as we were both growing far too impatient to wait any longer, the remains of our clothes shedding off in record speed. His bare skin felt burning hot against mine, the back of my thighs being pressed against his chest while he shifted between them once more, stroking himself a few times. I bit my lip as I watched intently, loving the sight of him like this. The sight that was only reserved for me, like he was baring his soul for my eyes alone. The passion and vulnerability he showed making it all the more precious.

When he caught me staring, he turned his head to press hot kisses against my ankle and up toward the side of my foot that rested against his shoulder, "My pretty angel..." he muttered, "So perfect."

I shuttered as he showered me with praise, feeling his tip push into me while his large hands now gripped onto my legs, slowly inserting himself. My eyes squeezed shut as I let out a choked moan at how good he always felt, so unreal, as if we were truly made for each other. Hearing the low and almost animalistic sounds from him only turned me on more, my hips wiggling ever so slightly as if to coax him to move. And he gladly obliged, easily beginning a steady rhythm as he thrusted in and out of me.

The sound of our skin slapping together and pent-up sinful sounds filled the room, our bodies connecting in the most intimate way. His movements were skilled and purposeful, my wetness almost causing him to slip out and falter with how aroused I was. But I couldn't help it. The vision of him bucking into me at a rapid pace, the hair falling over his hooded eyes as he concentrated, panting heavily and whimpering at the sensations. It only caused the heat in my stomach to grow once more.

"Shit," I cursed breathlessly, "Yes...yes- that feels so good." I moaned, the indication that I was close.

"Mhm." he groaned, his pace picking up to begin roughly pounding into me.

I cried out again as his dick hit that same sensitive spot inside of me, his hip rolling accordingly as if he had it memorized by now. Knowing exactly how I operated, which strings to pull in order to make me feel good. My legs began to tingle like a soft buzzing, my hands gripping the sheets below me while I gasped, feeling my entire body practically turning to jelly from his touch. My flesh was covered in a thin line of sweat as my hips jutted forward to meet his pace, trying to finally feel that release of pure euphoria.

"Come on, baby." I heard him mutter, the deep vibration of his voice ultimately causing me to chase my peak.

I moaned loudly while my body trembled with utter bliss, my orgasm hitting me so hard I could've sworn my vison went black for a moment. I felt his dick tremble inside of me, my walls squeezing him with every sloppy thrust he delivered before I heard him let out a deep grunt, quickly pulling out of me to spill himself onto my stomach. The two of us froze for a moment, coming down from the high we shared as I fought to catch my breath, my eyes glazing over, humming in deep satisfaction.

Daryl then slowly lowered himself to collapse on top of me, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck all while placing a few lazy kisses there. I smiled tiredly, my hands rubbing his back in a soothing manner and I felt his body envelope me entirely, like a warm protective shield.

"I love you." his gruff voice whispered in my ear.

My smile grew as I felt his teeth grazing my lobe, gently biting down on it, "I love you too..."

~ Thanks for reading! (This took me forever to write, but I think this might be one of my favorite chapters yet:))

Taglist ~ @justareader95 @hayley1998 @ryoujoking @sipsthecoffee @winterassassin1804 @marsmallow433 @catlalice @writingstreetspirit @silentlysurffering98 @mystictf @remuslittlesister @in0320

[toastytrusty]

ok so. class/imperial dynamics between hickey and crozier. they each represent a different side of imperialism and a different way it affects people. very important to note that the major messaging of the show emphasizes how there are no "good ones" or "bad ones" within imperialism; the WHOLE SYSTEM is rotten and destroys everything it touches. the men on the expedition don't just damage and destroy the people and world they meet, the men are damaged and destroyed by the expedition itself. the whole ordeal was wretched and made everything worse for everyone. Which leads to the fundamental difference between hickey and crozier: hickey recognizes this, and crozier doesn't. Kind of. They both have similar lower class backgrounds, and looked to the navy for social mobility. Crozier played by the rules and achieved power and status through it, and he believes in the sanctity of naval bureaucracy and hospitality, if only they go about things the right way. Hickey, however, was so far removed from the prospects of this social mobility that he had to lie and commit identity theft to gain access to it. He has suffered at the hands of the british empire, and never held any illusions about the nature of it; he recognizes the class system as oppressive and the imperial system as violent. He tries to use this to his advantage and to gain power over others, but he still recognizes it and hates it. While crozier is certainly Doing His Best and has Good Intentions and all that, all of his decisions still end up being harmful or disregarding, and all the harm done by anyone else on the expedition (including hickey) is done in his name, because he brought them here and he is their leader. When hickey kidnaps silna and brings her to the ships, crozier is disgusted at the way hickey makes the violent nature of their presence so apparent, and yet he Does Keep silna on the ships afterwards. hickey is punished for insolence and dereliction of duty moreso than the actual harm he caused. Crozier’s issue was with the way he went about his actions, rather than the actions themselves. It still serviced crozier, even if he was, on the surface, put off by it. And hickey did it because he expected crozier to appreciate it. He thought crozier recognized the same things he did. But he didn’t, and that’s where the break between them happens, moreso than during the lashing. Hickey realizes that crozier Doesn’t understand the same things he does, or see things the same way he does. He has assimilated into the naval structure far too much and, in hickey’s view, lost touch. Which is ironic, given that hickey’s whole identity theft was quite indicative of him abandoning his lower class background and any perspective it gave him. There’s a very interesting dichotomy there, of crozier always being honest about his lower class background, and yet achieving status regardless, and becoming fully entrenched in the imperial machine because of it, and hickey never being honest about his lower class background, never achieving status regardless, and still resenting the imperial machine the entire time.

Hickey views crozier as the embodiment of the british empire, and the ups and downs of his respect for him are indicative of the ups and downs of his feelings towards his own potential for betterment through the imperial system. I might be stretching here but to meeee hickey’s mutiny is representative of something like a bourgeois revolution. He views crozier’s command, and the larger system, as oppressive, and he views himself as entirely separate from it in some way, when really he just wants to take crozier’s place and implement a near identical system within his own camp. Hickey’s delusions of personal exceptionalism are quite significant all the way to the end, when he tries to fully sever himself from his britishness and sacrifice crozier to the tuunbaq. He thinks he is different, and that him recognizing the empire’s brutality makes him any less implicated in it. Of course, it doesn’t; he is still british and cannot separate himself from that, so the tuunbaq kills him. However, crozier kills the tuunbaq. He is still concluding the devastation the british cause here. Also crozier’s “you could have just joined up” is really interesting because it shows that even then he still believed in the accessibility and positive potential of the navy. He thinks hickey is foolish for his reservations and ill will, and is almost denying the idea that there would be anything preventing that.