#if I were him i��d put my middle fingers in the air

[ynackerman9499]

Hello! This is me! 𝕪/𝕟 𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟! This is my tumblr in case you don't know me i have a youtube channel which I upload texting stories videos to it! And this is my first post here in tumblr (original)

Some male Hashiras + kagaya reaction to you sacrificing yourself for them

⚠ Warning : spoiler in kyojuro and kagaya, take of death, blood, injuries, crying, some of them are really short

Giyu Tomioka

You and Giyuu were fighting against 2 demons who used a blood demon art

You killed one and Giyuu killed the other one

Or so you both thought...

"You did well giyuu_san!" You said smilling putting your sword in place

While giyuu just nodded humming as a silent 'thank you'

This only made you smile even wider. You've been friends with giyuu with great amount of time now

You both actually gets along very well Despite your different personalities

So you got used to his comforting quiet gesture

"All right! Let's head back n-"

You suddenly stopped sensing that something is wrong While giyuu looked at you wondering why you fell silent so suddenly

"Wh-"

You breathed in sharply, catching a glint in the air watching it whizz towards Giyuu.

"not on my watch!"

You yelled, quickly drawing your sword breaking the unknown object in half.

Giyuu's eyebrow twitched, taking his sword out of its sheath.

"giyuu, there!" You shouted, pointing to the direction of the demon that was currently perched on one of the trees.

The two of you gave each other a knowing nod, rushing towards the trees and jumped landing on one of the branches,

"come back here you coward!" You barked, skillfully jumping from tree to tree, following after the demon.

The demon hissed, sending metal shards towards you and Giyuu, which the two of you dodged with ease

"breath of ice..." you mumbled taking a deep breath

"dance of frozen crystals!"

Streams of sparkling diamond-like figures flowed out your sword as you jumped upwards, holding your katana over your head as you swung it effectively cutting half of it's body;

sadly, not his neck, as he covered it with a steel-like substance.

"Y/n!"

Giyuu called out, causing you to look back at him wondering why did he sound so worried

You saw he was looking horrified looking at your chest rather than your face

'why did he sound so-'

You were caught out of your thoughts by yourself coughing something liquid out of your mouth

You looked down at your chest, a large sharp metal shard piercing through the middle of your chest

"uh.. F-fuck.." you muttered stumbling back and falling against a tree vomiting even more blood feeling it a bit hard to breathe

"y/n! No!" giyuu shrieked running at your slumbering and bloody figure against the tree

"giyuu.. The d.. emon" You mumbled, coughing out a worrisome anmountof blood, the crimson liquid spilling out of your lips in mouthfuls.

"i cant leave you..." he whispered as of scared of starling you

"i cant you are in_" "... Dying"

You corrected him. Mastering the last energy you had to cup his face with your bloody hand while lying in his embrace

"i am.. Dying, Giyuu..."

"no.. No you are not.. You can slow the ble-" "my lungs are... damaged giyuu"

Tears burned his eyes, hugging you close to his chest and placed his hand over your cheek

"i.. Love you... Giyuu... So... Much.. " you confessed as you started to lose consciousness and struggling even more to keep your eyes open

You took a deep breath but sadly... It didn't come out again...

"y/n.. Y/n... Hey.." giyuu said with shaky voice as a couple of tears escaped his eyes

"hey...don't do this to me, love... I–i love you too... Why did you do this... I–i don't deserve this..."he said as he closed your lifeless eyes with his fingers

"i am sorry i am too useless to be able to protect you..." he was now on full mode sobbing

Oh how cruel is it that you didn't even hear the person you love saying thing you wanted to hear from him the most...

Obanai Iguro

No...

No no no no...

That wasn't supposed to happen...

The hit was meant for him...

It was meant for him damn it!

Why did you have to take it for him

He doesn't deserve it

He doesn't deserve to live

Why would he live while you are here dying in his arms gasping and wheezing for air

He is enraged

His fear tends to come out as anger

So while you are literally dying he is shouting at you for how stupid you are, how foolish to waste your precious live over his useless one

His shouting you mutter out an Inaudible : 'sorry... '

Just then the anger turns into tears

"you idiot..." he wailed... Actually wailed.. Something you never thought you'd see, not that you wanted to in the first place

It was supposed to be him...

"don't you dare apologise..." he hugged you even tighter feeling you fading away from him as you tried to breath but it only come out as a horrible choking sound as you choked on your own blood

His cheek rested on top of your head

"o-oba... nai.. " you said chocking in the middle of word as the hole in your chest began seeping even more blood

"g–give them.. H–hell for m–me... Yeah?..."

Oh he would...

He would make them pay for taking you away from him

For making the only person who kept him moving forward...

Is now cold and limb in his arms...

Sanemi shinazugawa

Fuck!

Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck!

He physically can't handle what he is looking at

As he refused to stop saving you even after you already stopped breathing

"shit! Shit!" he pressed harsher on the wound, the blood was slowing but not because of his relentless attempt...

You were gone... Not even being able to get a word out because of how harshly he was crying

For some reason... Even in your final moments you found it kind of comforting that he was try his best to save you

You felt your heart break looking at him from the other side hugging your cold, lifeless body... Trying to squeeze some warmth into it even though he knows its useless

Kyojuro Rengoku

You coughed out blood as akaza hand went through your stomach

"Y/N! NO!"

You took the hit for kyojuro

I mean... How could you not... You just couldn't let someone like him die

You just couldn't...

Gripping your sword harder, you slashed it against his neck making his eye widen

'she got in my way! And she still has the strength!

Akaza thought as he was amazed at how you still has the strength to even breathe

'Kyojuro, im going to die. I know. We had a life planned in front of us, but..l couldn't let you die. I just can't'

You thought as The demon tried to punch your face, but you stopped it with your other hand

"Y/N!!"

'you won't get away... Akaza!'

Looking behind the demon, but still applying force on the neck, you looked behind to see Rengoku with the boy from before charging at you with their swords.

A smile got onto your face.

'I wont ever let go off the sword ..Until I cut his head off!'

"INOSUKE MOVE! MOVE FOR Y/N-SAN!"

The boar now charged at you with speed His attack cut the demons arms, your sword still attached to his neck.

He was running away, clearly.

The boy threw his sword at the demon,.

stabbing him through the chest. Followed by Screaming of how he was a coward by running away and that both Rengoku and you were stronger than him.

You felt two gentle pair of hands gripping your back, drops of water, or tears, to your cheek as kyojuro took you in his embrace trying to stop the bleeding even though he knows it's a fatal wound

"Y/n.. No. No..please don't leave me! Please! I beg you! I will go down on my knees if it have to!"

"kyo... It's okay..." You say voice barely a whisper as you gathered all the strength you had trying to put your hand on kyojuro's cheek.

He quickly took your bloody hand in his and put it over his cheek

"no no... The hit was meant for me to take... Why did you have to get in the middle... Why.."

"i just couldn't.. Let–" vomiting blood "y-you... Die"

You said panting feeling like you can't breathe anymore...

Kyojuro the brust out sobbing burying his face in your neck as your body laid lifeless in his arms

It was supposed to be him dammit!

He was supposed to be the one protecting you!

Not the other way around!

On the other side tanjiro watching the scene feeling his heart break over and over again

Another love story between two lovers was ruined by those disgusting Creatures

Tengen uzui

after a long and hard battle you had ended up dangling off the side of a cliff barely holding onto an also seriously injured tengen.

He could feel your fingers slipping from his.

you were both tired and injured it was a tough battle and despite the demons head being cut off you had taken some heavy blows and now you were dangling off the side of a cliff, barely conscious as tengen held onto your hand with his

"dont worry y/n! ill pul you up Soon!"

you could see him struggling to hold your hand and knew that if he held on any longer he might go down with you

watching him struggle above you made your heart ache as you couldnt do anything to help

"Ten.."

the both of you made eye contact with each other

"thank you for being with me... I love you so much"

his eyebrows twitched at your words

"why does it sound like youre saying goodbye? y/n. You better hold into my hand!"

his jaw was clenched as he spoke to you

you couldnt leave him

if only he had killed that demon sooner

if only he could have protected you

in this moment he hated the gentle smile that was on your face

because to him it meant he had failed

"we both know we'll both fall if you dont let go, neither of us have enough strength left to do anything."

"its okay ten, im ready. i love you and I'll always be watching over you. live well"

he could feel your fingers one by one letting go of his hand and he tried as hard as possible to not let go

"y/n please! I.. I can't do this without you... "

you just shook your head

"im sorry ten but you have to, i know you can. you're going to do great things, with or without me."

"always remember that i love you... And i'll always be watching you"

With that, the last grip he had on you failed

the serene smile on your face was the last thing he saw as you fell to your probable death,

shattering his heart

he screamed your name on the top of his lungs as your hands disconnected followed by painful sobs

Not again...

First his siblings now you..

He lost so many loved ones

of course he knew that he was too injured to pull you up and the most he could have done was just hold onto you until help came,

If help came...

he hated this,

he hated himself

what was the point of being strong when he couldnt even save the one person he loved most in this entire world

"Live well" it was one of the last things you told him hed try his best to because you asked him of it but to him living well meant being by your side which was something he couldnt do anymore.

Muichiro Tokito

poor baby doesn't really know what to do

he's kneeling beside you with a worried look

he's sweating and his hands are clammy

he remains silent for the most part

"Y/n?"

He is right next to you, hand nervously taking your own

"Don't worry."

you give him a weak smile as scary as it was, just his presence was enough.

"|-what do I do?"

The fear in his face made your heart clench.

"Just stay with me. You dont need to do a thing..."

You squeezed his hand with the last bit of strength

you had, smiling softly

"Be careful okay? There are still a lot of demons left"

You didn't fear death,

but you did fear what would happen to those you

loved once it got to you.

Kagaya ubuyashiki

This took place before the explosion in the final battle era

Your husband's hand is cold in yours. You squeeze his

fingers and watch the moonlight bleed out the color of

his skin into silver.

"Are you well, love?" you ask quietly. A washbowl rests to your side, the cloth draped over the side dripping droplets of water down the floor. You take it and wrangle the water with one hand as best as you can,

laying it atop his forehead after. Kagaya closes his eyes and smiles beatifically. It looks painful.

"I will be fine," he says. A mere whisper; it runs wild in the echoes of the night. "| am certain... After tonight, everything will be fine again." You hum thoughtfully. Your heart turns like a clock,

mechanical, a slave to fate. You dare not tell him anything.

"I wonder. . " Kagaya starts. "How does the sky look tonight, Y/N?"

You looked up at the sky as the clouds moved to reveal the beautiful moon

"it's beautiful..." you said as he leaned into your hand as you caressed his cheeks

"he is here..."

A long shadow blocks the moonlight. You look up.

Plum red eyes stare back.

"It's finally nice to meet you, Kibutsuji Muzan," Kagaya says casually.

A chuckle flits in your ear, honey-thick and suave.

Muzan's jacket rests precariously on his shoulders,

and the wind picks up, as if trying to steal it away. The sleeves whip around him uselessly.

"Well;" he says. "You sure look terrible, Ubuyashiki."

If you do not look too closely, you can still delude

yourself into dreaming that this is a normal family.

Your twins have not stopped playing, and their

laughter mingles with the song.

*after the speech because i cant recall it 💀*

"Kibutsuji" You incline your head, a mockery of respect. "You may have prepared for everything.. But there is one thing you didn't prepared for.."

"and what would that may be?"

"this–" you pulled out teh explosion monitor and jumped on kagaya and just before it explored a room open under kagaya's bed and you both fell into a room underground where your kids were waiting for you to come and there was a secret door which led to outside

But it was quite the fall, but you shielded kagaya's body with yours as you he fell on top of you

"Uhmm... " Kagaya groaned from the pain of the impact but more at the though that you were hurt from the fall and his weight together

"it's okay... It's okay..." you said as you cradled kagaya's fragile body

"i just need you to hold on for me... Can you do that please?"

The explosion was loud on top of you but what was more terrifying was the piece of wood of the selling above you that was about to fall

So you quickly pushed kagaya out of the way just as the piece of wood fell on your lower body completely breaking it

"y/n! " Kagaya yelled as best as he could as he heard your crying of pain

"i am fine! I am fine!" You shouted as you tried to stop the tears from dropping from the pain

"kiriya! Listen! Take your father and run out of here!"

"b–but mo–" "no buts! This piece of seilling completely crushed my lower par! You won't be able to get it out! Even if you did i'd be just a burden! I won't be able to run! No go! Go!"

Kiriya quickly carried his father on his shoulder as best as he could

"no... Y/n... If we die... we die together.. That's a promise..."

"well.. Look like i have a change of plans, sorry love"

You said as you smiled sadly at him even though he can't see it

*time skip*

"CAW! CAW! KIBUTSUJI MUZAN IS DEFEATED! KIBUTSUJI MUZAN IS DEFEATED! THE FINAL BATTLE IS OVER! CAW! CAW!"

Kagaya opened his eyes at the sound of the noisy crow.. And for the first time in years...

He sees the sky clearly as the curse marks started to fade from his body...

He quickly tried to ran into the place where his estate is supposed to be with only one though in mind...

'y/n...'

He opened his eyes clearly for the first time in years and the first face he wanted to look at was yours

"oyakata_sama! Wait! You are not fully recovered yet!"

The kakushi tried to warn him but he just didn't care

He wanted to see you, to touch you, to tell you how much you mean to him even though words cannot describe, to make sure you are alright

But what he saw made him stop and his blood run cold...

The estate.. His home... Your home.. Is now crumbled to pieces with you under all that

he quickly took off and tried to dig into the rubble in hopes maybe.. Just maybe.. You are still alive...

"master..."

The kakushis and the remaining of the hashiras felt thier heart break looking at thier master like this...

Nevertheless, they started to help thier master find his wife.. I mean.. You were like a mother and a big sister to them all...

"I found something!" one of the kakushi shouted as he saw your bloody hand sticking out of the rubble

They quickly ran to where he was and started digging even more, just as they reached your head they all stopped and stepped back for thier master to take a look at you...

"oh my dear..."

Kagaya quietly knelt down where your bloody upper body only was visible

He caressed your bloody

cheek just as you did with him a few hours ago...

Oh how beautiful you looked... Even if you were cold and pale with your lips starting to get blue..

He missed you so much that he almost forgot the way you looked...

You looked even more beautiful than he remembered even with the black circles under your eyes and the few wrinkles that appeared on your face and the grey hairs despite how young you are...

"oh love... How many times did i tell not to worry to much about me..." Kagaya whispered as he caressed your cold skin with a few tears falling from his eyes "like this you will age before time..."

He hugged you one last time before the kakushis free your body completely from the rubble and take you to bury your beautiful body

Today the world won peace.. But he lost his...

[strnzzvsp]

passenger princess

paring: dom!matt x sub!reader

warnings: car sex, semi public(?), oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (put ur weenie back in the package bruda), breeding kink, p in v, daddy kink, face fuckin and probably more

a/n: this is inspired by ‘passenger princess’ by nessa barrett! it’s an AMAZING song like go listen to it rn.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

you slowly stepped into matt’s van, sitting pretty on his famous leather seats.

“hi baby!” you greeted matt excitedly. he let out a small chuckle and replied with “hi y/n, why are you so excited. hm??”

there were flashing lights everywhere, someone must’ve been having a party. he put his hand on the side of ur seat and looked behind him as he started to reverse out of the driveway onto the highway, you paused for a moment, why are you excited again? oh yeah.. sin city… “cause you and chris are taking me to powerslap with yall! speaking of that.. where is chris?” you asked, “he’s coming tomorrow baby. he had a meeting about fresh love today.”

you replied to matt with a small hum when he said that and shifted in your seat. matt put his hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down. you shivered and tried to ignore the current heat that was building between your legs,

“what’s the matter ‘love?” he asked gently, only making you wetter. “n-nothing!” you replied with a smile and shifted again. god how much you wanted him to touch you under streetlights. you looked over and noticed a tent in his pants. you tilted ur head with a grin. “what’s that?” you asked with a giggle, matt looked down and turned red. he closed his legs, hoping it would become less noticeable. and less painful. “no, baby let me help.” you whined out, matt’s eyes widened and he swerved off the road. about killing yall in the process. (that’s a joke)

“fucking hell, y/n. your mean. you know that?” he asked, well.. more so said. “aww yeah i’m so big and bad, aren’t i?” you teased the boy infront of you.

you started to undo his pants. watching the way his cock sprung up in the boxers once his jeans came off. “and what’s got you so worked up, hm?” you asked as you took his boxers off. he hissed when when the cold air hit his cock. you slowly took him into your hand then pumped up and down. “shit baby.. it’s that d-damn top.. it just..” he let out a groan and closed his eyes. you were wearing a skin tight dark red sweater that cut off midbelly button, it hugged your curves in all the right places and honestly made your tits look bigger than they were. (outfit here), you ran your thumb over matt’s sensitive tip, he bucked his hips up and gripped at your hair. “cmon baby.. don’t tease me. suck me off, yeah?” you immediately did what he asked. you bent over the middle console, arching your back just to tease him. you took the tip in your mouth and ran your tongue around him. matt pushed your head all the way down. letting out a guttural groan when you gagged. “yeah, that’s it.. gag on my cock baby. doing s-so good.” he breathed out. his free hand traveled down to your ass, he slapped it then grabbed the cheek he slapped and kneaded the skin. you tried to lift your head to moan but matt kept you held down with his other hand. he started to thrust his hips into your mouth, he threw his head back and closed his eyes tightly as he fucked your face. tears running down your face as you tried not to gag, it was a beautiful sight. “fuck baby that’s it.. i’m so close.. oh fuck!” he yelled out, pouring his seed down your throat. he removed his hand from your head and sighed. “clean me up baby.” he demanded. you started to lick all the excess cum off his cock. you slowly sat up to spit it out but matt quickly shut that idea down. “swallow it or i’m not touching you.” you haven’t swallowed anything faster in your life, you let out a gag and looked at him. you stuck your tongue out, showing him you swallow it all. “good girl.” he praised, “now, do you wanna get fucked or be fingered? you can only have one, i don’t want a greedy whore for a girlfriend. do you wanna be something i don’t want?” he asked. “n-no i don’t..” he wrapped his fingers around your neck and applied just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. loving the new found pleasure of his cold rings on your neck. “so?” he questioned. “f-fucked. i wanna be fucked please daddy..”

he let out a chuckled and nodded “daddy? oh that one’s new baby.” he took a deep breath before pulling you on his lap “your gonna ride me without any help today babygirl. that okay?” you gulped and nodded. you slowly slipped off your jeans and panties. you hovered above his tip but failed to get it in each time. you let out a frustrated cry and put your head on his chest. letting out small needy sobs. he rolled his eyes and held you up, sliding into you. “so fucking stupid. making me do everything myself even when i said i wasn’t gonna.” he mumbled under his breath you let out another sob mixed with a moan before wiping your tears and slowly moving up and down. he put his hands behind his head as he watched you struggle. “your doing so good baby. that’s it..” he praised. you let out a desperate moan as you struggled to chase your high. unable to make him reach the spots he usually does. “m-matt.. please..” you begged, “hm? what was that baby? who’s matt?” he asked with a grin. “daddy! please daddy i’m sorry i just c-“ you cut yourself off with a scream like moan as he started thrusting his hips up at an unbelievable speed. “oh fuck.. so fucking tight.” he breathed out, gripping ur hips. “this pussy is all mine, isn’t it? all fuckin mine..” he groaned as your walls squeezed his member. he reached down and started to play with ur clit. you gasped and threw your head back. gripping at matt’s shirt. “matt im so close! please don’t stop im gonna cum!” you whined out. the brunette didn’t stop. instead he sped up “oh fuck i’m gonna breed this pussy. you want that? you want my baby deep inside your womb, don’t you baby?” you snapped at his words, releasing all over his cock with a scream, he looked down as a white ring formed around his base “that’s it.. such a pretty little slut, getting off just by the idea of my baby inside her.” he panted out, his thrust started to become sloppier. indicating his release, he let out a whimper like groan and came inside you. yall sat there in silence, catching y’all’s breath before busting out in laughter. “jesus matt! that was not you!” you stated with a laugh. slowly sliding off him. y’all’s mixed cum spilling out of you. matt pushed it back in with his fingers then put your panties on. you gasped and slowly got back in the passenger seat. matt licked his fingers and grinned. “can’t let any go to waste, can we?” you rolled your eyes and grabbed a random shirt out the back to wipe off, once you were back on the road matt slowly put his hands inside your panties since you didn’t put your pants back on. he slid two fingers inside you and you gasped, looking at him.

“gotta treat you right baby, you are my passenger princess after all.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

a/n: oh. my. god. this took me like 2 hours dude and i don’t even like it, anyway i might be making a part two of snap out of it, or not. i guess we’ll see🤷‍♀️

🏷️- tags in comments

[nisuna]

Need more yuuji smut!!

So hear me out-

bestfriend!yuuji finding your depressed ass in the park while it's raining and you're soaked. So he takes you home and take care of you and puts you to sleep in jis clothes.

Then wakes you up by eating you out and then .. you know.. the rest of the stuff

Holy shit am I in my angst era? 😭 Yuji is 100% my comfort character, so this was very nice to write. He's so boyfriend oml I love him so much<3 I don't even care if this does well or not. I really needed this, tysm for the idea!!<3

⚠️ If you or anyone you know struggles with their mental health or has thoughts like these, please look up your local s*uic*de prevention hotlines. Everybody deserves to get help, and everyone deserves to live. It might not always be as easy as in my little story, but please look after yourselves, I love you all so much and thank you all for all of the love and support🫶🏻 As someone who's been struggling with their mental health ever since their early teens I can say that I definitely can't speak for everyone on this matter, but maybe some will find comfort and familiarity in this

TW: angst, s*icid*l ideation, mentions of declining mental health, hurt and comfort, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, body worship, nipple play, body appreciation, mating press, confession, a lot of crying, this is so dear to my heart, supportive!bff!yuji

~2,8k words~

<3masterlist<3

--------mature themes ;strictly 18+ MDNI-----------

Everything has been fucked lately. Your job sucks, school isn't going great, your social life is almost nonexistent, your family is a mess and you just want some peace and calm. You've been home constantly, but you just can't stand it anymore, which is exactly why you went outside for some fresh air. And as if the universe was giving you the middle finger as well, it started raining. But you just couldn't be bothered anymore. Life sucks and your mental health is declining. So you don't even flinch at the rain hitting your lowered head. You don't care that your clothes are soaked at this point. You just sit there and take it. You've been sitting here for what feels like hours. There has been multiple nosy on lookers that passed by mumbling. Some of them showed concern, but some of them were threw disgusted looks at you and assumed you're some kind of junkie that's loitering around in their peaceful park. You couldn't care less, nobody was actually brave enough to approach you anyway, so you let them talk.

It's getting cold, but you can't bring yourself to move. You're soaked and it's getting dark, but you feel like you have nowhere to go. You're starting to feel numb, your hands and feet are cold and you almost can't feel them anymore. This is actually quite nice, you're neither sad nor mad, you feel empty, but it's not uncomfortable like it usually is. You feel calm, you're not worried. You think that freezing to d*ath might actually be a good way to go. It would be like falling asleep without having to ever wake up again. For the first time in weeks you felt yourself smile. You've made up your mind, nobody will miss you anyway so why bother. But as you were about to lie down, you heard a familiar voice screaming your name.

"What the hell-", you thought to yourself as you sat back up and looked around. You didn't have to wait long before seeing a familiar figure run towards you.

"Y/N!!! Where are-? Oh my god there you are. I looked everywhere for you. What are you doing?", he reached out to grab your shoulders, only for you to flinch away.

"Yuji, what are you doing here?"

"Well, you weren't picking up my calls and I got worried." When you didn't give him an answer, he continued, "Are you alright? Whoa you're soaked and my god you're ice cold c'mon let's get you home. I don't want you to get sick.", he grabbed your hand, trying to get you off that bench. But you didn't budge.

"Y/N? What's wrong c'mon let's go-"

"No, I'm fine, really. Just leave me be."

"What are you even saying? How could I? You are in no condition to be left alone. It's freezing and you're soaked c'mon let's go home-"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE GODDAMN IT!", you screamed and felt tears leave your eyes. Shit. When you reached up to wipe away at your eyes, Yuji stopped you and wiped your tears with his sleeve instead.

"Y/N I don't know what's going on, but please let me help.", he knelt down, squeezing your trembling hands and giving you a warm smile.

"Why do you care so much?", that came out way too wobbly for your liking.

"Why do I care? Y/N, you're my best friend of course I care. How could I not? Look at you."

You were at a loss of words, so he continued. "Is it okay if I touch you more?" Nod. As soon as you gave him the okay he pulled you into a tight hug. It took you a bit to relax, but you eventually gave in and let your emotions run wild. You were shaking, crying loudly in his embrace. All the built-up tension of the past weeks came flooding out, but he was there to catch you. He held you close as you let go. He didn't say a word until you calmed down a bit.

He pulled away to take a look at your puffy face. "Let's go over to mine, hm? What do you say?"

"Fuck it.", you thought as you nodded and got up.

"Want me to carry you?"

"No, that's embarassing. I can walk alright.", you huffed.

"Don't worry, it's late. Nobody will see."

"Okay."

After he wrapped you up in his jacket, you got on his back and let him carry you to his apartment. He's so warm and smells really good. You subconsciously nuzzled your face closer to him. Falling asleep like this would be way nicer than alone. You thought of that as you closed your eyes and hugged him tighter.

Luckily, he only lived a couple blocks away from the park. He was gentle when he set you down as soon as you arrived.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it.", there it was again, his sweet smile. "You should go take a bath before you get sick. I'll lend you some of my clothes." Nod.

------

You felt like a new human being after the warm bath. His clothes were also warm and smelled like him. It was oddly comforting. Has he always smelled this good? Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice.

"Oh wow, you look better already.", he grinned.

"Yeah", you cracked a smile back at him, "I do feel a lot better. Thanks a lot."

"Of course! Now, what do you want to eat, you must be starving? How long were you out there anyway?"

"All day actually...", you confessed.

His shocked expression made you giggle as he pushed you into his kitchen.

After a good meal he said you could go sleep in his bed. He'd sleep on the couch tonight. But you stopped him. "I don't want to be alone. Can you sleep with me tonight."

"Sure, I thought you needed some space and didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Can we cuddle too?"

"We can do whatever you need."

That's how you found yourself back in his arms for the nth time today. The atmosphere was calm, as you were exchanging occasional remarks while watching something. You don't know what overcame you, but you just felt so safe and taken care of that you leaned in for a kiss. However, you quickly pulled away when you felt him stiffen up and not kiss you back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. God, I'm so stupid. You probably hated that. Shit, please don't hate me-"

"No, please calm down, it's alright. It's not that I don't like this. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"You're in a very fragile state right now. I don't want you to do something you might regret."

"But I'm sure, I really want this-"

"Sleep it over. Just one night and if you still feel like it tomorrow I'm down. I'm here for you. We can cuddle all you want, though. I just don't want to take advantage of you."

You shot him your biggest pity pout and when that didn't work you gave in. "Alright, alright, I guessss.", you huffed and fell into his embrace. Both of you didn't talk much after that, there was a bit of tension, but you didn't act on it. When you finally drifted off to sleep it was enveloped in his warmth and smell.

You haven't slept this well in a long time. And you definitely haven't been woken up this nicely in a long time, either.

After such a good night's sleep you didn't expect to wake up to your best friend between your thighs, lapping away at your pussy.

"Hi, good morning", he rasped, morning voice heavy. "You just looked so cute wiggling around in my arms and when I checked you were already so wet down there. Sorry, I couldn't resist.", he said while softly kissing up your thigh.

"It's alright, let me wake up first, though ah-", you couldn't finish your sentence, because your head snapped back with a moan, as he dove back between your legs.

"Sorry, but I need this just as bad as you do. You taste so good. God, I've been missing out on this this whole time? Just lay back and let me take care of you."

You couldn't say no. Not that you were able to say anything at all with his skillful tongue and fingers working your cunt open. He made you a whimpering and sensitive mess in a matter of a few seconds.

"Shit, how are you so good?", you let out a drawn-out moan, but didn't get an answer from him. His actions spoke instead of him, as he had you cumming on his tongue soon after. Once he licked you clean he slotted his body between your legs and kissed you nice and deep.

"Mmh", you moaned against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

"Tastes good, right?", he grinned.

"Shut up", you playfully hit his chest, grinnig right back at him.

"Alright, my turn.", you smiled, trying to get him to lie down only to be pushed back, as he got on top of you again.

"Nope."

"Hey! Not fair, I wanna taste you, too.", you pouted at him.

"Maybe next time. Today's all about you, I don't want you to lift a single finger. As I said, lay back and let me take care of you."

That was an offer you definitely couldn't refuse. So you gave him a nod and waited for his next move. His next move was a very welcome one, as he finally rid him himself of his shirt. You always knew he was well built from years in the gym and other sports. But seeing him like that up close made you gush. His front was mouth watering, and his arms were to die for. He was huge. You would've rubbed your legs together to ease your pain if he wasn't keeping your legs open with his body between them. You didn't even notice you were staring until he spoke up.

"You're practically drooling."

"Fuck, sorry.", you shrieked looking away.

"Don't sweat it. Oogle me all you want, I dig it.", he smiled, pulling your face back in his direction.

"Can I touch you?"

"What kind of question is that? Go for it!"

His skin's so soft, but the ripples of his abs and chest are brick hard. He let you explore his body before grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle kiss.

"My turn.", he whispered against your fingers before pulling your shirt up and exposing your tits. Your nipples were already hard from all of the stimulation earlier.

"Fuck, they're so pretty.", he whispered, grabbing one in each hand and giving them a hard squeeze.

"Shit.", you moaned, back arching off the bed and pussy rubbing against his hard cock. To make matters worse, he leaned down, licking a thick stripe up your neck and pinching your aching nipples between his fingers.

"Off. Now.", he demanded, already helping you pull the shirt over your head. You were finally fully exposed and he ate it right up. He leaned back down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and massaging your other breast. He made sure to pay equal attention to both. It felt really good, but you were getting impatient, already grinding against his hard crotch.

"Yuuji~~", you moaned at a particularly hard suck. "Don't tease. Pleasee, I need you.", you whined.

"Shit, sorry I got distracted. Wait here, I'm gonna go get the condoms."

Before he could leave you, you stopped him.

"No, wait, please don't. I want to feel you.", you said, already digging your nails in his arms at the mere thought of doing it raw.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive.", you smiled reassuringly.

"Fuck, alright. Got it.", he swore and rid himself of his boxers.

Once again you were staring. He was bigger than you thought. You definitely couldn't wait any longer. You needed him inside of you immediately.

He didn't make you wait long before he started to slowly bottom out. Your moans grew embarassingly louder with each inch that filled you up.

"Shit, you're so tight. Please loosen up, you're gonna kill me."

"Sorry, it just feels so good.", you mewled back arching and pressing your soft tits against his hard chest. "Kiss me, please~~" He immediately obliged, crashing his mouth against yours. It was so raw and messy when your tongues kept mashing together, but it just felt so right.

"I'm gonna start moving now. I'm gonna fuck you so good."

You nodded and pleaded. Your wish was his command, so he finally picked up his pace. And god, was he good with his hips. With each thrust and shift of your legs, he kept hitting you deeper and deeper until you practically saw stars. It's so cliché, but you felt like you were in heaven.

Your nails kept grazing his broad back and shoulders, but you didn't want to hurt him, so you held back. As if he had read your mind, he leaned down and whispered against your ear.

"Do it. Mark me up, it doesn't hurt. Please don't hold back."

So you didn't hold back anymore. You let your emotions run wild, exploring his body with your hands. Shyness long forgotten, as you left long red streaks all over his back, occasionally pulling him down for a kiss.

The world stood still. You never noticed before, but he has always been there for you. He was the only person that you ever felt loved by. How had you never noticed. Even if you two never said it out loud before, you loved each other. It had to be love. You felt overwhealmed as his fingers slipped between your bodies and started rubbing thick circles in your sensitive clit. Your breath hitched as the words you kept secret for far too long came tumbling out.

"I love you, Yuji. I love you so much, thank you for always taking care of me. I only have you in my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. Please never leave me, I need you."

If he was taken aback by your words, he didn't show it. He just pressed his lips against yours and kept rubbing and moving his hips until you came undone. And as you were moaning and arching your back, he finally answered.

"I love you, too. So, so much. I always have. I promise I will never leave. No matter what happens, I got you. Forever.", that's when the dams broke down and tears were spilling from your eyes. You just hugged him close and thanked him.

Not long after, he was reaching his limit as well. So he hoisted your legs over his shoulders and pounded away until he filled you up to the brim. All the while he was kissing your tears away and saying how good you were for him and how well you did.

When his hips finally came to a halt, he gently put your legs down and kissed you again. He was gentle when he pulled out and you winced as you felt his cum drip out of you and onto his sheets.

Immediately after, he pulled you close, hugging you like he was about to lose you and you were able to calm down a bit. But the bad thoughts came back as you whispered against his skin.

"Today was so stressful and you must've been worried sick. What if I have another breakdown. I don't want to be a burden. I don't want to stress you out. I don't want to break your heart if anything happens to me."

"Y/N, look at me.", he begged, hands on your cheeks.

You finally looked back up at him, tears stinging your eyes.

"You're not a burden.", he whispered, giving your forehead a gentle kiss. "I will protect you forever. For as long as I live, I will always be here to catch you. No matter what happens. You're not alone anymore. You don't have to endure everything silently and on your own. I promise, things will get better. I will be here each step of the way. I love you so much, so please don't leave me."

You wanted to believe him, you wanted to get better. Maybe you finally could with his help. It's a big gamble, but you're gonna bet all of your cards on this relationship. After a long pause, you gave him a silent nod and burried your face in his chest, all while he was gently patting and kissing your head.

Life and everyone else might be shit, but at least you got him now. He was worth living for.

--------

If you read this far, thank you so much<3 I hope I can make some lighter and happier content soon, but I'm on a roll right now *sigh* Please stay healthy and look after yourselves, mwah

Hope to see you all very soon<3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“You don’t know how to read? Then I will tutor you.” Rollo tells Gidel. “First shall we review your alphabet?” He stacks wooden alphabet blocks one by one and recites. “A is for Abomination, B is forBlasphemy, C is for Contrition, D is for Damnation, E is for Eternal Damnation, F is for…”

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“Gidel, c’mere!” Fellow hissed. He grabbed the young child by the arm and dragged him up and away from the desk with the growing row of wooden blocks. Gidel stumbled behind Fellow, who now directed a glare at the cross-legged boy behind that desk. “And you! Don’t go using your… your big, fancy words like that, you’re going to confuse him!”

Rollo grimaced as he slowly rose from his seat. “I was providing the child with a proper education, as it seems he is sorely lacking one while under your guardianship.”

A memory like a burning hot coal pressed against the inside of Fellow's head. There he was in glasses, crouched by the ground, Gidel beside him with a salvaged notepad and pencil in his sleeves. Letters were scrawled in the dirt, recreated the best he could manage.

"O is for Orange. It looks round like O does. I is for Ice-cream. That ice pop we had the other day was good, right? Tall and thin too, like this letter. And L is for Laugh... cuz lookin' at it like this, it's a smile.

"... Why is L the only one that's not a food? Cuz I wouldn't think of anything else. There's only so much I can teach you,Giddie."

If only I had gone to school, then I would've been able to teach you so much more. If only I...!

His anger spiked, and he tightened the grip on his fox-tipped cane. Pride, hurt. Fellow bared his teeth, eyes flashing dangerously. “What’d you just say?! You oughta not pick fights with adults."

"I am doing no such thing. I am merely stating the facts. It is of no concern to me that you should lose control of yourself over this." Rollo pressed a handkerchief to his nose. "... Your temperance is lacking as well."

"You're REALLY grindin' my gears! Who died and gave you the right to have an ego as massive as your forehead, eh?!”

“Mocking my appearance now, are we?” The sarcasm in Rollo’s voice was palpable. “How… mature.”

“For your information, I’m plenty mature!!”

“I would beg to differ. I know community goats that are better behaved than you.”

Gidel worried glanced between the two. The air between them was becoming increasingly heavy and charged. The wooden blocks, forgotten on the desk. He had been so looking forward to learning.

And so had Fellow, he knew.

A lightbulb went off in Gidel’s head.

The young boy put himself between the dup and, latching onto, Rollo’s robes and Fellow’s jackey, Gidel tugged. They both paused mid-argument and glanced down at him.

“…!!”

Gidel stared at them pleadingly. With all of the strength his tiny body could muster, he tried to drag the two toward the desk where the alphabet blocks awaited. Then Gidel glopped back onto his chair and slapped a hand on the F cube, the other hand gesturing at Fellow.

“What’s this? You wish to resume the lesson?” Rollo smirked triumphantly. “Well, then. It seems the child has made his final choice—and a fitting continuation. F is for the Fool beside me.”

“Oh, screw off!! Like you know Giddie better than I do!” Fellow jabbed Rollo in the middle of his (aforementioned massive) forehead. “He’s not sayin’ THAT. He’s sayin’ he wants me to be a part of the lesson too.”

“… Excuse me?” Rollo’s brows creased. “How could you possibly come to that conclusion?”

“I’m good at reading people. That’s one life skill your shiny schools can’t teach ya in the classroom!” Fellow grinned broadly. “So the decision’s settled! I’ll be a teacher too.”

“One moment,” Rollo protested. “Why do you presume you will be an instructor? Someone at your current level would be better suited to being a student.”

“Cuz you might put weird words in his head!! Someone’s gotta keep you in check.” Fellow tapped the F block with a finger. “Like this! F is for… Fun!”

Rollo looked appalled. (Gidel, excited.) “Fun?!”

“Fun,” Fellow repeated, “because if you lay F down, it looks like a big brother and a little brother walking together on a road—and life is F-un when it’s U N me, Giddie!”

“You must be joking,” Rollo scoffed. “A flimsy pneumonic device like that will never prove effective.”

“And G is for Grumpy, which is the face our new friend making! See how he’s frowning like the top curve of the letter? Then follow it down and in, pretending it’s his puckering chin 🎵”

“!!” Gidel faithfully nodded, oblivious to the discontent of his other teacher.

“Grumpy, me…? Surely not,” Rollo murmured to himself. He squinted hard at Gidel, searching for signs of foul play or deceit.

But still, the boy seems unusually… happy. Is he actually enjoying this juvenile lecture? I do not understand.

The longer he watched, the more discomfort knotted in his chest. There was something unnerving to the smiles and laughs Fellow and Gidel shared. An older brother and a younger one, having fun together…

“Look what I can do, nii-san!”

Sadness washed over him, along with a solemn silence.

Rollo’s eyes drifted shut. He had known it, had feared the parallels creeping up on him.

If only you could be here with me.

[lalunanymph]

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟐: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: mean!sukuna, unrequited love, child neglect, childhood trauma, flashback-heavy, language, repressed trauma, allusions to d/rug a/buse, mentions of s/moking, mentions of food, mentions of a/lcohol, explicit s/mut (sukuna x este), cuckcake-ish vibes, tension, MDNI

masterlist | playlist

He sees the invitation in his brother’s hand first thing in the morning, and wishes he hadn’t woken up in the first place. 

Groggy and still drunk from the night before partying with Ino and his gang of friends, Sukuna blinks the crust from his eyes with wary bleariness.

“What do they want now?”

He groans, recognizing the L/N family seal from a single glance.

Jin, clad in a beige sweater the color of boring and a similar pair of bland slacks, shakes his head. “I don’t know ‘Kuna. But, I think your future in-laws want to get to know you better.”

His brother tosses the invitation onto the dining table, and turns to refill his coffee while humming under his breath. Despite his hesitation and dismay, Sukuna reaches for the innocuous item, turning it around his fingers to check the edges; evaluating the invitation like its a show pony up for sale.

Constellation Snow paper with Waterman ink. 

The L/N’s were serious about their reputation.

A cruel smirk plays on the corners of his lips. Compared to the Naras, the L/N’s were shams in their society—new money desperately trying to climb the ladder. Your mother, Lia, was descended from department store royalty but chose to taint her blood with a middle-class business associate from Shibuya who scrappily acquired his own company at the age of twenty-five.

Your family’s history was thoroughly researched on by Hiromi even before the idea of marriage was put forth, attesting to the lawyer’s incredible foresight.

And now the snakes are waiting in the bushes to strike.

However much Sukuna wants to refuse this invite, it would not look good on the Itadoris if they dismissed a future business partner.

Jin, too, appears to have the same line of thought, sitting across from him with a slight frown. The buttery smell of coffee beans wafts in the air, coaxing him from his drunken fatigue.

“So?” his younger twin asks. “Are you going to say ‘yes’?” 

Sukuna turns the card over, flips it over to his brother. Jin catches it before it goes tumbling to the ground, tossing him a scowl. He unfolds it, reads through its contents quickly.

“A getaway for a week at their private mountain lodge,” he mutters wryly. “Whatever could go wrong?”

Hearing the note of amusement in Jin’s voice, Sukuna rolls his eyes, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It's so they can force us into this alliance. How else are we going to plan an escape if we’re trapped with them on a goddamn peak.”

“Is this what you see your fate as?” Jin murmurs, trying hard not to smirk. “A trap?”

“You got a better term for it?” Sukuna grouses. “You didn’t give me a chance to say ‘no’ to the whole thing. You forced my hand before I could even consent.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jin mutters, returning back to the table with a plate of toast and some butter. Sukuna tries to grab one of the brown slices, but his brother swats his hand away with a scowl that says go get your own food.

Begrudgingly, he stands to make himself a bowl of cereal before he comes to a stop.

Usually, someone would be here to take his plate, toast his bread for him, and prepare his usual fare of strawberry jam and manuka honey on the table before he could even lift a finger. Or, they would prepare the granola and milk for him on the table before he even has to ask.

“Where’s the help today?” He suddenly realizes, perturbed by their quiet absence. 

In response, Jin hums. “I gave them a day off."

Sukuna looks at him like he has grown two heads, wondering what could possess such a man to debilitate his household like this. When he would become the man of the house, Sukuna wouldn't give them a day off on a whim like his weak-hearted younger brother.

“Why? What did they do to deserve it?” 

His blood is boiling, about to spill over in his infamous temper tantrums when Jin sighs, stopping him in his tracks with his next words.

“It’s her Death Day anniversary today.”

Sukuna almost blurts out “Who?” when the sight of Jin's grim expression suddenly jogs his memory.

He immediately remembers and wishes he hadn’t been so blunt. 

Ah.

Kaori. 

The older twin shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. “Happy… Death Day. I guess?” 

Sukuna was lucky Jin was in a decent mood and didn't sock him in the face for that insensitive comment. As her death was two years ago, the young air stewardess’ absence was still very much felt by her grieving husband until this day—a blow to his soft heart which he will never get over for as long as he lived.

“We need to respond to that invitation,” he switches the subject, cleaning up after himself. “Oh, and with kind consideration for our future companions, the L/N’s have also offered the Gojos and Naras an invite.”

Sukuna almost choked on his cereal. “T-the Naras are coming?” 

Without turning to him or being ticked off by the change in his older brother’s tone, Jin nods, continuing to scrub his dishes. 

“James wants to talk new business terms with Ken, and he’s interested in hearing what the guy has to offer. Also, Gojo Sr. might be bringing his best cigars. It’s unmissable.”

The older Itadori internally swore, wondering if the entire universe had just upended and gone entirely insane. 

Though he was a bastard through and through, even Sukuna could admit that having his future wife and hookup slash sorta girlfriend under one roof would be a disaster waiting to happen. 

You could never find out about him and Este. 

“That’s… interesting.”

“You can join us if you want,” Jin adds, “Only if you can keep your partying tendencies on hold for three days.”

“Just for three days?” Sukuna smirks, and Jin finally turns around, giving a look he is all too familiar with.

Throwing his hands up, the older Itadori shrugs, trying his best to look as innocent as possible.

“You know me, Jin-Jin. I’m always on my best behavior.”

“Darling, we must hurry,” your father scolds, and you struggle to keep up with them in your tottering heels. Behind you, your mother shoos you down the tarmac, towards the humming private jet ready to depart. 

“We can’t keep the Itadoris waiting!” 

The maids rush with your bags, one of them carrying your fur trimmed hat in case it flutters off your head.

Once the butlers had stowed away your luggage, each of them formed a line and bowed to you and your parents as the three of you climbed up the airstairs, waving you off with polite smiles.

“I can’t believe we’re going to spend three whole days with the Itadoris,” Lia gushes as the cabin crew starts to pat down the overhead compartments, doing their final checks. She looks radiant in her mink-trimmed fur coat hanging off her shoulders, the picture of elegance with her sleek bodycon dress and sparkling golden jewelry dripping from her throat and ears.

Relaxing into the muted beige seat, you nod. “Me, too. I wonder what activities Itadori-san likes.”

In comparison to her, you're dressed in all monochrome; your stylist came in at the nick of time to take inspiration from some of his ex-girlfriends' winter fashion—settling you into a ribbed sweater dress with some stylish earmuffs and a black trench coat that feels like a million bucks under your splayed palms.

Your mother turns to your father who was trying to catch his breath, shaking out his handkerchief to pat his shining face.

“Jiro, darling. Do you think it’s brazen if we request for them to share a room together?” 

Your father looks over his half-moon spectacles, tilting his head to the side. “Itadori-san and our daughter? Well, I don’t see why not.”

You blanch, but before you are able to voice your discontent, an air stewardess glides by with three flutes of champagne. Setting it down, she asks in a soft voice if you were all ready for refreshments.

Unsure how to broach the subject, you stew in your disappointment for the entire plane ride to Hokkaido, glad you chose the window seat so you could spend a little more time alone in your thoughts.

Your phone vibrates with a text, and you switch it on to find Utahime sending you a GIF of a cat waving a good luck banner.

Smiling to yourself, you respond with another cat GIF, this one sticking its face to a window with its whiskers twitching sorrowfully, and put your phone on silent for takeoff.

Iori could always make you smile, no matter how nervous you are. You kind of wish she could be here with you. Staring out at the passing scenery below, you tilt your head back, wondering what kind of carnage awaits at the base of mountainous Hokkaido.

Since striking lucky with his marriage to your mother, your father began divesting his profits into property, and the 5,000 feet lodge instantly became the highlight of his purchases. 

Imposing and standing firm on fortified concrete to withstand the harsh, cold mountain air, your childhood days were spent playing in the narrow hallways, fashioned similarly to the labyrinth-like interior of Europe’s oldest castles. Your parents absolutely adored German architecture with its spiraling spires and brick red slates upon such historical monuments, and wanted to emulate the design right on the slopes of Hakodate. 

It’s been years since I’ve seen the lodge. 

The last time you were there, you were just shy of your sixteenth birthday. 

Bright-eyed, and romantically wistful. You often imagined how pretty it would be to walk along the grand balcony as the sun performed its final best for the day; orange rays soaking your skin from head to toe as you admire nature's best while hand-in-hand with a man you love.

And now, your fantasies have a chance of turning into reality. 

You wonder how Sukuna will feel when he sees the spires, the chimneys, and the cozy old brick walls that allows for the warmth of the house to seep into them despite the persistent chill.

He would be impressed—you like to think he might be a bit more polite once he sees your family is just like his. Just as powerful and grand and worthy. 

Smiling secretly to yourself, you swallow down an Ambien, slip on your headphones, and settle into the comfortable seats for the start of your wildest hopes coming true.

The private car taking them up the winding road almost makes Sukuna turn green around the edges.

Jin sits beside him, a faint flush on his cheeks from the cold despite not having reached the mountain’s first base. Their mother used to always tease how he was the easiest to blush or bruise; so much different from his staunch older brother.

“The weather is lovely,” his twin muses.

Sukuna stares out the window, not bothering to hide his sulky mood. His phone is off, his last text from Este snidely insulting the L/N’s on how they only had two private hot springs in their lodge went unreplied. 

He hasn’t bothered to respond to her because he’ll see her soon enough. 

Fuck… this is some twisted shit. A part of him still can’t wrap his head around the fact that his situationship and future fiance would be in the same room together. 

Jin hums, breaking him from his thoughts, and after a brief lull, shoots up excitedly, tapping the driver’s seat. “It’s this one! We’re here.”

Unable to match his enthusiasm, Sukuna sighs deeply and rolls his eyes. The driver stops the Jeep right in front of the lodge, and for a split second, Sukuna wonders if the Ambien he took on the private-plane ride here accidentally knocked him out long enough for them to appear in the middle of Heidelberg or some far flung place in fucking Europe. 

This lodge had fucking spires, for god’s sake. 

He can’t help the bubble of distaste gurgling in his chest when he sees such opulence in the middle of nowhere. Inaccessible to the base unless with a Jeep and a day’s worth of travel, one could only imagine the amount needed to keep a money drainer like this going. 

They’re rubbing their wealth in our face, he sneers inwardly. What a nouveau riche thing to do. 

A butler rushes out to hoist their bags, allowing Jin and him the leisure to crane their necks and take in more of the grand rooms. Wooden timber floors echo the dull thuds of their boots, high beams in the same honey color wood arching and intersecting, opening the living room into an expansive ceiling and windows that seem to touch the sky. 

The interior is tasteful with accents of natural wood on the walls, a spiral staircase, and a large fireplace that’s happily belching heat across a sunken pit fitted with black corduroy sofas. A flat screen TV is on, and Sukuna almost misses a bundle moving from the end of the chair, walking right to them.

You're in a silky black dress with a sweetheart neckline, house slippers on your perfectly manicured feet. So different from the beige and bland girl he saw at the cafe that Sukuna has to hide his double take behind a sudden cough, the tips of his ears feeling a little bit warmer than before.

Jin is the one who smiles widely, bowing low. “Y/N. It’s good to see you.”

Returning his gesture, you grin. “It’s lovely to see you too, Itadori-san,” and not forgetting Sukuna, you added, “You too, Itadori-san.”

“Please, call me Jin,” the younger twin extends a note of familiarity and you receive it graciously with another smile. 

From the corner of his eye, Jin glances at Sukuna, as if expecting him to drop all formalities with the woman who was soon to be his wife. But, the older twin did no such thing; nodding to you in greeting while keeping his antipathy closely tucked to his chest.

“Hello again, Y/N.” 

Though his abrupt unfriendliness puts you off, you plaster on your best hostess smile, about to show the two brothers to their rooms when your mother’s shrill voice pierces through the quiet. 

“Jin-san! Itadori-san!” Exuberant, she bounces down the steps, fresh from a shower and wearing a new coat of makeup after the dreary flight. “You’re both here!” 

Jin takes her hand, and in a gallant gesture you never expect him to do, presses the back of it to his lips. “Lovely to see you again, Lia.”

You never thought you’d see the day when your mother stutters like a schoolgirl in love. She coughs, batting her lashes and turns to the older twin. “Itadori-san.” To him, she bows slightly, showing him deference as the older brother in this dynamic. This time, Sukuna returns her bow, knowing full well that to lord his rank over them would be disrespectful to his host.

“Lia-san. You look well.”

Beaming at the two men, your mother sinks her fingers into your shoulders. “I’m so happy you finally got to meet Y/N in person, Jin-san. Isn’t she lovely?” 

Diplomatic to a fault, the younger twin nods. “She is as lovely as you are, Lia-san.” 

Expectantly, she turns to Sukuna, who clears his throat, his skin suddenly crawling from all eyes on him. “The cold air does wonders for all of us,” were his words. You feel your mother’s fingers digging deeper. 

Sparing the room from an awkward note, you clear your throat. “Shall we show them to their rooms, mom?” Emphasizing on the last word, you effectively break Lia’s spell, her million dollar modeling smile back on. 

“Yes. Yes. Jin-san, I hope you don’t mind rooming with Gojo Satoru when he arrives. He barely sleeps, but then again, so do you. I’m afraid his father couldn’t make it due to a sudden stomach bug so he’s the only one representing the Gojos.” 

Jin remains genial. “I would love to catch up with Satoru when he arrives.”

“Perfect.” She turns her smile to Sukuna, who feels every expectation surrounding him amplifying; dread pools in his stomach when the physical embodiment of lies and deception starts deepening her grin. Lia unclasps one hand from your shoulder to grip Sukuna’s bicep.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty to make a special arrangement for you, Itadori-san.”

He wonders if they’re going to put him with your father in a separate room; already the picture of the older man’s twisted words and smarmy grin come to his mind, trying to force his hand to hurry up and marry you.

But, what Lia says is much worse than his imagination could conjure. Her hand on his arm burns hot and prickles his skin past the cashmere sleeve.

“I’ve put a room together just for you and my daughter, of course.”

Jin swears he’s never had to drag Sukuna out from a room fast enough. 

His brother seethes, hands clenching open and close while he tries to find a quiet enough spot so the older twin doesn’t explode into a raging temper tantrum. 

“‘Kuna, it’s okay,” he consoles, but Sukuna doesn’t want to hear it. 

“How dare they think they can do this!” His jaw tenses, veins popping from his neck. The kitchen is empty, though for it to be free of errant eyes and ears, Jin can’t be sure.

“Hey, come on—don’t lose it here now,” Jin begs. 

The older twin’s volatile temper is hard to predict and even harder to cool down once he reaches that peak of no return. To think it would be triggered by a simple room assignment would be comical if Jin has had a few beers, but this just solidifies to him how acutely Sukuna truly resents you.

It takes Jin aback. You’re such a sweet person; a kind soul. Why would his brother react in such a way to you was a mystery to the younger man. He doesn't have time to prod further. Voices ring down the hallway, and Jin recognizes Adam Nara’s jolly baritone, following Gojo Sr.’s cheerful greeting to your father.

The other players have entered the game. Jin couldn't afford to lose face now.

He grabs his brother by the shoulders and shakes him a little. 

“Listen, shit face. Our enemies and alliances are just beyond this door. If you love ka-san and oto-san—” Scratch that. Sukuna cares for no one but himself. Jin shakes his head. “If you care about the money and getting your inheritance, I need you to pull yourself together. Just for this evening. Got it?”

Sukuna doesn’t respond, and Jin’s no longer the nice, younger brother he has to be in front of others. He transforms into Itadori Jin, de facto Chairman of Itadori Holdings, his shoulders squared and mouth set in a firm line. Purely meaning business.

If he wasn’t in such a rage, Sukuna would find the change impressive; he’s almost quivering in his boots. 

“You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to play nice, you hear me?” There’s a threat hidden behind his calm words—the edge of a sharp knife wrapped in between soft sheets. “You will be polite to Y/N, treat her parents with respect and you will be married by the end of this month, am I clear?” 

It stung. It bruises his ego to have Jin control his life. 

But, didn’t you give up the crown when you decided to leave the family and make it on your own? A small, bitter voice in the back of his head quips. 

He’s quick to shoot it down, though a lingering sense of loathing balloons in his chest. It’s humiliation and resignation all in one. Sukuna pauses for a second, letting Jin stew in his anger, before slowly nodding.

His younger brother exhales, and releases his death grip from his twin’s shoulders. 

“Good. If you’re antsy about the room situation, you can always tell Lia you want to protect her daughter’s virtue. It’ll be a decent enough reason and score you brownie points with the family.”

Jin’s words which were meant to soothe and comfort him, strikes a chord, flipping the switch in his mind. Excitement bubbles right in the pit of his stomach.

If I can’t change my fate in this arrangement, maybe I can influence it. 

“No,” he says coolly, taking his brother aback. “I’ll do it.” Jin stares at him as if someone had just swooped in and switched his twin with a different man. 

Is he planning something insidious? Though the Itadori Chairman has his suspicions, he can’t outright call his brother out on it—not when Sukuna is making the effort to appease and honor the deal.

“Okay,” Jin says slowly, though the note of hesitation and distrust is palpable. 

Sukuna maintains his innocent facade with a blank mask, the markings on his face starker under the orange light.

Jin represses a shudder, trying not to let the memory of that day come up again.

The voices outside grow louder, and he can scarcely ignore them.

Duty’s calling and he has to answer.

“Alright,” he murmurs into the quiet. “Let’s go outside to meet them.” Before Sukuna can leave, Jin grasps his shoulder, forcing him to round back and look at him.

Wearing a look awfully similar to Wasuke, Jin wags his finger. 

“Remember, ‘Kuna. No fucking funny business.”

He stops, rolls his eyes and plants a crooked smile in place. It’s the smile that could win any girl over into his bed for the night no matter her relationship status; reassures the most fidgety investor that their returns would be safe with him.

“You have nothing to worry about, Jin. No funny business—I promise.”

Itadori Wasuke wasn’t just a father—he was the blueprint to Jin’s lifepath. 

Ever since he could walk and talk, Jin loved following his dad around—tottering into meetings, plopping himself onto the older man’s lap and grabbing the papers on his desk to drool over them. 

Despite his status as a ruthless businessman and one of the shrewdest minds in transportation, Wasuke loved nothing more than to indulge his boys with time, wisdom, and guidance. He would never push his youngest away—always with a firm hand and a soothing voice to lead him in the right direction. 

Rainy days were Jin’s favorite. His father usually sat himself in the parlor with a cigarette and the latest paper, relaxing after a day filled with nothing but meetings.

The memory of him clambering on the couch next to him, curls of nicotine smoke filling the air, was such a vivid one Jin still thinks he can smell the tobacco on his skin. 

“What’re you doing here?” His father’s faded pink hair, a rarity in this world which he passed to his two sons, shone like silk under the amber lighting, those red-brown eyes dancing with mirth at the sight of his golden child. 

Jin fiddles with his fingers, suddenly aware of the secret he was holding and how much it could ruin his father’s mood. But, he had no choice. He had to tell his dad before the maids could beat him to it and get his nii-san into more trouble than he already was in.

“Um… it’s ‘K-Kuna, oto-san.”

At the mention of his oldest, Wasuke snaps the paper close, the fine lines around his mouth deepening.

“What happened to him? Did he do something wrong again?” 

Blaming Sukuna was a default in the Itadori home. Sometimes, Jin overhears his father lamenting to his mother past the thin doors, wondering where and how he went wrong in raising two sons who were as different as day and night.

“He… made a bet at school and…” Jin sucks in a breath.

Putting the newspaper down, Wasuke’s attention was fully on him, those vermillion eyes ablaze. “Well? What happened? Did he hurt someone?”

Flinching, Jin shakes his head. His brother may be a jerk and a rebel, but Sukuna would never hurt someone intentionally. Deep down in his heart, the youngest twin was sure of it. 

“He made a bet with some boys and lost and he—” Jin exhales out the last part in one, frighteningly quick breath. “—hewentandgothisfacetattooed.”

His father blinks. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt, pushed past his elbows were stretched across his taut arms, as if he was holding himself back from slamming his fists into the table.

“Where is he?” Deceptively calm; a storm brewing in the distance.

Jin naively hoped his father would put things right again—talk some sense into Sukuna to get those tattoos removed from his face and arms.

They were the Itadoris, a respectful house.

How was his nii-san supposed to lead a company when he didn’t look professional at all? And not to mention, they were both fifteen—they were too young to think about permanent inks and bets.

Wasuke seems to echo his youngest son’s thoughts, sinking back into the plush, leather sofa and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Jin can tell his father is going through a range of emotions—the blood rushes to his face, leaves his cheeks red, puce, and then sickeningly green around the edges.

This is bad. This is very, very bad.

“Thank you for telling me, Jin,” his father finally manages to compose himself enough to pat his head. “You can go back to bed now. I’ll speak to Sukuna when he comes back home.”

Stiffly, the youngest twin stands, bowing once to his dad. He wishes the old man a goodnight and trudges back to bed, unaware of a woman lurking in the corner who slinks into the room, having heard everything that transpired between her husband and son.

“—what did he do now?”

A resounding crash shakes the walls, and Jin freezes, darting behind a potted plant to listen in.

His mother’s shrieks filter past the flimsy wood; their argument front and center for the whole house to hear.

Jin hears snatches of the altercation, his heart plummeting right to his stomach.

“—your son!” His father roars.

“You mean, our son!” his mother yells back. There’s another crash, and Jin covers his ears, shaking his head from side to side.

Make it stop, please. Make it stop. 

The guilt eats him alive, especially when he hears what his father says next.

“Fifteen years I’ve been tolerating that boy, but it has to end here. He can’t keep misbehaving as if the world owes him everything at his feet. If this keeps up—” Wasuke swears, and a heavy object crashes into the wall. His mother shrieks. “—I’ll make Jin my heir!” 

At the mention of his name, the young boy freezes, not daring to even breathe.

His father can't make him the heir. It would break his older brother's heart.

“You can’t!” she sobs. “It’s against the natural rule of things! Sukuna is set to inherit the fortune. You can’t change the order of our world, Wasuke!”

His father laughs, a terrifying, full belly roar which makes the ground shake and his chest cave in. 

“I can and I will. You watch me, woman. The will is mine and mine alone to execute. If you keep this up—protecting that stupid boy when he doesn't deserve it, I will send him to the military and keep him there until he finally grows a spine and some common sense, you hear?! I can have him killed in battle—”

Kasumi screams again, and this time, it claws straight through Jin’s soul; a wounded animal sound of a mother terrified for her young.

“Dear, please. He’s only a boy. Only a child. You can’t expect the world of him. He is your blood and flesh—”

“Someone this idiotic and foolish will never be my son and I will never claim him!” 

From the corner of his eye, Jin spots movement by the stairs. His brother, backpack slung across his shoulder, skin around his face and arms mottled and red from the tattoos, pauses at the top step.

“He has done nothing but bring shame to the Itadori name!” 

Wasuke bellows, his next words rattling the roof and breaking every heart within the vicinity; most of all, his oldest son’s who had innocently stumbled into the middle of the fray without any warning. 

“I wouldn’t care if he lived or died! I have Jin and he’s the better choice.” A loaded exhale—a reloading of more emotionally charged bullets. 

“You and that bastard can fucking rot to death for all I care."

Sukuna rubs a hand down his face, feeling the steam clinging onto his pores. 

The onsen was quiet tonight, everyone in the house either up in the parlor drinking, smoking, or by the sunken sofa fireplace, exchanging gossip about another up-and-coming family or an investment scheme gone wrong. 

He’s never been one to belong in a world like this, so Sukuna had taken his leave early after dinner with the excuse that he was feeling a headache coming along. The maids had already hauled his suitcase up to the suite he would be sharing with you, and thankfully, you were locked in a conversation with Gojo Satoru, the only other person around his, Jin’s, Este’s, and your age on this trip to notice he had gone missing. 

While his brother plays along with the whims of the upper echelon, Sukuna prefers to submerge his tired body in the mineral-dense waters. 

Though the woman he was fucking was here, too, Sukuna had reservedly given her a one-sided hug when Este walked in, green eyes sparkling and looking like the picture of allure in her ermine coat and slinky black dress. Throughout dinner, she kept on glancing at him, and he tried to pretend like her eyes didn’t bore holes into the side of his head; that her accusatory glare didn’t feel hot on the back of his neck when he was forced to sit beside you during dessert, striking up an awkward conversation.

For your part, you had no idea the woman whose bed he warms is in the same room as you, and Sukuna likes to keep it that way. There will be hell to pay if word of this gets out. 

Footsteps resound, prickling his ears. Through the steam and fog of this glass room, he makes out a familiar figure walking right towards him, clad in just a towel.

“Sukuna-san.”

Este stands, long brown hair shimmering like a coat of silky chocolate down her back, the rise of her collarbones already flushing red from the steam. There’s a look in her eyes that spells trouble when she slinks closer towards him.

Acutely aware of his nakedness, Sukuna does nothing but a cock a brow in her direction.

“Getting bolder now, I see.”

But, he doesn’t stop her from sinking one foot into the natural hewn pool, her towel melting off her body and falling in a heap behind her.

He unabashedly drinks in her curves; the mole on her left breast he loves to bite down on, those puckered nipples tightening from the humidity. The planes of her abs defined from years of pilates led right to a smattering of dark hair near her pubic bone, and he caught the slightest glance of that little hole he loves when she parts her legs, sitting comfortably against the rock across from him.

Rolling her neck from side to side, Este sighs deeply.

“What a bore this is. I honestly thought mom would let me smoke here, but she says she doesn’t want to give the Gojo’s a wrong idea.” Her full lips twist into a sneer. “You’re not looking any better.”

He scoffs, splashing her with the warm water. Este shrieks, giving him a murderous glare.

Outside, a light snowfall starts to descend, tiny flakes lingering on the transparent dome. It’s ethereal and romantic, though the woman in front of him ruins his view. 

You stand by the door, unsure if you should step in when you see Sukuna and another gorgeous woman in the onsen. They’re both bickering, and Sukuna stops when he notices you about to turn and leave.

“Hey. Join us.”

His low baritone is crisp. Commanding.

You can’t turn away, not when he’s already noticed you.

Plastering on a fake smile, you shake your head, trying to beat a hasty retreat. “M-my bad, Itadori-san. Nara-san. I thought the onsen was empty—”

Este, daughter of James Nara and one of the richest trust fund babies in Japan, snorts. She’s beautiful, but something about her sharp features and those plump lips makes a shiver run down your spine. It’s as if she’s a bloodhound, trying to sniff out your weakness. She bares her too white teeth and you’re reminded of a Great White seconds away from snapping a fish’s spine in half.

“Nonsense. This is your house, Y/N-san. You should join us. We want to know everything about you.”

The back of your neck prickles, and it’s not from the heat. 

Sludges of white gather atop the dome, trickling down to the packed ground like you were stuck inside a live snow globe. Your smile tightens around the edges and you clutch the towel in a numb grip, mind blanking out on an excuse.

These onsens were your private escape from the real world, and you rarely took a dip naked in front of your own family, let alone a pair of strangers.

Sukuna rolls his eyes, growing annoyed at your floundering and hesitation. “Look. Either you join us, or you leave us to continue our conversation. We were in the middle of something.”

Cheeks flushing warmly, you felt the chill deepening in your soul. Your smile never broke, but you darted your eyes away from his indifferent expression, corners of your lips quivering.

Snapping your mouth shut, you nod. “I… I’ll leave you two alone, then.”

The minute you leave the room, Este turns to him. “Ouch. That was kinda harsh.”

Sukuna snorts, and with the knowledge of you not returning into the room now that he had humiliated you, he brazenly draws Este to his lap, nuzzling his face into her neck.

She purrs, looking like the cat who got the cream when she straddles his lap, letting him feast his hungry eyes over her perfect body. The tip of her acrylic traces down the tattoo near his jaw, and that diabolical smile of hers deepens. 

“That was your fiance, Ryomen. You should be nicer to her.”

He makes a sound of disagreement in the back of his throat, moving his cool lips from the hollow of her neck to the rise of her breasts. Licking and sucking at her nipples, he alternates, biting down on the flesh, blowing on those buds to watch them harden into stiff, pink peaks. Her soft moans carry together with the steam rising to the top of the glass ceiling; those verdant eyes rolling back into her head from the shivers he was wracking in her body.

“Stop talking about her,” he murmurs, lifting her up slightly by the hips and sliding his already throbbing cock deep into her twitching heat. She winces, stabs her nails into his shoulders from the sudden stretch. “I need to fuck you.”

She ticks her hips forward, a little slutty show just for him. Sukuna can tell the idea of fucking him with you under the same roof is driving her wild.

“m’not on the pill today,” she whispers into the hot shell of his ear, running her tongue over the delicate ridges. Sukuna’s fingers are bruising her hips, rutting deep into her. He likes how she takes him without complaint or prep—the perfect hole to be used and abused. 

He’s thrusting into a spot inside of her that’s too deep to reach, snaking his hand around her throat and squeezing down hard.

“Don’t care,” he breathes heavily, vermillion eyes hooded; harsh tattoos lining his face jumping out from under the low light. “Just pop something after.”

He’s evil and tantalizing—the devil she readily gives her body to whenever he snaps his fingers.

Este nods, leaning back to brace her hands against his strong thighs, eager to please him. 

“Yes, Sir.”

It was once said that the greatest artists in this world found contentment within their own solitude where their wildest inspirations could come to life with no judgment from the public eye. 

Though you could not compare to Van Gogh or Monet, you had to admit that there was a shred of truth to those words. 

Mountain air fills your lungs, and you span your gaze towards the horizon as your eyes can see. The easel you requested the butlers to prepare was your standing guard, the blank canvas leaning on it your enemy to parry with.

Like a writer hunched over their incomplete manuscript, your art block was equally as vicious. The lines and colors eluded you, and you could not focus a single thought on what was to be the final outcome. 

You could paint the view, but it was overdone and frankly, expected.

Maybe you could dig deep into the stinging pain in your chest you felt the night before and scoop it up, smear it across the blank whiteness, and stain it with your embarrassment and indignation.

Sighing deeply, you lean back on the stool, setting your paintbrush down and rubbing the back of your neck.

“Art block can be a bitch, huh?” 

You whirl around to find a tall man with a mop of white hair approaching you with his hands in his bathrobe pockets, wearing a charming, lopsided smile. 

“Gojo-san,” you immediately straighten and he waves your formalities away. 

“Satoru,” he says and looks you up and down. “You left last night. After dessert. Smart.”

Letting out a gust of breath you didn’t know you were holding, you tilt your head to the side in confusion. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, just your parents pulling us into the parlor for some charades,” he chuckles at the recollection, and this close, you can’t help but notice even his eyelashes are the color of powdery white snow. “It’s been a while since I went on a family getaway. I’m not much of a homey son, you see. I rarely spend time with family and would much rather be handling business.”

“Ha,” you snort, and then, slap a hand over your mouth as if to cover for your mistake. 

Though word in your world runs rampant, no news came faster (even to a wallflower like you) of how rebellious and unorthodox the Gojo family’s only son was.

Satoru’s bright eyes, the color of a melted icy river in the middle of summer, seems to twinkle at your slip-up.

“Did I say something amusing?”

You quickly shake your head, though your warm cheeks betray you. “N-no, Gojo-s—Satoru.”

Cursing your careless mouth and actions, you take this moment to turn back to your canvas, picking up your paintbrush and pretending to concentrate on your next stroke.

Undeterred by your lack of forthcoming conversation, you feel him approaching you from the back, coming to stand over your shoulder.

“You know, if you wanted to lie, you could’ve done so by telling me how I absolutely do not deserve the Gojo Chairman position.” Those eyes sparkle with barely concealed mirth. “Or, don’t you agree with what everyone else is saying?” 

Gaping, you turn to him. “Wh—Satoru, that’s a cruel thing for me to say to someone I barely know!”

That amused grin never left his sightly lips, and you couldn’t help but notice how well-moisturized they were. Not even a dry fleck of skin on them, despite the atrociously cold weather.

As if noticing your train of thought, Gojo smiles and changes the subject. “It’s awfully cold out here. Why are you painting in the middle of such freezing weather?”

The words tumble past your defenses before you could rein them in, yet another slip up from your distracted morning. “I find the cold air to be refreshing. It helps to clear my mind.”

Gojo stands there, back straight, and for a single moment, you can imagine him in the middle of a boardroom, scrutinizing a subordinate and catching them in the middle of a flimsy lie.

But, you were not his employee, and Satoru was a welcomed guest under your roof. He could not overstep his boundaries.

“I see.” 

It seems he has something he wants to say but can’t put forth; the minute struggle in those cerulean blue eyes gives away a deeper meaning. The vulnerable connection that trembles between both your held gazes dissipates like fine mist—never there in the first place—and he’s back to being his usual cryptic, teasing self.

“I shall leave you alone then, Miss Y/N. Ah, my apologies.” He smacks his forehead, correcting his mistake instantly. 

“Wrong name. I hope you have a wonderful painting session… Mrs. Itadori to-be.”

That night, you return to the huge double rooms to find your fiance out cold.

His broad back turned towards the wall, arm dangling from the edge of the huge, ornate sofa your mother personally sourced from Istanbul. You try and fail to hide your surprise, wondering what he’s done to venture into your part of the room.

The memories twist and turn, rising like black smoke from the ashes of your dismay and stinging disappointment at how petty Sukuna could be.

“You’re sleeping on the sofa,” he mumbles, “I don’t do well with company in my bed.” 

You’re about to argue, when he takes the room, slamming the door closed and clicking it shut. At least the maids had left out some pillows and a blanket on the sofa for you both to divide and claim… but if Sukuna didn’t want you near him, shouldn’t he be a gentleman and take the couch instead? 

There’s no soothing the prickling shame you feel when you realize your fiance has given you the cold shoulder in a space that belongs to your family. Belonged to you. Is this how he will treat me for the entire marriage? You approach the door, about to bang on it with your fists when you hear the first stirrings of a snore. 

Faltering, you bite your lower lip. To risk waking Sukuna up and infuriating him further which would ruin the entire arrangement your family was trying to secure for you… or to bite your tongue for a night and hope he would be more forgiving come morning? 

You sighed, plodding over to the sofa, still in your dress which Okura-san sourced straight from an underground Chinese designer—the same talent Sukuna’s last ex-girlfriend, Sora Hyuk, was fond of. Thumbing the hem, you feel like tearing it off and throwing it into the fireplace, your cheeks warm with embarrassment and resentment.

If only your parents could see you now. 

The truth was, you could tell them what Sukuna had done—how he had embarrassed you so openly and without hesitation right in the heart of your vacation home. But, knowing your parents and how diligent they were with moving up the ladder, your complaints would be nothing but fodder for them to sneer at when they were both alone.

A daughter is nothing but a bartering chip. That is what your mother had once told you. 

And that is why, despite how coldly Sukuna had locked you out of the shared room, you took comfort in the antechamber where no one, not even the maids, could come in without your permission. 

Good thing the fire is burning, you thought, as you kicked off your slippers and sank into the soft couch, trying to drift off into an uneasy sleep. I'll count that as a small blessing for today.

Blinking back the painful reminder, you’re about to roughly shake him off the sofa, marching towards him with your expression scrunched up in anger.

Grabbing his shoulder, you give it a push, and he barely moves.

“Oi,” you huff. “Wake up. You’re in my spot.”

Another push. Sukuna doesn’t even groan.

Suddenly, a chilling sensation seizes over you. Without wasting time, you flip him onto his back, bracing yourself on the edge of the wide sofa. 

Sukuna’s eyes are rolled back into his head, the whites of them shining under the warm, orange light of the chandelier above. You scream and try to shake him, smacking his shoulder to rouse him back from unconsciousness. When he doesn’t move, you grab the first thing you see—a cup of tea you were halfway drinking in the morning, long cold and still with the tea bag attached—and throw it right into his face.

Immediately, his eyes snap back, pupils smaller than pinpricks as he roughly grasps you, dragging you under his bigger build.

Flecks of black tea fall into your face, almost dripping into your wide open mouth, frozen in a mid-shriek.

“What the fuck did you do?” He snarls, and without warning, the tea bag clinging for its dear life on top of his head slides off his pink locks and plops right onto your cheek. 

Sukuna grabs it and brings it closer to his face, sneering at the small brown-soaked sachet and tossing it over his shoulder with his scarily fast reflexes.

“You weren’t responding,” you stutter, pointing one trembling finger to his eyes. “And your eyes were rolled back. I—I thought you were having a seizure.”

“I wasn’t.” His nostrils flare, and those piercing red-brown eyes feel like they could dig right into your soul; scooping up your second-hand embarrassment and smearing it all over your shell-shocked face. “You had no fucking right to pull such a stunt on me—who the fuck do you think you are?”

It’s the most he’s ever spoke to you, and it riles you up how defensive he’s being—like you were some nuisance of a toddler purposely destroying his expensive things and not someone who was trying to save his fucking life.

Who did this man take you for?

You open your mouth, but he beats you to the punch. 

“Don’t ever touch me without my permission. Do you understand me?” 

You snap your mouth close, feeling the chagrin and indignation brimming behind your eyes. If he didn’t let you go right this instant, you were going to burst out in tears right in front of him—an act which would surely annoy him more rather than make him suddenly tender to your afflictions. 

It’s like he doesn't even have a heart.

Thankfully, Sukuna releases your wrists and rolls off you. 

“We both can’t sleep on the sofa since it’s fucking stained with tea—no thanks to you.” His expression is like someone had shoved sour powder down his throat. “I suppose… there’s the room.”

You don’t even try to hide the disbelieving confusion bleeding across your face. This man who nearly threw a fit because you had tried to resuscitate him… was buying into the idea of sharing a bed with you? 

“But, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you without your permission?”

An honest inquiry. You had only wanted to remind him of the words he said to you in case he thought you hadn’t clocked it in.

However, the reaction you receive confirms everything you implicitly knew and more: Sukuna, without a doubt, hated your entire guts for reasons unknown to you. 

Those vermillion eyes become glacial, freezing over any attempt at diffusing the tension in this situation you were trying your hardest to salvage. 

“Who said you would be on the bed?” He gestures behind his back, towards the room you were forbidden from sleeping in despite your family name stamped on this lodge.

“The floor’s comfy,” his callous words chill you right to your soul; you think you might actually start to lose it because of how cruel he’s being to you. “You can take it, can’t you?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you physically have to will the tears away—not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. 

“Yes,” you murmur softly, turning your gaze to the floor. 

You have to do this—you don't have a choice. 

For the sake of this arrangement. For the sake of your father’s business. 

“You can take the bed. I’ll take the floor… Itadori-san.” 

After another day in the mountains, your mother thought it was a good idea to bond with you over a foot massage. 

There’s a Thai massage parlor down at the base of the mountain, their herbal baths and footstone rubs rumored to cure even the worst altitude sickness. Driving past the winding mountainous edge slowly, the car ride was bumpy, jolting you with jerkish movements that make your head spin. As the Range Rover idles to a stop, the driver opens the doors, and your mother steps out, barely paying him any attention.

Meanwhile, you turn to the older driver and whisper, “Thank you,” while handing him a ¥1,000 bill. He takes it with a bright grin, tips his hat, and waits inside the humming vehicle as you both get started on your pampering session. 

“Sit here, Y/N,” Lia waves you over, completely ignoring the masseuse ushering her to another seat further back.

You follow your mother obediently, taking the reclining chair next to her. 

The leather creaks under your weight as you slowly slide to a comfortable position. Glancing at your mother, you’re surprised to see her eyes sparkling, and she’s close enough to grip your arm, excitedly shaking your shoulder. “So?” she demands, and you give her a confused look.

“So… what?”

“Sukuna, you dummy,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. If there was a man here, he would stop dead in his tracks, enamored by your mother’s alluring and natural sass. 

Thankfully, the masseuses were all foreign women, and as they washed your feet with soap and warm water, you hesitantly updated here about your living situation with Sukuna.

“He’s nice enough,” you mumble weakly. Lia taps her milky white French tips on the chair’s arm, waiting for you to add more. 

“Um.” You flounder. “He’s a heavy sleeper, too—barely moves when we sleep next to each other.”

Another lame addition. This time, her nose crinkles. If only she could be a fly on your bedroom wall, seeing how Sukuna treats you with disdain and exasperation; making you sleep on the floor while he hogs the king-sized bed all for himself.

“It sounds like you’re both barely speaking to one another,” Lia deduces, arching a perfectly groomed brow. “Is that right?” 

You deflate. If there’s one person in the world who can call you out on your bullshit, it would be the woman who birthed and raised you. “Yes.” You finally admit. “I can’t seem to crack through him, mom. He’s so guarded.”

At your rising frustration, she hums and leans back, eyes falling close. You follow the same, feeling the older masseuse’s firm knuckles rubbing up and down your aching Achilles tendon. 

There’s nothing filling your senses but the smell of lemongrass oil and the warmth of the heaters blowing hot air circulating around the room. Someone places a cup of tea and biscuits on your left side table, and you open your eyes; picking up the brew and enjoying the sourish sweet tang of lemongrass tea on your tongue.

“Sukuna-san is a notoriously hard man to know because of his upbringing.”

You pause, cup hovering close to your lips. Setting it down on the lacquered wood table with a crisp click, you frown. 

“What do you mean, mom?” 

Lia opens her eyes, staring up the ceiling as she rummages in her memories for a recollection you weren’t aware of. 

“Sukuna-san’s mother—Kasumi—passed away when he was just 18. Wasuke, his father, followed her 3 years after, and they made Jin Itadori heir because Sukuna fled Tokyo and stayed in Madrid for almost a decade.”

Filled with curiosity, you furrow your brows. “Did they say why he left home in such a rush?” 

“No one knows,” your mother clarifies. “But, one day, he showed up, and Jin took him back in—the prodigal brother making his return.”

“I bet it would’ve been interesting to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” you snort.

Lia gives you a look. “It wasn’t. I heard the rumors that both brothers were more than estranged—they barely spoke to each other in that decade when Sukuna was missing. But, Jin has always been a kind man, and he let his brother’s misdoings slide—just wanting him to come back home.”

You feel a begrudging sense of respect for the younger Itadori twin. “He seems more like my match than Sukuna-san.”

Your words were meant to be a joke, but it rubs Lia the wrong way. She scowls, lifting a brow. “Don’t you even dare to think of something like that, Y/N.” 

Instantly chastised, you quieten. Lia continues, on a roll from your careless remark. 

“Jin-san loves his wife too much—she passed away during childbirth and he treasures Yuuji more than any gold in this world. He would not spare you a second look, and so, Sukuna was chosen for you.”

“But, why?” 

Frustration bedevils you, and you spew out the first question on your mind. “Why would Sukuna-san be a better match for me? We have nothing in common.”

The masseuses are pretending not to listen in to the conversation, heads bent low and focusing all their attention on melting away the stress that was mounting more and more with every passing second you spent in your mother’s presence.

Lia’s left eye twitches, a sign she’s growing more irritated by the second. “Y/N, don’t spit in fate’s face when they give you a golden egg. Sukuna-san is perfect for you because he’s not picky. He would have anyone familiar with the ways of our society… even if they call you a Wisteria Woman to your face.”

Hurt bleeds through her tone, and you’re reminded once again of how low your family standing is compared to the Itadoris. While they were a family from old transportation money back during Tokyo’s electrical motor boom, your family rode on the backs of your grandfather’s standing to give your father’s ideas a chance to win over prickly investors. 

Eventually, he clawed his way through the world of politics through grit and a good dose of ass-kissing, earning a cushy spot at the top where he’s starting to see his results flourish—the first one being your marriage to a well-established house.

But, it wasn’t always a smooth journey to where your family was now. 

Your mother had to endure years of other rich wives' subtle digging and whispers behind palms—calling her a “Wisteria Woman”—mocking her patience in clinging onto your father as he steadily rose to popularity; calling her a foolish woman only concerned with social status.

It was an insincere attempt at making her an object of ridicule, at best. Your grandfather’s wealth as the king of department stores before his demise could buy over any of these small family’s trust funds three times over.

“They don’t know what they’re saying, mom,” you remind her. “You’ve always stood by dad’s side because you believed in the man he could become one day. And it’s paid off—they’re the ones eating their words now.”

Lia fixes her gaze on you, her expression softening. You think she might even reach out and pat your head. But, she only gives you a single piece of advice, further solidifying that despite all your protests, your marriage to Sukuna has already been woven in the threads of fate long before you were even aware of it. 

“Y/N, I want you to remember this well—no matter what these people say to your face or whisper behind your back... don’t you ever give them the satisfaction of seeing that they’re right.”

a/n. drama on the mountains alert! drama on the mountains alert!

btw feedbacks and reblogs will always be loved <3 thank you for supporting my story thus far i luv u

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my work, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms. and claim as your own

[churipu]

( OO2 ) ★ dude (romantically) , gojo satoru

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing, 2006 highschool era, one sided enemies to lovers (alias u hate him bcs of "reasons", and u think he hates him too), gojo being such a fucking tease i love hate him so much, a lot of cringe and weird pet names from gojo bcs he's kind of a little shit, you being mean to him and you make him sad (but you'll make up dwdw, i don't need angst rn), um...kissing (yhyh u guys kissed, so what >:() // wc: 4.0k

ENTRY ( OO2 ) OF THE "INTO THE IPINVERSE" MILESTONE

"i hate you." "say that again?"

tags: @sad-darksoul, @sweeneyblue1, @idkuluka, @colorful-happy-shit

there are a lot of moments that you hate in life, but with all due respect, meeting gojo satoru has got to be at the top of your fucking list.

white hair, blue eyes deeper than the ocean. god, why does he have to be so pretty? why couldn't he be born with no hair and no eyes at all? because that, that would make it easier to hate him completely — yes, you're implying that he's physically attractive.

"hey, apple pie," gojo sings out, slinging an arm over your shoulder, "i missed you."

you pushed him away harshly, "don't call me that, gojo. and i don't fucking miss you," a strained whine escaped his throat as he feel the distance in between you both widen at your push.

"come on, sugar bear."

"jesus christ, stop calling me those fucking nicknames." you seethe out at him, standing up to walk away — escaping this hell, escaping gojo satoru and whatever tricks he had up in his sleeve.

"i know you like them," gojo sings out, skipping to catch up with you. shoving both of his hands inside his pockets, "come on, annoyed acrylic nail."

you stopped for a bit, amazed at the nickname. so amazed that you almost actually pulled out a laugh card at him — god, he's insufferable, "what the fuck was that nickname?"

"you kiss your mother with that mouth?" gojo asks, leaning down a bit to put his ugly face up close to yours. frankly, it's frustrating because he's an absolute beauty, what a prick.

"my mother's dead."

gojo widened his eyes a tad bit, "my god — pumpkin, it was just a saying." he sighs, scratching his nape awkwardly, "sorry for your loss."

you rolled your eyes, continuing your aimless walk. the sole point of this walk was to avoid the male, yet here he was, walking alongside you. silently. as you turned corners after corners, he trailed behind you, turning the same corners after corners.

"can you," i look at him, "leave me alone? why the hell are you following me?"

gojo shrugs, "no reason. can't i do that now?" you shook your head, "and why not?"

"this is — stalking. an act of following me around, i feel intimidated. do you want me to file a report, huh? huh?" gojo chuckles at your ramble, finding you quite adorable; in his eyes, you were like this small creature, trying to be intimidating.

"definitely not." he chuckled, "come on, chatterbox. you should let me take you out sometimes, what d'ya' think? sounds good?"

"no. just — don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't even breathe the same air as i am," you muttered out, flipping your middle finger at the male out of annoyance making him guffaw.

his slender fingers grabbed your hand, pushing it down gently, "are you implying that i should die?" his voice came out cheeky and teasing.

"yes."

he rolled his eyes, "you're gonna miss me when i do actually die, bet you'll cry and say y'miss me." the male laid his hand on top of your head — patting it lightly, "come on, bonbon. let me take you out, for food, for smoothies, for desserts. anything you want, i'll give it to you."

you heaved out a sigh, "gojo, no — just, no. and leave me alone."

the male eyes you, "you hang out just fine with suguru. all sunshine and rainbows, why d' you not give me the same treatment, huh?" he questions, almost offended at the thought of both you and suguru laughing and joking in front of him.

"'cause you're not him, obviously."

gojo furrowed his brows, expression filled with frustration, "what does that even mean? what's so different about suguru and i? he's a good guy, but 'm a good guy too. right?" he asks, voice low and meek.

"just — shut up, alright? leave me alone."

this time, the male complied; refusing to trail your figure as you disappeared around the corner. his eyes following you until you were gone, chewing on his lip in annoyance.

he didn't understand you, in his eyes you were like a lost cause. and it perturbed him, his peace, his life. the male is dying to know whatever the hell he'd done wrong to make you hate him so much, whether it being his constant nickname for you or was it because of the fact that he's always there to make fun of you?

gojo wouldn't be this bothered if you were like this to everyone. however — the fact is that you're only like this to him. and why? he didn't know.

and he hates it.

very helpful google.

the teen boy threw his head back, sighing out loudly — a few hours since that conversation with you and he still hasn't been able to get you out of his mind.

"what'cha doing?" a shadow peered over him, the white haired male fluttered his eyes open slowly; the afternoon sun gracing his face as he tries to make out who the person above him was.

"nothing," he muffled out, looking to the side — geto chuckled, jumping over the male's head before taking a seat next to him, "did you just jump over my head?"

"mhm," geto hums, "so? is it about y/n?"

gojo looks at his friend, "was it that obvious?" geto chuckled, nodding his head mutely, "try to think about it — as far as we've known each other, what the hell have i ever done wrong to them? i'm so lost."

"who knows? maybe they like you."

gojo rolled his eyes, "who in their right mind, would act like that to the person they like? that's just stupid." geto chuckled.

"people like y/n obviously."

the white haired male huffs out in defeat, "is it because of the weird nicknames? in my opinion, they're really cute. i mean — pumpkin, sugar bear, apple pie? you'd like to call your partner that too, right?" he babbles out, still in trance, wondering what he ever did wrong to you.

geto spared a glance at his friend, "no, that's stupid. it's pretty cringe," he honestly informed.

gojo's jaw tightened in response as he stared at his friend in betrayal, his lips parted as he wanted to deliver something — but the blue eyed male slowly shuts his mouth, pondering for a bit before delivering his comment, "okay, you're partly right. but i enjoy calling them that. they're cute, and my nicknames are cute." he pouted, his glasses slipping down a bit.

"annoyed acrylic nail? really? you can do better than that, satoru."

gojo's head snapped towards geto, "how'd you know about that one?" he narrowed his eyes.

"y/n, who else?"

"traitor. and mind you, i got that from a quiz i was playing on the internet."

geto tittered out in pure amusement, "they were just telling me about what happened," he explained, "and boy, was it interesting to say the least."

"what'd they say about me?" gojo asks, his voice soft. almost scared to question his friend, scared to hear about how you'd describe him — despite being this, "calm", "coolheaded" man he portrays, when it comes to you, it felt like judgement day.

"oh, nothing much," geto uttered out calmly, "how they can't stand you sometimes and how you maunder out the oddest nicknames on earth — oh, and how they find you physically attractive." geto finds himself whispering the last part.

geto was one to say the truth about these kind of things. except, he's now being a little cupid, alias . . . you never told geto that gojo is physically attractive. but the first two comments were the absolute truth.

"they did?" how cute.

geto nods his head mutely, "maybe you should go meet them, they were pretty intent on describing you as quote unquote, the most attractive boy they have ever met," the lie rolled over his tongue smoothly that gojo couldn't help but to grin widely.

"tell me about it, suguru. please, please?"

geto was most delighted to do so. the male enjoying this banter more than anything — if he wanted one result, it was to get you and gojo together. frankly, he finds it quite the mediocrity that you and gojo aren't in an established relationship as of now.

"they were saying how you have these pretty blue eyes that they'd love to look at every hour," geto started, "and how they actually don't mind some of your nicknames — like, sugar bear. they find it endearing."

little bastard. gojo was smiling like a fool right now, his long legs crossed happily as he sighed out in content, "i fucking knew it."

"well, what're you waiting for?"

gojo hops up, peering down at geto who was still seated, "i owe you one, suguru," geto chuckled, shaking his head.

oh, he owed me more than one. geto thinks to himself, waving his friend goodbye.

"hey, sugar bear." gojo confidently approached you, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk on his face, "i missed you."

groaning out in response, you covered your ears with the palm of your hands; not wanting to engage in the conversation right as it started. gojo chuckles softly, circling his fingers around your wrists, pulling them away from your ears, "come on, why're you always so mean to me?"

"you get on my fucking nerves. asswipe." you muttered out, pulling your wrists away, "and don't touch me."

gojo winced, "ouch. so, heard from someone that you called me attractive, huh?" his eyebrows danced up and down in delight, as if he was mocking you.

you arched your brow in confusion, because for all you know. one, you never said that to anyone. two, even if you did find him attractive, you didn't remember ever telling that to just anyone — hell, you don't remember telling anyone about it either.

"excuse you?" gojo gave you a lop-sided grin.

"so? why're you keeping up with the attitude?" he whispers out, shaking his head.

"gojo, what the fuck? who did you hear that from?" you interrogated the male, one of your hand resting on your hips, "whoever the fuck gave you that information is making shit up — no, i don't find you attractive."

the male rolled his eyes at your stubborn demeanor. well, you weren't particularly stubborn; you were partly framed at this point since you don't remember ever saying that to anyone.

"come on, why'd you have to lie to me? it's not like 'm gonna be angry or anything," you sent a sharp glare at him, because he is wrong for saying that — you made it clear you never expressed that forbidden thought to anyone. so why was he saying this to you?

"gojo—"

"why do you call suguru by his first name but me by my surname?" gojo cuts you off.

"gojo, listen—"

before you could say anything else, the male confidently hushes you down, yet again cutting your words off. and if there's anything else you hated more than gojo satoru, it's being interrupted while you were talking.

"gojo, respectfully, shut the fuck up." you scowled at him, and that indeed managed to shut him up almost immediately — the glare you had in your eyes signifying that you were actually serious. gojo can't help but to swallow the non-existent lump in his throat at the sight.

"i never said anything about you being attractive, and whoever the fuck said that to you is a pathological liar. this is getting tiring," you slowly, and calmly tell him. way too calmly for his liking, "you're bothering me. so with all due respect, can you like . . . maybe, leave me the fuck alone and never talk to me unless it's mission related. it's fucking annoying."

gojo was silent. he was clueless of how to react, a part of him wanted to get angry, he has so much questions to ask you. but another part of him just wanted to lay down low and walk away. and gojo went after the latter.

his stomach churned as he processed your words silently, his smile dropping, and his gaze softened. the male inhaled sharply before nodding his head, "okay, sorry."

and he turned his heels, slowly walking away out of your sight — you stared at his back, watching him walk further and further.

letting a string of curses escape your lips, you felt the urge to reach out to the male. call out to his name. say you were sorry and how you didn't mean that — god, sometimes you think it was you that should respectfully shut the fuck up.

" . . . goj—" you shook your head, deciding to just stay silent for now. for now.

this wasn't the first time you've told him off; and he always comes back the next day, so gojo would probably be the same old him tomorrow, right?

wrong.

gojo was dead set on what he was doing, avoiding you. and damn, he was pretty good at it — that it pisses you off. because why isn't he calling you those weird nicknames? why isn't he trailing after you anymore? why isn't he talking to you? why isn't he batting an eyelash at you? one week and still going strong.

"heartbreak problems?" geto appears beside you, taking a seat next to you, whistling out loudly, "over satoru? that's a first."

you wanted to retort back to the male, but honestly, there isn't any point to it. so you actually bobbed your head, "guess so," you muttered out lowly, balling your fists.

"what happened?"

his question made you side eye him, you were pretty sure gojo would've told him by now — after all, they're quite the pair at school. so this was an honest surprise, "shit happened. i said things that i obviously didn't mean, and now i'm suffering the consequences of my own actions, fairly enough, it fucking sucks."

"so, you're openly admitting to me that you do like him?" geto questioned softly, his eyes traveling to the ceiling of the classroom, "satoru? the one you shit-talk about every single day?"

you grunted, "jus' because i shit-talk him. doesn't mean i hate him," geto blinked feverishly before laughing out, "the hell are you laughing at, asswipe?"

"i told him you found him attractive. but i guess things didn't go as i expected," geto spouts out the truth, his laugh dying down slowly into a small smile, "what did'ya say to him?"

"thought you'd know by now, and that was you? fuck." you murmur out, "i told him to leave me alone and never talk to me unless it's mission related. i said it was annoying— that he was annoying."

geto hums out, "why're you always so angry towards him anyways?"

good question. why?

"that's . . . none of your concern, suguru." you ended up shutting down his question, chewing your lips in pure annoyance.

the male raises his hands up, "right. it's not mine — but it is satoru's, you should talk to him," he advices, "he's been miserable, trust me."

"he looks like he's doing fine, and doesn't he like . . . hate me?" geto raises a brow in disbelief, wondering if you were just plain dumb or too oblivious — or both. the male shakes his head, "oh. i thought he would by now."

"y'think he would do all that thing to you when he hates you?"

"well, it's him so it wouldn't be surprising. really." you chuckled out hoarsely, "and are you really giving me advice right now? because i can't fucking believe i'm actually getting an advice from you out of all people."

"that offended me." he smiled.

"well, sorry. i've never taken you for the advice giver type of person, so? is it really my fault?" you questioned, making the male roll his eyes in response.

"you have a man to chase, why are you still talking to me?"

right. you did, "bye suguru, i owe you one."

geto sighs out, remembering the same words that gojo had said to him a week before — and how the tables have turned. he was thoroughly enjoying this all.

"gojo."

the male stopped when heard your voice. your sweet, loving voice. oh how he missed it — your voice, your glare, you. finally sparing his first glance at you after a week.

it was hard. he's miserable. he wanted to approach you, he wanted to call you the nicknames he'd searched on google before morning comes, he wanted to talk to you even if it ended up on you scolding him with very nice words, he wanted to see you. gojo just wanted to see you.

the white haired male has never felt so miserable in his life. this was the farthest he has ever been from you, and it was honestly killing him inside.

"what?" he asks, wondering if he had done yet again, something to make you approach him first like such. because one thing he was confident in is that, you, y/n l/n, would never approach him for anything besides missions or . . . anger, "what did i do wrong this time? i didn't talk to you like you told me to. so?"

"you're fucking unbearable." you muttered out, fists balling tightly — very much angry at him, and at yourself.

gojo raises a brow, "i'm unbearable? what makes you think you can come up to me and tell me that?" he asks you, his voice soft, and a ghast of his blue eyes reflecting behind the dark lenses of his glasses.

"god, i hate you so much."

no, no, no. it wasn't supposed to go this way, you weren't supposed to say that you hated him — and the way gojo furrowed his brows at your statement made your heart drop. why couldn't you just mutter out the word "sorry" and everything would be back to normal.

when people tell you that, "sorry", "thank you", and "please" are the hardest words to say. you didn't take it literally — but now that you were in a position to say one of them, you could finally agree on it. why was it so hard to mutter out a five letter word?

"okay, you made it clear last week. what else do y'want me to say?" he muffled out lightly.

"i hate you." you repeated, "so fucking much."

gojo shakes his head, prompting to ignore you. he turned his heels and began to step away from you. he didn't need anymore hurtful words from you; from someone he deeply has feelings for, "don't fucking walk away," he heard you speak.

"don't . . . walk away." your voice dropped down a tone, "please."

the male hesitated, but he stopped walking in the end. gojo had only stepped away a few times and he couldn't fucking stand it, the way you called out to him — lord, if this hasn't been so serious. he swore he would be running to you right now, how he wanted to have you in his arms right now, even if it ended up with you pushing him away. he would take the chance.

it was better than having to ignore you like this.

"what?" he breathes out again, this time a little curious to what you had to say.

you blinked, parting your lips to say something, but nothing would come out. a few seconds passed, and your lips are still parted. and you were starting to grow desperate, desperate to say something — anything at this point. anything to make the male stay, to stop him from walking away.

"y/n . . . i don't have time for this." he mutters out, trying to keep his act up, even if he was fighting back the urge to just drop everything and run to you.

"no, wait. gojo— satoru." it took one specific word to roll over your tongue, and his heart was racing rapidly. his cerulean eyes intently looking at you from behind the dark lenses, "please, i . . . i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, so please don't walk away from me. don't do that again."

gojo felt his heart began to pound. the male stood there, his breathing growing rapid, "i didn't mean what i said to you — it was my fault. i'm fucking miserable, satoru. i don't know what to do," you tell him, voice lacing in desperateness, "i fucking hate you for this. i swear to god, it's disgusting . . . the feelings. i've never felt like this before and i hate it. i think about you all damn time, i hate you because why the fuck am i feeling like this? i can't stop, satoru."

the male parted his lips to respond, but you cut him off, continuing your words. groggily fiddling with your uniform, brows furrowed, eyes glassy, you continued, "so don't fucking walk away from me. don't fucking ignore me, please."

it took gojo no time to stride over to you, "fuck. do you know how fucking miserable i was for one. whole. week? do you think i wanted to ignore you? to not look at you?" his large hands cupped both side of your face, "i was fucking miserable, y/n. i just wanted you to know how much i fucking missed you. one day," he raises up a finger, "one day felt like a whole year, i can't stand it much longer. so, please — don't push me away anymore."

you look up at him, lips slightly parted, "i hate you."

gojo tilted your face up to him, "say that again?"

his fingers traveled down, brushing the skin of your neck vividly. even with his glasses on, you could see his eyes perfectly — and how they gleamed brightly. gojo smiles lightly, using his other hand to grab your right hand, placing your palm on top of his chest. where his heart was. the constant rapid thuds that you could feel against his chest made your heart flutter.

"god, i fucking love you," he breathes out, drawing your face towards his, his lips inclining towards yours — and your mouths fell together, a few seconds passed and gojo pulled back slightly, his lips parted, "i fucking love you, y/n," he whispers softly, capturing your lips into another kiss.

the hand you had on his chest lightly crumpled against his uniform, holding the male in place as you yearned more of the taste of his lips. it was vague, but you could taste strawberries — and . . . cream cheese. pulling away, you stared at him, "dude."

gojo arches a brow, etching your fingers off of his uniform. lacing them together with his — like a perfect puzzle piece, it was like his hand was meant for yours, and yours for his, "what did you say?"

clearing your throat, you said, "dude, but romantically."

the male chuckles, "you ruined our kiss and our moment, for that?" he pressed a kiss onto the tip of your nose, maintaining eye contact, "d'you know how long i've been wanting to do that? to kiss you?"

you shook your head, "no, but did you eat something with strawberries? and cream cheese? i could taste it."

gojo blinks, "oh, yeah. i had some daifuku," he replies, scratching his nape sheepishly, "why did you have to bring that up now, couldn't it wait until later?"

"dude." he looks at you in disbelief.

"but romantically, again." you added, and gojo smiles, "i can't help it — i don't know what to say."

"i do," he pressed a kiss into the hollow of your forehead, "date me. i promise i'll treat you well. i won't call you those nicknames anymore, just — i just need you to be close to me."

"what if i said no?"

"after that kiss?" he pulls away from you.

"kidding, dude."

the male whines, "stop calling me dude," he said, "can't you call me something else? baby? honey? darling? cutie? handsome? none of that?" he asks out.

"dude is pretty romantic." you rolled your eyes, "do you ever hear me calling anyone else with dude?"

he shook his head, "you never call anyone with a nickname anyways." gojo grumbled under his breath, looking away, "fine, what do you prefer? i don't do well with — nicknames."

"i like the sound of baby, or handsome. i am handsome, right? right?" you rolled your eyes, but gave out a subtle nod, "i knew it, you did find me attractive after all."

"shut up or i'm sticking with dude."

"no," he brushes his lips against your cheek, "i'm baby now. and you — you're sugar bear, pumpkin, apple pie, annoyed acrylic nail, and more to come."

"didn't you say you won't call me those nicknames anymore?" you questioned him with a light smile.

"uh . . . no, you heard wrong."

"okay, dude." you chuckled.

"y/n!" he whines.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[neyafromfrance95]

I’m gonna be real here but your understanding of l Sauron and Galadriel and their relationship is far superior to the writers. It gives me chills. If you were one of the writers on board, the show would be next level.

I don’t think they’re clever enough to dive into it like that and aren’t even bold enough either, so we have to keep telling ourselves that we aren’t going to get Haladriel complexity sadly we might not even get Galadriel being complex since they’re already mellowing her down

omg, thank you! you made me blush fr :D

however, i think i simply interpret and put into words what we are actually getting. it's just that what we are getting is very subtle and subtextual. smtms vague bc they got no guts to more explicidly convey what i'm 100% sure they want to convey.

think about the already iconic "to worship the light of its queen" line. while s2 was airing, a few shippers started referring to sauron's yearning for galadriel as a "worship of the light" and concluded that he thinks everyone in the middle-earth must share his adoration. these takes were based on the subtle details, parallels and metaphors we saw in the show. but i never imagined that they would actually make sauron explicitly confirm this word-for-word! it is actually such an astronomical win for us!

and then galadriel altogether stops her feral and desperate fight when she sees halbrand in front of her. she drops all of her defenses for a moment and just looks at him. then when he recites his s1 speech, she closes her eyes for a second! bc her feelings for halbrand are so intense! this scene was literally a confirmation that galadriel loves halbrand, as we have suspected!

but yeah, right now, i'm very anxious about galadriel's characterization and arc in the future seasons. the ending made it seem like she suddenly fully overcame her darkness and was calmer.

and listen, while lotr!galadriel is calmer, she has never been this stay-at-home tradwife the incelbros say she is! she is thirsty for power! lotr!galadriel wants power more than trop!galadriel does, trop hasn't really tapped into galadriel's power hunger at all. and lotr!galadriel is still devoted to her fight against sauron! think about it, she doesn't go to valinor when celebrian does and she doesn't stay in the middle-earth while celeborn does! she only leaves the middle-earth for valinor when sauron is gone! and what about the crazy scary dark!galadriel when she is offered the one ring? what about the fact that she only passes the test after 3000 years and until then her heart greatly desires what sauron offers her? and how sad her tone is when she says she has passed the test (which doesn't even mean she has slain *him* in her heart, as her taking nenya to valinor can mean that she still holds onto their connection)?

my hope right now is that the ending was deliberately misleading and that the wound made by the crown will have a side effect on her.

unlike the majority of the shippers in our fandom, i never believed that galadriel would give in to sauron. not just bc her gaze is fixed on the light above as finrod taught her, but bc her pride wouldn't allow it. still, there are other ways to make her inadvertently succumb to the darkness! she was already on that path in s1 when her search for sauron slowly started to turn her into his mirror. their mind communication and the dark powers sauron could share with her through their bound could make her even more obsessed with slaying him herself, and that could be conflicted with her feelings for halbrand who she slowly realizes indeed is sauron.

it simply makes 0 sense for her to be obsessed beyond the reason with the idea of him for centuries and then get over it after one fight where she actually faces him!

anyways, fingers crossed that the incelbros don't get their way and the writers don't cater to the misogynistic demographic 🤞

[sluttybwunni]

hunger (m)

masterpost : recent

▎wc: 2.6k

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (fem)Reader

summary : luffy can never suppress his appetite once he’s hungry, especially not when he’s craving you.

‎ ‎ ‎

warnings : switch!luffy, switch!reader, post-timeskip luffy, established relationship, use of devil fruit, established relationship, swearing, kissing, unprotected sex (wrap it my guys, wrap it), kitchen sex, mating press, sort of rough if you squint, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), fingering, praise kink, overstimulation. mention of nosebleed.

‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎

luffy has always been a big eater so it didn’t shock you when he randomly pounced into the kitchen, finding you sitting on the counter enjoying some raspberries and the faint rays of sun that peeked in through the window. “(name)~” luffy sang making his way towards you. “it’s so chilly and boring today” he continued, leaning his head onto your thighs as he huffed. 

you winced slightly, feeling the coolness of his cheeks make contact with your skin. “yeah...” you voiced out dryly. luffy looks up at you before helping himself to the bowl beside you. it was quite silent on the sunny today, most of the strawhats immersed with their own little tasks─ trying to make use of the calmness. you pop another raspberry into your mouth looking down at luffy’s half lidded eyes. 

the silence continues though you keep eye contact with him as you consume another sweet but sour delight. looking at him closely, you can see the way his eyes carry a small gleam of interest as the corners of his lips are curved in a odd frown. his dark orbs never leave your lips, breath slightly hitching when you slowly lick the fruity juice off them.

you pondered for a moment wondering why he glared so intensely. “luffy must be hungry.” you think to yourself placing your hands onto the surface, opting to hop off from the counter. but he lifts his head and flashes you a confused look as you slide down. “wait where you going?” luffy questions, his arms automatically place down on either side of the counter, entrapping you. “you look hungry, let me make you something” you reply. to your surprise he shakes his head, eyes boring into yours. 

maybe it was the close proximity that turned the chilled spring air into heat, it was warm. he was warm. “lu..?” you whisper out, though he doesn’t reply─ instead closing the distance between you two.

 “don’t move” luffy says before placing his straw hat onto your head and attaching his lips to yours. the door of the kitchen is agape, anyone on the ship could walk in at any moment and though you can’t seem to stop. your tongues tangle with each other, senses blurry except for how it feels to kiss. despite his earlier command you move closer, he stumbles back a bit wrapping his arms around your middle. 

your chests chase eachother during the passionate exchange, not caring if the dynamic of your stances would cause you both to fall. you break away, keeping him close with your hand tightly around a bundle of his black hair. “we can’t do this here, everyones still up and what if someone waltzes into the ro-”  

“i hate waiting (name), wanna fuck you now.” luffy rasps. “i’ll lock the door kay? please.” you exhale taking in the desperation that crossed his features. 

“fuck” you huff out, knees feeling weak. he looked so captivating, breath unsteady and hair messy. luffy reaches his rubber arm out towards the door grasping onto the handle and pulling it shut in a loud noise that was anything but discreet. you were thankful for the auto-lock sanji put on the door to prevent luffy from rampaging through the fridge during the silence of the night. your grip on his hair loosens. “(name)..” he whines, “your lips.. needa fucking devour you.” you just stare at him before pushing him away. “couch now.” you hiss, fiddling with the waistband of your shorts before joining him. 

luffy falls onto the backrest with a moan. thighs spread cockily and head slacking back. you claim your place on his laps while disregarding your top. eyes filled with yearning. you place your hand in his hair again tilting his head backwards. “so pretty...” he mumbles, the sight of his hat on your head and bare tits making his head spin. luffy practically panting under you untouched made you wonder about the other sounds he’d soon be making. 

your stomach churns, god you love him. he tries to sit up to kiss you, but you push him back down again. “how come your even prettier hm..?” you coo at him, slowly applying friction to his clothed stiff cock whilst tracing his well toned stomach. “you think so?” luffy gives you a droopy smile. “yes love” you reply almost smirking when you feel his hips jeer up at your movements. every inch of him feels so sensitive, everything feels so good while his cock aches so much. 

“stop teasing” he speaks up in a low tone, his previous affectionate expression replaced by a serious one. you let out a surprised moan as he attacks your breast with one hand, and tugs you in with the other kissing you in a much more aggressive manor than before. in a swift movement you find yourself laid back on the seat of the couch. luffy quickly pulls off his already undone shirt, not yielding for long before as continuing the attack on your chest─ this time with his lips. your breath hitches from the sensation feeling his tongue trace out small shapes over your nipples. 

“now you’re teasing” you croak out, almost yelping out when he gently bites your nipple. luffy lets out his classic laugh before going down on you, coming face to face with your sodden panties. he marvels for a moment, almost questioning if all this was for him. his fingers trace over the wet area, earning a string of whines from you. god you whine so prettily for him, he can’t wait to wreck you. luffy wastes no more time, harshly tugging your panties off with a little help from you before placing his head between your now spread thighs. 

“thank you for the meal” he whispers with a grin, tongue now darting against your folds. “lu!!” you cry, a hand immediately flying to his hair. he licks and swipes at your clit before pushing his tongue past your walls. he laps at you cunt desperately, whining and bumping his nose against your clit so wonderfully. you choke out again, squeezing your thighs against his head─ but luffy didn’t mind. infact he gripped his hands on them so he could better pleasure you. it felt so blissful. 

you pushed your hips further into him, the vibrations of his groans truly providing ecstasy. you felt your stomach knot, and despite your consciousness telling you not to make too much noise you quickly let loose no longer holding back your moans. “feels good. fuck- haah” you finally bottom out, the noises only further encourage your captain to make a mess of you. speeding up his movements and bringing the pad of his thumb to your clit. 

all it took was the swift pressure his thumb applied to drive you off the edge. “oh gosh m’gonna cum. cumming...!!” 

“luffy” you heave, feeling your juices spill out onto his tongue, going blank from the pleasure that washed over you. he greedily takes all you had to offer, but he doesn't stop, continuing his movements throughout your high. “t-too much..” you squirm gripping tighter on his hair. “cmon.. can’t you take it (name)?” luffy speaks, detaching his mouth from your cunt before bringing his fingers back to it’s lips. before you could answer he delves his fingers into you, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm still lingering ripping out more sounds from your chest. he curls and scissors them not taking any time to wait. “cum again for me pretty, i wanna see your face this time. you can do that for your captain can’t ya?”

“mmm..” you comply despite not knowing if it was even part of your capabilities. luckily you were in good hands, luffy switched the angel of his fingers and stretched them, brushing your spot in the best way. “please, just like that, feels so good-”  you felt your high nearing again, but this time it was different. the knot was building way faster, you couldn’t bear it. luffy brought his face closer to yours, you could tell he was looking at you though your eyes were closed. your chest heaved up and down, face flushed as you came once again. this time squirting all over his fingers.

“you did so well!” luffy smiles giggling before licking his fingers and returning to a serious face. “..and you taste great.” he whispered onto your lips, making sure you taste yourself. he slowly undid his shorts, getting up off of you and sliding his bottoms off. still recovering from your orgasm, it took you a while to notice his bottomless figure─ cock sprung up onto his stomach. but before you could comment he comes and hovers above you. kissing your neck delicately as he starts to pump his length. “gonna make you feel so good now, mkay?” “close your eyes for a moment.” he says in a hushed manner. “but i wanna see your face baby..” you retaliate, though after a few moments you shut your lids anyways. he chuckles lowly shaking his head, "trust me.”

“gear second.” luffy whispers, a hissing sound further holding your attention. you start to feel heat radiate from the man above you. “wait- luffy are you..?” he cuts you off by pushing his cock into your walls.  

the overwhelming warmth and stretch causes you to cry out, toes curling up in pleasure. “h- that feels hot luffy!” you complain, even if your body was reacting pleasantly. he lets out a disbelieved laugh, the way you sucked him in so slowly drawing the noises out of him.

“amazing, you take me so well- (name) haaaa” luffy mewls trying to keep composure so he can fuck the lights out of you. it started off slow, but with each passing thrust it only got hotter and faster. you open your eyes to enjoy the view for a moment, the pink hue radiating off his new form.

“feels great captainn”

“keep going fuck i love it.. you fuck me so well captain!” you jeer, edging him on with such praise earning a shameless moan. luffy never said it aloud, no words were needed to tell how much he loved being called captain. “wanna fuck you like this all the time…love it so much!” he growls lifting your thighs over his broad shoulders deepening his movement.

“god, yes please!!!!” you cry out, the straw hat on your head sliding down slightly covering your face. every movement makes him want to pass out. it’s all so good. he doesn’t want to stop even if his body starts to give out. he pins your hands above your head. the heat exerting his strength. “gonna fill you to the brim, wanna fill you up so badd”

“captain!!” you welp feeling the tip of his heated cock brush your cervix so roughly─ and at that moment, he breaks. a loud moan rips out from his chest as he releases into you coating your walls so beautifully eyes crossing and eyebrows furrowing.

you were so close, the way he manhandled you roughly only further pushed you towards your high. “harder, please… keep going, you filled me up so well- gotta cum” you mewl, practically begging him to keep going.

“hurts..” he croaks, chest now heaving more than before. luffy feels dizzy the overstimulation taking over. you know he’s tired, but your desire to cum always takes the better of you.

“lie down” you rasp. luffy pulls out for a moment falling onto his back as you straddle him, quickly sinking back down on his dick. he winces. “pleasee slow, too much ahh”

“take it for me luffy, your so strong you can take it.” you chant out, bouncing on and off his thighs. his hips stuttered mouth agape as he holds onto your waist. “yes yes m’ so close.” you whimper like crazy, hands shaking against his chest using all your might to help give your boyfriend another orgasm. “luffy…..” you moan, your climax threatening to reach its peak. “it’s okay, hold onto me” he whispers. he raises his hips to match your movements, fucking into you in order to give you the pleasure you deserve.

“love you (name), i love you- so lucky to have a pussy like this all for me!!” luffy professes tears brimming at his eyes from his impending orgasm. “love you so much, please cum with me captain!!” you cry out. “cumming!!!!” he confesses and unable to hold composure. fluids spilling into you once more, his body breaks under your aggressive bounces. you cream onto his cock. eyes shutting in pure arousal convulsing as both of your strained moans fill the room.

luffy gasps out for air, the steam from his second gear slowly clearing. “felt good.. thank you (name)” he struggles to voice out. you slowly lower onto his chest, length still in you─ attempting to recover from the mind blowing feeling.

you pull the hat away from your head, placing it into his before steering in for a kiss. it was gentle- so caring that you could fade away at any moment. you stayed like that for a while, simply enjoying each others warmth as your bodies ceased spasming.

“i’m curious... what drove you so crazy that you had to screw me in the kitchen like this, luffy?” he cocks his head to the side, letting out a throaty laugh. “well your lips drove me crazy.. n suddenly i started thinking of how nice they taste, and how red and puffy they’d look afterwards.” 

“i couldn’t help myself.. sorry!” luffy apologizes, though he didn’t regret anything one bit. you snuggle your face into his neck, giggling before replying. 

“you have one hell of an appetite don’t you captain?” 

“shishishii i guess i do.” he pleads guilty, flashing you his pretty smile before continuing.“what are we gonna do with the couch? sanji’s gonna be pretty mad at us!!”

“he doesn’t have to know..” you smirk, finally letting luffy pull out as you stand up, reaching for your top. you hand him his own garments, the both of you finally getting dressed. luffy’s rubber arm extends to pull you down for a hug. he doesn’t speak, though you can tell he’s happy. physical touch is his love language afterall.

“HEY!! WHO’S LOCKED THE KITCHEN DOOR?” sanji suddenly hisses, fidgeting on the knob momentarily before he finally unlocks it. the three of you make eye contact, not daring to blink. “what are you two up to?” sanji inquires, suspiciously eyeing you then the counter.

uh oh.

 “didn’t stock pile all the food in your bellies did ya? i’m not up to going out for a grocery run with that damned moss head bastard.”

“course not sanji!! we were just..” you dart up, knowing whatever you or luffy say next could result in your key to the kitchen getting confiscated.

“fucking.”

“building legos.”

“eh?” you and luffy simultaneously say, looking at eachother. your face heats up a little stunned at his casual boldness.

“i see” sanji replies in a monotone. you focus on his face, almost shocked when you notice a red liquid start to drip out of his nostrils. 

“h-have fun then.” he blubbers, stumbling out of the room and falling down with a thud. it’s awkwardly silent. trying to understand the situation that just took place.

“should we help him?” luffy comments. you contemplate for a moment before turning back to stare at him. “uuhh nah.”

you both chuckle, luffy opening his mouth to say something again.

“so, about that meal you were gonna cook me?” 

your captains hunger is really something.

©2023 sluttybwunni  ‎   you are not to plagiarize, translate, modify or post my content on tumblr nor any other platforms.

[megamindsecretlair]

Say You Love Me

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Angst. Smut. Cursing, dirty talk, PIV, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), minor D/s elements, all consensual. Allusions to drug use, masturbation.

Summary: After Frankie returned from the trip, he seemed like a different person. More moody and withdrawn. You finally couldn't take it anymore, all the times he snorted drugs and fucked up. You kicked him out and it has been months. After getting scared half to death, you finally admit to yourself that you miss being around Frankie. You decide to clear the air once and for all, getting reacquainted with him. 

Word Count: 7,234k

AO3 Link

A/N: Finally stopped being a baby and decided to write and post this. Idk why this has been plauging my brain, but I enjoy it and I hope you do too. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @soft-persephone @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00 @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @superhoeva @softimgyu @eggnox

You rolled over in bed, stretching your hand across the other side and finding the space cold. Every morning you woke up, reaching out for a body that would no longer be there. No matter how many times you started the night in the middle of the bed, your body was too used to “your” side. 

You sighed, snatching your hand back, and got out of bed. It was approaching midday on Saturday and you were too damn tired to do anything. Work was kicking your ass per usual and your daughter had been up all damn night crying. It took a village to raise a baby. Your daughter had to settle for you.

You looked and felt like hell. You passed a mirror, not bothering to give yourself more than a cursory glance. You knew you looked how you felt and you didn’t want any visual reminders. You went down the hall, checking in on your baby girl, Inez. She was up all damn night so you decided to postpone going to the park today. Let her sleep some of that wayward energy away.

You’d have to find something else to tire her out during the day so that you got some kind of sleep. Inez was far too young to understand why Daddy wasn’t home, but old enough to ask about him. Constantly. And hell if you knew what to say. You didn’t understand it yourself.

Your daughter needed you, so you didn’t get to fall apart like you wanted. You finally closed her bedroom door, walking down the hall once more towards the kitchen. The kitchen was open and spacious enough to feel like you could cook without too many things in the way.

There was a small kitchen island in the middle, where the sink was, and extra counter space to work. You took out ingredients for pancakes, eggs, and bacon. You yawned as you greased the pan with butter, turning to the countertop to start mixing the pancake mix.

You set everything down, reaching into your spice cabinet. You braced yourself to fight with the cabinet door, damn thing had been stuck for months, but it gave way easily. You stumbled a bit and looked at it, testing the cabinet by opening and closing it.

“The hell…” You muttered. You tested the cabinet again. Matter of fact, strange things like that had been happening for a while. Where things that were once loose or in need of fixing magically repaired itself overnight.

Were you sleepwalking and fixing things? Had you imagined that these things were broken? You remembered bitching to Frankie that he needed to stop snorting shit and actually be useful around the house. Some of that was picking a fight because it was more convenient to yell at him than admit how frustrated you were with him, life, or work. 

You closed the cabinet with a frown, making a mental note to investigate it later. As you turned around, you jumped with a scream on your lips. A shadow passed outside of your house. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to yell out for Frankie, that there was a stranger outside. Bastard was no longer there. Your heart raced as you peered out of your kitchen window. Whatever or whoever it had been was too quick. You couldn’t see past a certain angle, as the kitchen was tucked in the corner of the house.

“Shit, shit,” you whispered. You never touched Frankie’s guns, despite how many times he begged to show you how to defend yourself. 

“Why would I need to know how when I have a big strong man to do it for me?” Your words to him echoed in your mind as you backed away from the kitchen slowly, eyes glued to the window. It could be nothing. It could be something. But fuck if you didn’t wish you had listened to Frankie at the moment.

You padded away, barefoot, careful of every creak as if the person or thing outside could hear it. You backed all the way to your bedroom, grabbing a bat. You really didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to have to fend off an attacker. Too many scenarios ran through your mind.

What about your daughter? What about you? How were you going to protect her if this thing or person hit you, hurt you, or killed you? And who the hell does something like this in broad daylight? A fucking psychopath.

You swallowed around a huge dry lump in your throat, feeling your heartbeat in every step you took towards your daughter’s room. 

Faintly, there was a scratching sound. Or perhaps a knock? You couldn’t make it out. It was so quiet in the house, you couldn’t decipher the house settling or an intruder trying to break in. 

You opened Inez’s room by a crack, checking to ensure that she was still asleep and none the wiser. You debated if you should wake her up and stow her in her closet or in yours. No. You needed to make sure that the asshole never made it past you. It was that simple.

You closed her door as softly as possible, inching down the hall towards the back of the house. Towards the source of the noise. It sounded louder. Or maybe you were just getting closer.

Either way, you were nearly to the back door. There was a large shadow there. You could see your locks getting turned. You trembled with fear, but there was only one thought in your head, “Gotta protect my baby.”

The locks gave way just as you raised the bat in your hand. You had a fleeting thought about bringing a bat to a gun fight when a large man let himself into your house, lifted his head, that damn baseball cap moving to reveal chocolate brown eyes and a scruffy beard.

“Francisco Morales!” You harshly whispered, lowering the bat.

Frankie stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, lips puckered in an apology. “Sorry!” He said in the same tone you were using.

A mixture of relief and adrenaline flooded through your system, making you sway. You leaned on the wall for support. Frankie reached out but you held up the bat to keep him away.

“I almost peed my fucking pants!” You furiously whispered.

Frankie looked down at your bare legs. You opted to wear a blue tank and black shorts to bed since you had the heater cranked up to a hundred. Without him as a space heater, going to bed was damn near frigid. 

Heat rushed through you at the look on his face. Despite the tense situation, he still looked ready to devour you. Sex was never your problem. It’d been entirely too long since you felt his touch but that was beside the point. He was still a bastard.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. Damn him. He looked good, sporting dark jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt. The shirt was stretched over his biceps, granting you a view of his golden skin tanned from being outside. He wore his signature cap, curls peeking out from underneath. 

“It’s my house,” you said.

“I mean, yes. But why aren’t you at the park?” He asked.

You stared at him. “What?” 

“You’re usually at the park by now,” he said.

“Are you stalking me?” You asked. You had too many thoughts whirling through your mind and not nearly enough food. Your stomach chose that moment to growl. You placed a hand over your belly, willing it to shut the fuck up. 

Frankie lifted an eyebrow and you scowled at him. “No, I’m not stalking you. I just…” he grew quiet, licking his lips and suddenly looking everywhere but at you.

“Spit it out,” you said. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. You couldn’t begin to imagine what he had up his sleeve at the moment. What fanciful yarn of shit he was getting ready to spin.

“I sort of fix things while you’re gone,” he said slowly. 

“Sort of?” 

“You were always telling me about things I needed to fix. And I never did. I..I wanted to make sure shit worked around here, even when I’m not here.” 

You sagged against the wall, chuckling though there wasn’t a damn thing funny. “That’s you?” You asked.

Well, at least you weren’t going crazy. It was just like Frankie to show up a day late and a dollar short. “So you let yourself into my house while I’m gone?” You asked. You leaned the bat against the wall. You placed a hand over your chest. Your heart was still beating a hundred times per second. 

Frankie stood framed by the doorway, sunlight hitting the back of him and making him glow slightly. He kept one hand on the handle as if he didn’t know he should bolt or stay. 

“It’s my house too,” he said, a deep sigh leaving him. 

“You can’t be here, Frankie. You can’t let yourself in to fix things. I have…I can call someone to come fix it,” you said.

“And have some piece of shit overcharge you or some stranger in here?” 

“It’s not your business anymore,” you whispered. Having Frankie here, in the flesh, while you were half naked, was screwing with your nerves. It had been too long since you'd seen him longer than the time it took to drop your daughter off at Santiago’s where Frankie was staying. 

And he caught you in a particularly vulnerable moment, missing the heat of his skin and the curve of his lips. Frankie turned wide eyes towards you and licked his lips. He dropped his hand from the knob and placed his hands on his lean hips. “Let me at least fix one more thing,” he said.

“Frankie…” You sighed.

“Just one more. And…I won’t come around anymore.” You tried to ignore the trembling in his voice. The thickness of his words and how he forced himself to say it. 

You were tired. And he caught you on a bad day. You knew it was a bad idea, but you moved away and let him enter. He closed the door and locked it, giving you a brief smile before he walked down the hallway. You saw him glance towards your daughter’s room, but he kept moving on towards the kitchen.

You debated throwing on a robe or longer pants. Anything to not make you feel so exposed. But this was your house, dammit. And just because he pushed his way in, didn’t mean that you had to change anything on your side.

Frankie assessed the kitchen and noted your breakfast supplies. “Pancakes?” He asked. 

You nodded. Frankie nodded. It was all so awkward. Staring at him across a chasm of pain and frustration. You’d give anything to run to his side, tuck yourself under his arm, and just breathe in his scent. Feel warmed by his body heat.

“Christ, it’s hot in here,” he said. He took off his cap and wiped sweat from his brow, fixing his hair before returning the cap. He was letting it get too long, the ends curling against his ears. 

You cleared your throat and put yourself to good use by finishing up breakfast. Inez would be up soon and you wanted to get her something to eat. You didn’t know what you would do if she caught Frankie here. She would inevitably ask if he was staying for breakfast. You finished up bacon, making extra…just in case. 

Frankie moved around the kitchen like a phantom, knowing exactly where everything was. He should, it had only been a few months since the separation. Since he followed his friends on some asinine “top secret mission” and came back changed somehow. He offered you no explanation. You held on to the anger you felt, the hurt, the many ways you tried to get him to open up and he never did. 

You cleared your throat again, not wanting to go down that dark path once more. “If it’s too warm, I can turn down the heater,” Frankie offered.

“I got it,” you said. You didn’t move towards the thermostat. You continued mixing the pancake mix and wishing he’d hurry the hell up. You felt his eyes on you linger for a brief moment before he dropped to the floor, getting under the kitchen sink. You moved out of his way, standing off to the side while you spun the spoon around and around. Trying to ignore the length of him. His legs as he propped them on the floor. His heavy, scuffed boots. 

Frankie grunted as he worked. You hadn’t seen him grab his old tool box and you nearly tripped over it. You cursed as it hit your foot, your baby toe smarting from where you hit it. Frankie gave you a lopsided grin.

“Want me to kiss it and make it better?” He asked.

“Focus on yourself,” you said, though you noticed it had no bite in your words. A kiss from him…you must be loopy. Not seeing Frankie helped. Not being reminded of how pretty he is when he’s sober, teasing, and open like he was before. It was easy to focus on your daughter or work, day by day, too tired to worry about how you arrived here.

“We used to have fun finding things to fix,” he said, returning to whatever the hell he was doing.

You didn’t say anything as you turned your attention to the eggs, getting it prepped before putting it on to cook. You whisked the eggs as you remembered when you first moved to the house. It was a piece of shit then, but you had fun making it into a home. Into something both of you were proud of. 

“I let too many things slide,” he said.

“Can’t you fix that shit in silence?” You snapped. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, mixing and mixing and mixing. You were scatterbrained, Frankie’s presence conjuring up many memories and thoughts. But the only one you were stuck on now, was how amazing he looked. His shirt had ridden up while he reached under the sink. You saw a hint of his tummy, so thick and luscious with a happy trail leading straight down to…

“Eyes up here, gorgeous,” he muttered. You looked up and caught his eyes and a smirk on his face. 

You turned back to the stove, turning it back on, and obscuring your face from his. So what, he caught you staring. It’d been months…Months since you kissed him, held him, or felt any kind of relief. You tried after he was gone. Tried pleasuring yourself in your bed, in your bathtub, in the living room after your daughter went off to bed. 

Nothing worked. It was like your body had gotten much too used to the way he took care of you, your fingers and vibrator no longer did shit for you. Asshole. Out of all the things he did, he didn’t have to take that from you as well. You’d be able to think more clearly, act better, when you got around him if you weren’t so pent up. None of this…yearning.

You turned around, ready to plate the eggs when Frankie stood behind you. Too close. You gasped, standing so close to him that your breasts nearly brushed his chest. He smiled crookedly at you, looking down, when he whispered, “Forgot something in my truck.”

You nodded. Swallowed painfully. He didn’t move. Didn’t touch you, didn’t say anything, just stood there in the kitchen looking down at you. 

“Is there anything else that needs fixing around here?” He asked.

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him that your body needed fixing. Your heart too. You shook your head, moving past him since he wasn’t inclined to move. He sucked in a sharp bite of air as your body slid against his. Possibly on purpose. 

“Daddy!” Inez shrieked in the otherwise quiet house. Frankie’s face erupted in a big smile. 

“Chiquita! (Little one!) Look at you!” He said. He stooped down and scooped up your daughter, swirling her around the kitchen in a giant bear hug. The eggs popped behind you. 

You softly cursed, taking the pan off of the stove and turning it off. Not burnt but…not soft either. You plated the eggs, turning your attention to Frankie as he held Inez in his arms. 

She chattered away, catching him up on everything he missed since he’d seen her last weekend. Everything that happened on Bluey, with school, with her friends, and with a squirrel she grew fond of in the backyard. 

Frankie listened to everything, rapt attention, like your daughter was providing exclusive news coverage. He asked her questions, getting her to open up more. It made your heart sick. 

“Is Daddy staying again?” Inez asked.

Your lips parted but no words were forthcoming. You looked to Frankie for help, though you didn’t know why. Bastard was smiling at you. “I can’t let you eat all the bacon. I’m a growing boy, I need food,” he said. He pouted at your daughter who shrieked with giggles. 

“You’re already growed up!” 

“Growed is not a word,” you said. 

“Mommy’s just jealous. She’s already growed up, too,” Frankie said. 

You tilted your head at him but he only shrugged. You rolled your eyes.  “I suppose I can spare a few slices…”

Inez yelled in victory, mimicking her father when he watched sports. He yelled the same way, placing your daughter down on the floor. He got down to her level, fixing her pjs and then tapped her nose.

“Now, I wanna see clean teeth and a scrubbed face in ten minutes,” he said. He looked at his watch. “Go!” 

Your daughter took off towards the bathroom, huffing and pumping her short little legs to beat Frankie’s clock. He watched her with a slight chuckle and you watched him. You hated that they worked so well together. You started to feel like the Wicked Witch of the East keeping them apart. 

You never denied Frankie a chance to see his daughter. But you knew that he was maintaining a healthy distance for your sake. Because whenever you got around him, you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or scratch his eyes out. 

Frankie stood up, walking over to you. “I can make up something if you don’t really want me here,” he said. 

And be the one to crush your daughter’s heart? He stood too close again, crowding your space in the way that he always liked. Frankie reminded you of a puppy, a wolf puppy, but a puppy that just liked to snuggle. Touch. Caress. Part of his charm was that he was so openly caring that way. 

“It’s okay. Some payment is in order for fixing the sink. Finally,” you couldn’t help but add. 

Frankie smiled, placing a hand over his chest. “You wound me,” he said.

“Better hurry before there’s no more bacon left.” Frankie smiled, turning on the sink. You waited for it to sputter like normal, shooting out water before clearing and returning to a normal flow. When it didn’t, Frankie winked at you and washed his hands. 

“I still need something from the truck, I’ll hurry,” he said. He went out the front door this time. You moved everything to the dining table, getting out three plates instead of two. You peeked out of the window as Frankie climbed into his truck, retrieving a plastic bag. 

The sun damn sure loved him. It highlighted his tanned skin, like the sun itself was giving him a kiss. The red in his hair stuck out against the sun. He turned towards the house and you moved on, hoping he didn’t catch you staring again. 

Frankie came back in, waving some kind of nugget for the sink. You didn’t have a clue what it did but if he said he needed it, then so be it. Your daughter returned, grinning up at Frankie. He stooped down to one knee, looking at her. 

“Did you just splash water everywhere?” He asked.

“Noooo,” Inez said. She was a bad liar. 

Frankie chuckled. “With soap this time, please Chiquita?” Your daughter’s shoulders slumped as she went back to the bathroom. 

You giggled as you poured orange juice for her and started the coffee maker. “Would it be alright…?”

“Black. I know, Frankie,” you said. It had been his standing order when he was still here. You liked doing domestic shit for him. Liked taking care of him to appreciate him for all the small ways he took care of you. Fuck, you missed it.

Your daughter returned and you all sat down to breakfast, like the good old times. You talked and laughed, played board games. Frankie told you to take a nap while he took your daughter out to the park to tire her out. You loved the idea so you agreed.

When you awoke, it was well past dark outside. You sleepily emerged from the bedroom, finding Frankie asleep on the couch with your daughter tucked into his lap. You sneakily backed away, grabbing your phone so that you could snap a picture. 

Done, you leaned against the doorway staring at the pretty picture of them. Frankie adjusted himself, waking though you swore you hadn’t made a noise. He smiled sleepily at you, kissing your daughter’s forehead.

“Guess we both knocked out,” he said. 

“I’ll get her in bed,” you said.

“Let me?” He asked.

You nodded. He stood up slowly, cradling your daughter and took her to the room. You didn’t watch as he tucked her in. Couldn’t stand this separation a moment longer. You were weak. Weak in the damn knees and there was no solid ground beneath you. 

A wall of heat preceded Frankie before he stood behind you. He made no move to touch you, just stood there for a second before moving past. He cleared his throat. “I won’t come over anymore, promise,” he said. 

“I never really thanked you for fixing all that stuff,” you said.

“I should’ve done it while I was here. I wanted to do something nice for once. So you didn’t always think I was a piece of shit,” he said.

“I never thought you were a piece of shit, Frankie,” you said. You shook your head. This talk had been a long time coming. You supposed it was about time. Now, when you weren’t still so angry. Funny how a decent nap fixed a lot of things. 

When you kicked him out, it had been a huge screaming match. Luckily, your daughter was next door at a sleepover. But still. You were surprised you hadn’t woken the entire neighborhood. 

“It felt like…you didn’t want to be here. Like all you could think about was escaping. You were always up in the air and even when you were home, you were snorting shit or out with your friends. I started to feel like…” You weren’t quite that brave, to admit that it felt like he didn’t love you anymore. Couldn’t bear to toss those words out there.

Frankie saw you flinch anyway. He closed the distance and looked down at you with those haunting brown eyes. “You and Inez are the only important things in my life. I fucked that up, I know. But I swear to you, I wasn’t trying to escape. Never from you.” 

Tears welled in your eyes. Fuck, this shit was all so hard. You were staring at your husband, at your best friend, as if he were a stranger. There were so many things familiar about him and so many things you didn’t recognize. 

“Then why…?”

“Bad shit seems to pile up sometimes. So much so that the only way to drown it out is either up my nose or down the bottom of a bottle. I don’t want to burden you with that shit,” he said. He sighed and shook his head.

“It’s not a burden,” you said.

“It was to me. I only ever wanted you to keep being open and smiling. And happy, mi vida (my life).” 

“That’s not realistic, Frankie. Your burdens are my burdens. Mines are yours. That’s kinda in the marriage contract,” you said. 

“Do you know when I fell in love with you?” Frankie asked. He stepped closer, a shadow falling across your face because of his hat. 

“Frankie…” you sighed, shaking your head. Trying to ward off his words. You didn’t want to hear about his love. You didn’t want to think about all this time apart. 

“We’d only been dating two months. We had plans for a picnic. One of those fancy shits that people do because it’s cute and you just want to spend time together. Only, we got there, and it started raining. I thought you were going to think I was dumb or stupid for not checking the forecast. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore.”

Your thoughts turned to that date. It was the exact opposite. You felt so over the moon about him already. You liked his voice and the cute way he meticulously planned everything and looked so nervous. It could have been a picnic in the park or running to the store, you just wanted to gobble up all of his time and attention. 

“But then you stood up while everyone was running for cover and you turned your face to the rain. And fuck, I’d never seen such a beautiful person before. Never felt felt like I was in the presence of, fuck, royalty or divinity or something.”

You laughed. You didn’t want to but he was being too damn cute. “Shut up,” you said.

“You know I don’t always have the right words. But I never felt like I deserved you. I left so often because I knew I was fucking up. I knew I did. I know I still do. And it fuckin’ hurts knowing that I want to be a better man for you and I can’t,” he said.

Your chest ached for him. “I never asked you to be a better man, Frankie. You already were,” you said. Didn’t the big idiot see? He was an amazing father. A great husband when he was on the right track. He always made you feel so safe and protected. Loved. Cherished. Respected. 

He gave and he gave, often at the expense of himself. He was a provider and a protector. Just because it was built into his DNA. And he thought he wasn’t a better man? 

Frankie dropped to his knees. He took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. When you didn’t pull away, his large hands encircled your waist. He planted his forehead against your stomach. 

Softly, so softly you only heard him because it was quiet in the living room, he began speaking rapidly in Spanish. It was too fast for you to keep up with. It sounded like a prayer. It sounded like benediction. You slowly reached out and took off his baseball cap and let it drop to the floor.

You ran your hands through his curls, loving the softness of his hair. It was silky soft to the touch and you ran your fingers through it. Frankie sighed but continued. Reaching some kind of conclusion, he looked up at you. 

“I don’t deserve another chance, mi vida. You’ve put up with far too much from me already. But I can’t go another day without you. Without Inez. I want to be here. I want to be the man you married. I want to be everything you ever needed or wanted. And if you’ll give me that chance, I promise I’ll do everything I can to live up to it.”

You didn’t know what to say. It had been a hard road to being okay with kicking him out. You had spent many restless nights, tossing and turning because you didn’t want him in the house and you couldn’t bear the thought of him not being in it. Giving in right now felt like giving up. But it also felt like the stepping stone to everything you ever wanted from him.

For him to heal whatever was in his heart and mind. The shadows he kept from you. To be the man you married. And here he was, offering it to you on a silver platter. 

“I only want you to be yourself. Can you do that, Frankie?” You asked.

Not missing a beat, Frankie nodded. “I swear it.” 

You cupped his face and kissed him. Sliding your lips against his felt like the first breath of air after swimming for a long time. Like sliding onto clean sheets after a warm shower. Frankie made a low, strangled noise in his throat before he stood up and then crashed his lips back to yours. You caressed the nape of his neck, fingers curling around his hair, pulling him closer. 

Frankie’s hands migrated to your round ass, cupping it and squeezing. You gasped and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. He didn’t move or press for more. Too content to stand here and make out with you. When you both were fighting for air, too lost in kisses to be apart for long, you pulled back far enough to whisper, “Take me to bed.” 

Frankie growled but didn’t move. “Are you sure?” He asked.

“Now.” 

Frankie smiled against your lips as he walked you backwards towards your room. You didn’t break contact, kissing, trusting that he knew where to lead you without running you into a door or a dresser. 

Inside your room, he didn’t bother to turn on the light. He kicked the door shut behind him and then he pushed you towards the bed. He broke away long enough to toe off his boots and pull his shirt over his head. 

You felt for him, little ambient light in the room enough to make out his outline. You would like the lights on but you liked the intimacy of the dark. Where you weren’t cataloging everything about him. Weren’t worried about how you looked or if he was enjoying himself. It had been months. Things changed. Affections changed.

You felt none of that in his arms. In the way he ripped off your tank and shorts. The way his thumbs lightly caressed your aching nipples. You gasped, loving the rough texture of his calloused fingers. A man that worked with his hands. There was nothing sexier. 

He moved on from your lips, giving you a breather, while he kissed down your jaw and neck. He hooked his fingers around your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one fell swoop. You could feel the slickness between your thighs already, turned on to the max. Your body needed and craved him. So much so, you had been doing a poor job of hiding it the past few months. Even your memories or fantasies were nothing compared to the real thing. 

You stepped out of your shorts and panties and Frankie pushed you onto the bed. He hooked his arms under your legs and pulled you to the edge of the bed, spreading you wider. Had the light been on, he’d see you closing your eyes and inwardly groaning. 

You didn’t know why you felt shy, only that you did. Only that this time felt different. In so many ways. Sex had never been a problem for you and Frankie. But this felt like more. Like when you first got together and all you wanted to do was explore each other’s bodies. 

“Shh, shh,” Frankie whispered. “You are gorgeous. Beautiful. Devastating,” Frankie whispered against your tummy as he kissed there. 

You giggled. How the hell did he know?

“I know you. Inside and out,” he said when you asked him. He kissed down your tummy as he knelt before you. He dragged his nose through your folds, inhaling. “Still smell so sweet. Tell me, did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asked.

You hesitated. Did you really want to admit that too? That you did but were unable to finish if he wasn’t there?

“Tell me, mi vida,” he said. He bypassed your pussy altogether, moving down to place kisses against your thighs. You sighed, body heating up to dangerous levels. You just wanted him to move, to touch you, to give you that relief you’d been craving for the past few months. 

“Yes,” you finally admitted. The word nearly scraped your throat on the way out. You wanted to fight and tease him. Be sexy. But you were just too damn horny to think correctly at the moment. 

“Did it help?” He asked. He got a teasing lilt in his voice that told you he was enjoying this. Enjoying dragging this out as much as possible. 

“Yes,” you said. That wasn’t technically a lie. It did help take the edge off. But only just. It seemed like once you gave up, you could get something that resembled sleep. But you didn’t really rest.

“Liar,” he said and bit your thigh. “Did you think of me while you touched yourself?”

“Always,” you moaned as he dragged a finger lazily up the center of you. He didn’t touch your clit, not yet. He only played with your pussy lips, gathering the essence that leaked out of you. 

“Tell me what you thought about,” he said. He placed his free hand on your tummy, splaying his fingers wide.

“Frankie…” you sighed. 

“Tell me. I won’t say it again,” he said. His voice dropped, turning into that sexy, sleepy, bedroom voice of his that never failed to make your eyes roll back. Combined with the fact that you couldn’t really see his face, couldn’t gauge his emotions, could only rely on his voice, it turned you on in the best way possible. 

You swallowed around a dry patch in your throat. You were breathing so hard, it was tough to calm down long enough to tell him. “I thought about your hands. And how big they are. And how incredible they feel on me,” you said. 

Frankie hummed while he pushed his fingers through your folds, swirling his thumb around your clit. You gasped, moving your hips. But Frankie’s steadying hand on your stomach kept you locked in place. 

You moaned, back rearing off of the bed. “Keep going,” Frankie prompted.

“Your fingers…feel like heaven. I thought about you fingering me,” you said. 

Frankie kept his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles, while he pushed a finger inside of you. He grunted and a shudder seemed to run through him. “You’re so fucking wet, mi vida. Keep going, tell me how you really feel,” he said.

“I thought about you…tying me up. Tying me to the bed and leaving my legs free while you fuck me,” you said. The safety of the darkness let you unleash what you really wanted. Frankie had taken you in so many ways. You thought you’d be sick of it. Or craving something new. 

The opposite was true. You liked his mastery over you. The way he commanded and demanded, the way he gave orders and you followed, with a little mischievous resistance. You liked being at his mercy because you knew that he’d always protect you. 

You clenched around his fingers and Frankie cursed low, under his breath. “You want to be fucked?” He asked.

You nodded until you realized he couldn’t see you. “Yes, fucked,” you said. 

“What else do you need from me?” He asked. 

“I want you to hear your voice. I missed it. I want you to…tell me you missed me,” you said. You didn’t know how much you needed to hear it at the moment. After you kicked Frankie out, he respected it by keeping things civil as much as possible. You saw the lingering looks when you dropped off Inez, but you weren’t sure how he really felt.

“Oh, mi vida,” he sighed. He flipped his wrist and started fingering you in earnest. Before, it had been a slow glide, getting reacquainted with your pussy like the first time he came back from his tour overseas. This was something new entirely. He pumped his finger into you, adding a second and stretching you. 

“Oh, oh,” you moaned and grabbed hold of his wrist, feeling his muscles move beneath his skin.

“I have thought of nothing else but you. I’ve missed you so damn much, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t focus. I dreamt of you and hated when I had to wake up and discover you weren’t there,” he said. 

He curled his fingers in a come hither motion and you were exploding on the spot. His voice should be bottled and sold as the cure to any sexual ailment. With a few sentences, he had you going off like a bottle rocket. He whispered in Spanish while you floated in that gooey region in your mind, lost to pleasure. He continued to stroke that spot, wringing every last morsel of passion from you before he slowed down. 

You calmed down, throat raw from moaning, and panted. Frankie removed his fingers and he loudly sucked on them, tasting you. 

“There were too many nights that I stroked myself to thoughts of being welcomed back into your warm, wet heat. My hand was a poor substitute. Every day in the shower, I spilled into my hand wishing that I was spilling into your tight, little pussy,” he said. He kissed all around your pussy before planting a kiss on your clit. 

You moaned and writhed on the bed, picturing him in the shower glistening with water. Picturing him jerking himself to climax, lips parted, eyes tightly closed, the steam of the shower rising around him. Your pussy clenched just thinking of it.

“I dreamed of your taste, mi vida,” he said. He followed that sentence with a lick of his tongue. You jerked and moaned, hands flying to his hair and pulling. He growled, licking you again and causing you to pull harder. 

“Sweet fuck,” you moaned. 

Frankie stopped talking as he aggressively ate you out. Gone was the sweet, slow pace he set while he finger fucked you. His tongue moved around your clit, flicking and tasting, and teasing between his lips. 

You writhed and moaned, pushing at his head. It was too much. He grabbed your flailing hand and pinned it to the bed beside you. Your moans grew louder, more wanton, escaping your lips. You brought your other hand up and he only pinned that one as well. His big hands locked down your wrists, to the point that you couldn’t move an inch. God, you loved it.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on, cum on,” he encouraged in between licking and teasing you. You began to tense, crushing his head between your thighs. He kept going, licking and licking until you were a shaking, creaming mess before him. You managed to curb your moans, painfully aware that your daughter was just down the hall. But she slept like a rock, much like you. 

Frankie licked everything you gushed out. Like you were a little ice cream cone for him. He moaned into your pussy, finally dragging his lips away. You wondered if his jaw was soaked with your essence. You got your answer when he kissed both of your inner thighs, leaving wet spots behind. 

“So fucking pretty. So fucking gorgeous,” he whispered into your skin while he kissed up your tummy. He stood as he did so, moving to free himself of his jeans and briefs.

“Fuck, Frankie, I missed you. I missed you so fucking much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too. Let me come home. Let me stay,” he said.

“Stay, stay,” you said.

He stopped kissing you while he got to your titties. He kissed all around your nipples, bringing his hand up to play with your left one while he sucked on your right. 

“Frankie,” you chanted over and over again while he gave generous attention to your nipples. You played with his hair, with his broad shoulders. You ran your hands up and down his back, lightly dragging your nails across his skin. Overcome with the sudden need to mark him. To scratch him. To give him a physical mark and show it off to the world. That he was yours. Would always be yours. Forever and ever. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he lined himself up with your entrance. 

You caressed his face, bringing him down for a kiss. “I love you,” you said against his lips. 

He slid in with one savage thrust and you dug your nails into his skin, sharply hissing as he stretched you to the max. Your legs shook from finally being full. You clutched Frankie to you while he thrust, picking up speed while he rammed into you, just as you asked. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you moaned. 

“Can’t. Last. Much. Longer,” Frankie said through gritted teeth. He dropped his head to your chest, lips finding your nipples once more as he thrust hard and fast, pummeling you, and eliciting so many moans and cries from your lips you had no hope of staying quiet now. 

He pulled out unexpectedly with a groan. You whined, until Frankie roughly flipped you over. He hiked your hips up, lining himself back up, and then slamming into you. 

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. He hit a sweet spot deep inside you that made you see stars as you came. 

Frankie slammed into you, chasing his own orgasm as you squeezed and convulsed on his dick. You didn’t know if your eyes were open or closed. There were just the stars flashing in the darkness, a burrowing sense of relief that flooded your system and made you collapse. 

His fingers dug into your hips painfully while he continued to fuck you, your essence making it a smooth glide. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing in the dark room. He slammed harder, your ass making a delicious clapping sound on his thighs.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” Frankie chanted. It was punctuated with him thrusting one last time, so deep inside of you, while he groaned and climaxed. He seemed to swell inside of you, filling in any remaining space if there was any. His cum pulsed, hot and sticky, shooting out of him and filling you to the brim. So much so that the moment he moved, it leaked out of you. 

He pulled out completely and dropped beside you with a heavy, panting sigh. Your hips dropped to the bed, completely spent and worn out. That was what you had been missing. Your fingers or vibrator couldn’t reach as far as he could. They couldn’t talk and stimulate both your mind and body. You had tried listening to old recordings of his voice and it wasn’t the same.

Frankie tucked himself against you. You laid on his bicep while he curled his arm around you. His fingers trailed along your back and you hummed, snuggling closer. 

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back.

The end.

Frankie will be back! The Secret Frankie Morales Files

[caratheewriter]

Purely Platonic ~ Harry Collett x poc! non-binary! reader

THIS MANNNNN! If only we were seahorses…

Synopsis: You and Harry are co-stars in an upcoming film called ‘Swords & Spirits’. Due to your close nature, everyone wants to know if there’s romance in the air. (I gave the characters their own names because it would hard for me to keep track otherwise)

Rating: M

Warning(s): swearing, one sexual remark

Word Count: 668

Y/n L/n and Harry Collett answer the Web’s Most Searched Questions | WIRED

“Hi, I’m Harry Collett.”

“I’m Y/n L/n."

"And this is the WIRED Autocomplete Interview!"

The staff handed Harry a board that was done up to look like google.

"Ok! Here we go. Is Y/n L/n married?"

You giggle at the question, "Damn. I knew that was gonna be a question."

Harry looked at you and then down at the board, confused. "Why is that a question?"

"I'm about to answer that. Ok, I am not married. I just wear a ring on my ring finger because I am very much a rebel. One time during a get together with my family when I was 16, I believe, my aunt had told me to switch my ring onto my middle finger because I wasn't married. I had thought about it a bit after she said that and I realized that I didn't give a fuck about marriage and I still don't. So, that's why people think I'm married and why I wear a ring on my ring finger."

Harry laughs and grabs your hand to show the camera, "It's a beautiful ring."

"Yep. Straight from the Game Of Thrones x Pandora collection, courtesy of this one right here."

You ruffle his hair.

"Next question. Is Y/n L/n in Bridgerton? Ooh, are you?"

"I.... am not. I'm not in Bridgerton, but I am a big fan of the show. Next question, please."

"Is Y/n L/n and Harry Collett in Swords & Spirits?"

"Yes we are. I play Z Andreas."

"And I play Icarus Kennedy."

"Are Y/n L/n and Harry Collett... dating?"

"Dating someone or just dating?"

"Just dating."

"No. We are not dating. Just friends. I don't believe I can go past that with him."

"Someone needs to snatch you up."

"I don't wanna be snatched up. I wanna be d*cked down."

You wink at Harry, and then at the camera.

"When did Y/n L/n start acting?"

"Earlier this year." You start laughing, "Literally just this yearrrr!"

"In what?"

"Doctor Who."

"Oh yeah. I think that's the only reason I watch now."

"Awww, Harry! So sweet. Sweet boy."

"Next question! Who did Y/n L/n play in Doctor Who?"

"I played and still play Jenny Smith aka the Doctor's daughter. Georgia Tennant, I fucking love you. Tell your son to stop calling me during interviews."

You pull your phone out of your pocket to show that Ty was calling you.

"Decline."

"That's all of them. Do I just put it down or...?"

"I've seen these videos. They throw it."

Harry throws the board on the ground.

"Next one please."

The staff hands you the board this time.

"Is Harry Collett. Is Harry Collett... Jacaerys Velaryon?"

"Yes. I play Jacaerys Velaryon in House of the Dragon. Watch it on HBO Max."

"The rightful heir. The future king. Handsome boy."

"Thank you. Thank you for your gracious praise."

"Is Harry Collett. Is Harry Collett... engaged to Y/n L/n? Oh my god!"

"No. Unfortunately, I am not engaged to the amazing Y/n L/n. Although, they are a catch. Why are people searching for this?"

"You know what, I think it's because I visited you a lot during filming. I remember I saw this tweet, I think, on my way to Spain. You were filming for House of the Dragon. I saw it and it said "Harry is such a d-tier fiancé cause Y/n wears their ring all the time in Doctor Who and we never see Harry's ring." I laughed for like 2 minutes straight."

"Yeah, you sent me that. I read the, like, the replies to it and one was like umm, "maybe because they aren't [redacted] married, you delusional [redacted]. Stop, you do this all the [redacted] time." I laughed, admittedly."

"Damnnn."

"Right? Overall, Y/n L/n is an amazing person. They are funny, smart, talented, all of the above but, what we have is just friendship, purely platonic."

"Yes, purely platonic."

fin.

love this man from ♾️ to ♾️!!!!!

[siriusleee]

shot through with gold

“I smashed the whole house to bits,” Johnny keeps going, turning to put the milk in the refrigerator. “Had to get Simon over here to help me put it back together. It was his idea by the way. To get the mug fixed. He said you’d be mad if it was gone when you came home.”

tags: coming back home, implied torture, capture, smut, riding, reader is afab, mentions of medical procedures, mentions of blood word count: 7.7k author's note: This was a commission by the best and brightest @gazs-blue-hat. If you'd like to commission a fic, visit my ko-fi for more information. Also, I refuse to disgrace the good country of Scotland by attempting to do the full Scottish accent. Readers call sign is Sparrow, but it's only used once.

The room is heavy with dust; small puffs cloud around Johnny’s boots as he pads across the plush carpet. The summer’s oppressive heat makes the walls sweat - you’d be worrying about the mold forming in the drywall if you could see it. But Johnny doesn’t think of the way his handprints smudge on the paint you spent weeks agonizing over or the way your perfume lingers in the still air even after all this time. 

His singular mission - to grab a few shirts he needs and leave - is the only thought he allows himself to think about, hands combing through the dressers and eyes trained downward, away from all the pictures hanging on the wall. He avoids your side of the dresser, avoids the lace that still peaks out from your top drawer. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, Johnny ignores it as he pulls the shirts he came to look for out of the dresser drawer, tucking them beneath his arm. He follows his tracks in the dust back out, eyes cast down at the carpet. The whole trip takes less than 10 minutes; he doesn’t let himself look up until he’s slamming the passenger door of Simon’s truck shut behind him. 

“Got everything?” Simon asks, shifting the truck into drive. 

Johnny sits ramrod straight in the seat, eyes avoiding Simon’s as he buckles in. 

“Yeah, got everything.”

Your fingers trace over the marks you’d carved into the soft stone wall. You’d tried to keep a tally mark of days, but time slipped by in odd increments within your cell. Some days you’d watch the sunrise from the cracks in the ceiling and after just a blink, the inky blackness of night would be seeping in. Sometimes the sun hung in the sky for months before finally falling to the full moon. No matter how hard you tried to decode the pattern,  the moment you had it everything would reset. 

The guards were in on it; they had to be. They’d bring your meals at odd times - sometimes you’d still be full from the moldy slop they shoved in between the cell bars, spilling it out onto the floor like you’re an animal in a cage, and sometimes you’d be so hungry that you could barely crawl to eat. 

It was supposed to be someone else - you were pulled for guard duty after another soldier slogged off and broke his foot doing something stupid while training. You’d finally been pulled to work with Johnny, three days away from being a full transfer to the 141 when your C.O. had appeared at the door of your bunk, new orders in hand.

A simple guard duty: get the guy to where he was supposed to be going, hand him off, and fly home. Your transfer could wait an extra forty-eight hours. But your plane was shot down somewhere over the middle of nowhere - you had told your C.O. that flying that low was a risk, but the desert was empty and the plane was old. They’d been making the flight for weeks, ferrying men back and forth with no hiccups. Your flight should have been no different. 

It should have been someone else. 

You couldn’t remember what had hit your small passenger plane: but the ground was David, and you were Goliath. You’d hit the ground beside the pilot’s head, his mouth formed in a soundless scream, and after a quick flash of black, had woken up to a bucket of water being poured across your face.

Whatever language your captives screamed at you, you didn’t know it. And if they knew any of the ones you screamed back at them: Spanish, Arabic, German, they didn’t let you in on it. You couldn’t figure out what they wanted until they’d ripped the Union Flag from the breast of your vest, a quick picture on a Polaroid camera snapped above you before you realized what they wanted.

Blood dribbled down your chin when you laughed at them: the government didn’t even pay for soldiers who got captured at war. What would they pay for your half-broken body to get shipped back in a wooden box? A simple mistake that could be written off as a plane malfunction. 

The anger had come first, feet and fists slamming into the men when they appeared at the cell doors. Nails ripped from their beds when you tried to claw at the seams in the walls.  It had cost you a few teeth and a pound of flesh. And then, when you were tired of the endless beatings and anger that went nowhere, you begged them to kill you, to do something to end the torment. By the marks on the wall, it took months before you first asked to be killed, and only weeks later for that to end, each request met with silence and a sneer. Now you lay in the corner, waiting for the few moments when they’d let you out to see the sun glinting off of the mountain ranges, the clouds threatening to storm in the distance.

Those quick trips seemed to come with less frequency as time slipped by.

You trace the tattoo on your thigh; they’d cut through it once after you kicked one of them in the chest, his ribs caving beneath your feet, but even beneath the dried viscera and matted dirt that covered your skin, you could still see Johnny’s name there.

You wonder if he’s picked a gravestone for you yet.

The two of you had talked about it, once. It was the nature of your jobs - to be prepared for everything that could come your way. Your wills were done: 75% to Johnny, 15% to your sister’s kids, and the rest to a local charity. Johnny wrote in that you were to get 100% of everything he owned, and you had chided him about it. 

“What about your mom? Your sisters?” You had asked across the steam from your cup of coffee. Johnny had shrugged, dropping the black pen onto the table with finality.

“Already taken care of, birdie.”

After that had come the talk of headstones and burial plots. Of missing bodies and cremation. You had told Johnny that whatever he thought you’d like, to pick out. You weren’t picky about it.

You wonder if the military let him put his last name on the stone.

A decidedly male voice shouts from around the corner, and you pull back into the stone wall. Seconds later, fetid food falls through the bars. The man shouts at you, pointing at the food on the ground. Lazily, you turn your head towards him, watching the way he sneers at you through the bars.

They must be getting angry then. No ransom came through after all these months. 

You bare your teeth at him.

You’d rip his throat out if you had the strength to do so anymore.

Johnny’s fingers don’t shake like they used to when he buckles the strap of his helmet, the night vision goggles weighing him down. He’s tired - exhausted. The entire convey smells of cigarettes and sweat. Heavy men in heavy gear press around him; across from him Gaz’s eyes shine terribly bright in the darkness. They press in on Johnny, forcing him back into his seat heavily. 

Price’s voice is loud in his comms, intermingling with the sounds of the Marines and the whir of the mechanics beneath his feet. Johnny can’t make out the details over the sound of the truck rumbling beneath him.

“Steady Soap?”

Gaz knows - Johnny doesn’t know how Gaz can do this kind of job with the way he fucking oozes empathy. Or sympathy. Johnny could never remember which one was which, he always had to ask you which one to use.  Gaz had been the only one who’d asked him if he was alright; Simon had lingered at the edges of rooms Johnny was in to keep an eye on him, and Price tried to give him an extended leave. Johnny had refused. 

But Gaz had been waiting until Johnny was sitting outside of some bar a group of Seals had taken them to - a celebration for a job well done months after you were gone, after Johnny's failed attempt to find you. 

“You good?” Gaz had asked, fingers twirling a cigarette he would never light.

“O’course.”

It had made Johnny feel like shit to lie to Gaz, and the same feeling washes over him as Gaz’s eyes linger on Johnny.

The warm summer air washes over them; sweat is starting to coat his lower back, his fatigues keeping him too warm. The smell of the desert, of warmed sand keeps him grounded, reminds him of where he is - what he’s doing here. 

In the glint of the moonlight, the mountaintops shine at him.

The first few missions had been difficult: he’d fought like hell to try to search for you, fuck the regulations. He’d resign if it meant finding you. The rest of the fucking government didn’t care: no one on the plane was as important as anyone else, not to the officials anyway. Johnny had done just that, his resignation had landed heavily on Price’s desk, only to land in the trashcan a moment later.

Gaz volunteered to follow Johnny, but Price had cut that off quickly. It was to be Johnny and Simon only. They had five days, a week at most before they had to be back home.

The farthest they got was the plane wreckage, a little burnt-out village miles away, and sheep that stared at them from the sides of the mountains. But he couldn’t find a trace of you or a singular person who even recognized the photo of you he kept tucked inside his gear. Even after Simon had disobeyed Price’s orders to return home now after weeks had passed. They didn’t find anything.

Johnny knew that’s why Price had volunteered the 141 for this mission - a small-time terrorist cell hiding out in a country they didn’t belong to, a small promise of the bodies of missing soldiers hidden somewhere.

It was something.

The guards are panicking; the dirt walls shake around you. You can’t guess what it could be: American pilots doing a blind bombing, Russians pretending to send help only to rain down hell on the perceived innocent. Maybe God’s here to level the land and flood it. Try again. Do something different this time.

He could start with your cell, you think, scraping at the dirt on your leg. Underneath the sun-starved skin is paler than it should be. If you ever leave, you think, the first thing you’re going to do is eat a fucking steak in the sunshine. The bones that refused to set correctly ache beneath your bruised flesh.

The sound of gunfire pierces the inescapable silence. Your captors yell, screams punctuating between the bursts of firepower. Good, maybe they’ll tear each other apart and leave you here to die in peace. 

Maybe it was a poker game gone extremely wrong. Someone asked to strip when they should have been ponying up the cash.

Smoke pops in the hallway outside, you don’t run from the white creeping in on you, just pull the rags that were your shirt over your mouth to try and keep breathing. It overtakes your cell; you watch as the smoke creeps through the cracks in the ceiling.

The sounds of war flood the small cell - the taste of blood and gunpowder in the air around you. You can taste the iron when you breathe in. It coats your tongue. You run your teeth across the chipped and broken enamel, mixing the taste of other’s blood with your own.

Someone shouts so close this time you can almost make out the words - American accent thick and heavy in your ears - and it stirs something inside of you. You try to navigate the cell through the smoke, rolling painfully off of the pallets your captors had so kindly turned into a bed for you. Crawling across the excreta and mud you try to make a sound, but you haven’t spoken in months.

Your throat is raw, and the sounds that come from you are barely human. You’ll be surprised the men even hear you, let alone notice you there on the ground. You try to pull yourself up at the bars, but the fracture in your ankle that healed up wrong weeks ago keeps you on your knees.

“Hey-” you finally croak out loud enough for one of the men to cast his eyes down at you. “Please.”

He’s so familiar, the softness in his eyes tugging at something familiar inside of you, the sharpness of his shoulders calling to you. You pull yourself up, leaning heavily on the bars and the one ankle that doesn’t scream at you, hands slipping through the bars to try to reach towards him.

His gun drops, swinging loosely on its strap as he steps towards you. His fatigues are filthy, and his nose wrinkles beneath the cloth mask covering his face. You know you smell terrible, and you want to apologize for it, but you can’t make the words come. He looks so tired as he steps towards you, hands reaching out to grip the bars between the two of you. 

“Sparrow?”

“Johnny?”

It takes days for you to make it home: IVs from field medics who barely know what they’re doing, anti-viral meds, shots, stitches. They don’t even let you take a real shower until you’ve landed at a base you barely recognize. It’s a painful process, a female nurse wiping at you gently, but still peeling away layers of skin with each pass of the washcloth, your sobs muffled by the shower. 

Johnny waits for you on the fringes of all the people that press around you, poking you, prodding you painfully until finally, you find yourself slammed into a British hospital bed.

Johnny comes in the moment they let him, hands held behind his back in a mock parade rest. You barely recognize him, his mohawk almost completely grown out and bags under his eyes. You know you don’t look much better; you’d caught sight of yourself in a mirror before they’d forced you into bed. Ruined was the only word to describe what you saw. Too thin, too broken. Too torn apart to be stitched back together. At least not without all the types of therapy a military doctor listed out to you: hydro, occupational, physical, mental.

Neither of you know what to say, so you start with the last thing the doctor told you. 

“They’re going to rebreak my ankle tomorrow,” your voice is still thin, full of isolation. You’d tested it out on everyone who’d been in to work on you, but it didn’t sound right at all. Johnny shuffles nervously where he stands, and then rushes forward to sit in the chair beside your bed. He’s moving wrong, you think, like a wind-up doll. Too slow and then all at once, too fast.

“Why?”

“I healed up wrong.”

Johnny’s hands play with the edge of the blanket that dangles off of the bed, eyes trained on the fabric. He’s not going to look at you. At the ruin you’ve become. You press yourself down harder into the thin mattress, hands tucked beneath your thighs to keep them still.

“Is it going to hurt?” 

You can’t help but smile at his question, your toes twitching beneath the blanket that feels so out of place across you. How many months had they had you? A year? No one had told you yet.

“They said I’d be fucked up on medicine. But probably, yeah."

Johnny’s hands aren’t still against the blanket, instead reaching out towards you. The movement startles you, and you jerk to the opposite side, nearly pulling your IVs out. Johnny pulls his hands back, crossing them across his chest.

“When you -” his voice breaks, just a moment before he put it back together, eyes finally meeting yours, “when you come home I’ll bring the bedroom downstairs so that you don’t have to walk far.”

You have the nagging suspicion that he changed what he was going to say at the last moment. 

"Are you going to sleep on the couch with me?" You try to tease, but your voice falls flat, unpracticed. But it still makes Johnny smile, sharp incisors digging into his chapped lips. 

"I'll sleep wherever you tell me."

The two of you are surrounded by the sounds of the hospital: the beeps of the heart rate monitors, the sounds of the nurses' quiet conversation outside of your room. You trace your hands across the blanket, grasping Johnny’s whenever your fingers collide with each other. 

For a moment, neither of you move, just languish in the feeling of each other’s skin; you’re too busy tracing Johnny’s palm to notice him pushing himself closer to you until he kisses you, softly but with a tight undercurrent of desperation, his hand tightening almost painfully on yours.

The feeling of someone touching you so gently after weeks of rage and anger nearly stops your heart. The monitor goes crazy; Johnny pulls back, just the hint of a smile on his lips.

It takes four weeks for Johnny to get the go ahead to bring you home. Each day you were in the hospital he would come for a quick chat before work,  bringing you breakfast he picked up. Every day after, he would collapse in the chair beside your bed, smelling of sweat and gunpowder. 

The smell made you recoil when he tried to kiss you, and he didn't try again after that, even after you tried to stutter out a why. But the day the doctor tells Johnny that you can go home, you awaken to Johnny outside of the hospital room, arms crossed as he speaks to the head doctor - Johnny looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him off the battlefield. 

Everyone rotates around you as if you’re not there, packing the room up, pulling your IVs out, fingers prodding and poking you until a nurse aide wheels a wheelchair into the room for you.

”Ready?” She asks, locking the brakes. She looks at you from across the room, and you know what she wants. Starting the day after they rebroke your bones, they made you get up and start walking, and you push yourself off of the bed, walkable cast heavy against the tile floor. 

Johnny’s in the room in a second, catching sight of you whenever he sees you stumbling over your cast across the room. The aide lets him push her out of the way, his hands gripping the wheelchair as you lower yourself down.

“I can walk out, you know.” You grumble at Johnny as he tosses a heavy folder into your lap.

“Hospital procedure, birdie.”

Simon’s truck is waiting for the two of you in the parking lot, Simon in the driver's seat. He throws a glance at you as Johnny helps you clamber into the backseat, crowded around by grocery bags. 

“Hello, Luv.”

“Hello, Simon. Thank you for the ride.”

Simon opens his mouth to speak, black hospital mask sliding up, but he’s cut off by Johnny clambering into the passenger seat. 

You watch Johnny from the backseat, foot propped up beside you. His hair has grown out too long, the Mohawk nearly disappeared and his beard has started to grow in. In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him anything other than clean-shaven; even in the field, he'll butcher himself with a knife before he lets it grow in.

He’s thinner than he should be, too. You wonder if he’d been eating like he was supposed to.

The drive home is disorientating, Simon taking turns too sharply, too quick for your still queasy stomach. By the time Johnny helps you climb down from the truck, dropping your hands quickly when both of your feet are on the ground. 

The house is clean, too clean for Johnny to have been here alone. Like he can sense you'd skepticism, Johnny speaks from ahead of you.

“I’ve hired a cleaner,” Johnny says, holding the door open for you. “So don’t worry about anything.”

It’s odd to be back home; you trace your fingers across the knick-knacks you’d collected throughout the years, the furniture you’ve spent years picking out. You have memories of sitting here with Johnny, memories of Simon and Gaz laughing from the kitchen. But now all you feel is lost, a bottle floating in a foreign ocean.

You wander into the kitchen, fingers trailing against the wall - there are no dirty dishes in the sink, no food in the cabinets; Johnny wasn’t living here. 

The only dish you recognize is sitting on the counter, you pick it up, feeling the unfamiliar weight in your hand. 

“It’s called Kintsugi.”

The Japanese word rolls heavily off of Johnny’s tongue, your fingers pause tracing the golden lines that cut through the mug. It was your favorite, a gift from when you and Johnny had first met. The two of you met at a diner, out with mutual friends. You’d thought it was cute, the name of the diner printed across the front in vintage lettering. Johnny had swiped it for you, hiding it beneath his jacket until the two of you parted ways at your doorstep.

“What happened to it?”

“I broke it,” he admits, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter. Your fingernail can’t find any snag in the glaze, any sign that the mug has never had the golden lines cutting through it.

Johnny busies himself with unloading the bag, speaking without looking at you as he confesses.

“After you were taken, I spent weeks searching for you until Price forced me to come home. I was angry, and I smashed it.”

You can feel the frown sketched onto your face; you don’t look at Johnny as you set the mug down on the counter. 

“I smashed the whole house to bits,” Johnny keeps going, turning to put the milk in the refrigerator. “Had to get Simon over here to help me put it back together. It was his idea by the way. To get the mug fixed. He said you’d be mad if it was gone when you came home.”

You lean against the counter and watch Johnny busy himself with the groceries. 

“He was right,” you admit, feeling silly over the sadness that fills you over the broken cup, “but maybe that’s something Simon has a lot of experience with broken things ya’know.”

You and Johnny orbit each other for weeks: he’s there every day until you begin to question if he’s gotten himself fired to stay home with you. He drives you everywhere, and if he can’t, Simon waits for you just out past the front gate, no doubt on Johnny’s orders. 

“I had a lot of time off,” he says one day, elbow-deep in the laundry that he dumped between the two of you, eyes cast on the television. “Never had a reason to take it before.”

Your hands smooth the wrinkles out of one of Johnny’s shirts, fingers picking at the loose string. Today had been talk therapy, recommended by the SAS doctors. They were strict about all the requirements you had to meet if you ever wanted to go back, and laying on a shrink’s couch for two hours a week was one of them.

The graying doctor had asked you if you had spoken to Johnny about the anger that still wells up in you, the dreams you have of tearing your captives to pieces with your hands, the internal self-flagellation you went through every night when you thought about the career you’d worked so hard for, and have now lost. 

You had spent the rest of the day thinking about what he said, even when it meant not paying attention to the medical doctor’s order when they were cutting your cast off, but Johnny took in every word.

You almost say something then, tossing Johnny’s shirt onto his pile, but the wrong words come out.

“You need a haircut.”

“Yeah?” Johnny’s hands still around a pair of your shorts, you feel him watching you in his peripheral vision. “You want to cut it?”

Of course, you did; you spend more moments than not thinking about how his hair must feel like long if it’s still soft. But every time the two of you tried to touch each other, the other pulled away. 

So when Johnny takes your hand, and pulls you up the stairs, you let him - hand heavy and warm in your own.

Johnny lowers himself onto the closed toilet seat; you feel unsteady as you approach him, clippers in hand, and you’re not sure if it’s from the closeness or the weight of your cast being removed. 

“Are you sure you trust me to do this?” You ask again; since you’d come home your fingers had been a kind of clumsy they’d never been before. 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Johnny keeps his eyes trained on you, fingers tapping against the tight denim stretched across his jeans.

“I can scalp you bald,” you admit, switching the clippers on, “and then you’d look like a Q-Ball for eight weeks.”

“I’ll be the best damn Q-Ball anyone’s ever seen,” Johnny says, beard twitching as he smirks at you. If he notices the way your fingers tremble when you take his jaw in your hand, he doesn’t say anything. 

His eyes close at the feeling of the clippers cutting through his hair, no doubt the feeling of the weight being removed was comfortable for him.

“You didn’t do this while I was - while I was gone?”

Your therapist says you shouldn’t shy away from calling your kidnapping what it was, but you still can’t form the words in front of Johnny.

He hums at your words, never opening his eyes as he speaks.

“I don’t let anyone else touch my hair, birdie.”

“What about your beard?”

Johnny snorts, eyes meeting yours as you maneuver his head to the side. 

“You don’t like it?”

You like the way he feels against your skin, you want to tell him. But you can’t make the words form, can’t spit them out. Johnny watches you chew on them for a moment before he lets out a sigh. His hair is scattered on the floor around the two of you, more than you’d thought he’d had. 

You swap the guards to shorten his mohawk, pressing yourself in between Johnny’s knees so that you can reach the nape of his neck.

His hands wrap around your thighs, light and warm against the skin that peeks out beneath the shorts you hadn’t taken off since you’d left your cast removal this morning. 

Your skin is on fire at his touch, you try to ignore it as you clean up his neck; Johnny buries his face in your shirt, breath warm against your stomach. His fingers trace light patterns on your thigh and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep the clippers from straying.

His fingers trace the scar that covers his name, and you jump back like you’ve been shocked. Your back hits the wall, knocking the decorative towels you’d spent days choosing to the floor. Johnny’s hands linger in the air between the two of you as you try to catch your breath.

“Sorry,” you pant out with a heavy swallow. 

Johnny pushes himself up, eyes watching you like you’re a wild animal ready to run. 

He reaches out and brushes some of his fallen hair from your shoulders, electrifying your skin again. His touch is hesitant as he traces up your shoulder, fingers cupping the back of your neck.

He’s fire as he presses himself against you, lips brushing over yours just quick enough to light something up inside of you before pulling away with an apology. He loosens the clippers from your hands and shoos you out with a promise he’ll clean the hair up himself.

A storm rages outside, threatening to cut the power at any moment. You watch it throw around tree limbs and leaves through the front window. Behind you, the television casts soft shadows on the walls.

“Still pouring out there?” Johnny asks from his spot on the couch. Your answer is the curtain falling back into place. You pad back to your spot beside Johnny; he holds the blanket up for you to slip underneath.

His bare leg rubs against yours, but his hands stay firmly in his lap. He hadn’t tried to touch you since that day in the bathroom - even when he dropped you off at therapy, you’d wait for him to stretch across and kiss you, but he’d just send you off with a wave. 

You knew it was partially your fault: you couldn’t get the words out to explain how much you wanted him to touch you, how sorry you were for every jerk away. Every time you tried to tell him how much you wanted him, the words curled into your throat and refused to budge. You had even asked earlier for him to take a shower with you, to no avail. 

The movie - some family flick Johnny picked because it didn’t have any violence, you know - cast shadows across Johnny’s face. His stubble is starting to come in again; you reach out and trace your finger across the five o’clock shadow creeping onto his jawline.

Johnny doesn’t take his eyes away from the television screen, but he leans his face into your touch. Your fingers trace upwards, lacing through the Mohawk you’d trimmed just two weeks ago. Johnny nearly purrs when you tug on his hair, pulling him down so that he’s lying across your lap.

You have to take it slow, you know or you and Johnny both might break apart. So you just settle beneath him, fingers tracing patterns onto his scalp, eyes trained on the television, but not really watching. 

“I don’t think I’m going to go back,” you whisper, voice nearly drowned out by the storm outside. Johnny rolls, doing his best not to dig painfully into your thigh to look up at you.

“To work?”

You nod, still refusing to look at him. 

“I talked about it with the therapist today; I just - I think it would be best if I just cashed in my retirement. I’ve got a lot saved up: hazard pay and all that. The corporal offered me a job as a trainer. So I could still be around."

Johnny’s hand reaches up to grab your wrist, forcing you to look at him. You can’t read the expression on his face, and you don’t like that. He’s always your open book. You try to keep your heart rate steady at the feeling of him tracing patterns on your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, birdie.”

And you know he’s not just apologizing for your ruined career, for the nearly year you’d spent locked away in some disgusting cell, for the still broken teeth in your mouth, or the screws that hold most of you together now. He’s still apologizing for not being able to find you earlier, to be there months earlier. 

“It’s not your fault Johnny - I should have told them no. I should have been smart enough to just tell my commanding that I couldn’t do it. I should have-“

Hot tears start to fall; Johnny pushes himself up, fingers brushing them away gently. When you don’t shy away from his touch, he pulls you into his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin, and pulling you so tight you think you might break beneath his touch. And you would let yourself shatter beneath him, if it meant he could put you back together, shot through with gold. 

Johnny lets you cry on his shoulder until the fabric of his shirt is soaking wet; after a while, the smell of him, the softness of the way he caresses your back,and the feeling of his jean-clad thigh between your own stirs something else inside of you. You need something else, something more desperate, something to push away the feelings of failure. Of the fear that still lingers in you of heights, and darkness, and men who smell of sweat and gunpowder. 

So when you kiss him, softly, Johnny doesn’t push you away like he can feel how much you need him to touch you. Even as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, you don’t break the kiss. It stays superficial, and soft, neither of you breaking apart or deepening it. You expect him to carry you to the spare bed he brought downstairs for you, but instead, he cradles you up the stairs, hands gripping your thighs so tight you know there will be a thumb-shaped bruise there tomorrow. 

Johnny doesn’t stumble as he carries you. 

In the bedroom the two of you shared before you were lost, Johnny collapses on the bed, his smell enveloping you, hands never leaving you. He buries his nose in the soft skin of your neck, breathing in the smell of you. 

“Are you here with me birdie?”

Johnny’s voice is muffled on your skin, his hands pausing at the hem of your shirt. 

“I’m here Johnny.”

You rest your hands on his biceps and feel the way his heart is in your own chest. His weight presses down around you, the mattress sinking down beneath the two of you. The wind rolls in through the window, gooseflesh erupting on your skin where Johnny isn’t touching.

Johnny’s hands don’t move from the hem of your shirt until you slide your own down to his wrists, a bravery you hadn’t felt in weeks taking over you.

“Please, Johnny.”

Johnny shifts, knees spreading your own apart, but he still doesn’t touch your bare skin until you tug on his wrists, trying to slide them underneath your shirt, instead, he traces your arms - the area you know he thinks is safe. 

The feeling of his calloused hands on your soft skin makes you shiver; Johnny presses a kiss to your pulse point. You know he can feel the way your heartbeat picks up quickly, and he bites down on the sensitive skin lightly. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way you buck your hips upward into his. 

“Birdie.” It’s a warning and a promise rolled into one, and it makes you press your knees together, trying to slow yourself down. 

You let your own hands start exploring Johnny. Once, you’d had his skin memorized - every scar and freckle committed to your own memory. But there are new scars there you’ve never seen before, new wrinkles at the corner of his eyes he didn’t have before. 

It’s like the first time again, both of you exploring each other slowly. Johnny pauses every time you make a noise, eyes searching your face to make sure you’re alright. You push him away just long enough to pull his shirt off of him, hands instantly reaching out to pull him back down. His own hands slide your shorts down until you can kick them across the room.

Johnny kisses you, full of the same desperation he’d had that day at the hospital. Your teeth click together as the two of you suddenly move frantically, hands grasping at each other. Johnny shakes as you run your nails down his back, pushing until he realizes what you want.

Johnny rolls, hands still wrapped around your waist until you’re on top of him. The thin material of your panties is already wet; you can feel it when you grind down on him. The rough material of his blue jeans has enough friction to send lighting bolts through you.

“Is that what you want birdie?” Johnny’s voice is low and rough in his throat; his hands rest lightly on your hips as you grind down. Your hands reach back to rest on his thighs, more leverage for you to move. 

You can’t answer him, already biting down on the moans that start to build in the back of your throat. Johnny’s grip tights as you speed up; you can feel his erection pressing tightly against his zipper as you grind faster. 

You feel yourself start to tremble, hands moving to brace yourself against Johnny’s chest. He wraps one hand around your wrist, the other still at your waist; you can’t look away from the hungry glint in his eye. 

Outside the storm lashes, the cool air rolling in across you and Johnny. 

“Let it out,” he whispers, voice ragged and panting. He’s bucking his own hips in time with your grinding; he’s holding back - you know he doesn’t want to scare you, so you loosen the knot inside of you, moaning loud enough that a blush starts to creep up your chest. At the sound, Johnny bucks up harder. 

You can’t help the way you come undone, nails digging into Johnny’s chest, leaving half moons on the sensitive skin. Johnny lets you ride him until the waves of your orgasm finish rolling over you, his hands not leaving you until you finally still, thighs shaking on each side of him. You can feel your drenched underwear, feel yourself soaking into his blue jeans. 

Johnny is so hard beneath you, a red flush across his chest. Outside the storm rages harder, and the lights flicker momentarily. Johnny pushes himself up onto one elbow, the hand that has refused to move up your shirt sliding up just an inch. His fingers play with the edge of your underwear, the lace snagging on his callouses.

“Why don’t you want to touch me?” You can barely hear yourself over the rain lashing against the window; Johnny’s eyebrows knit together, and he pushes himself up until he’s sitting up, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep from falling backward. 

“I want to touch you,” he tries to reassure you, hands tracing patterns across the back of your shirt. But you shrug his hands off, catching his wrists in your hands before he can fully withdraw away.

“You won’t touch me beneath my shirt,” you slide his hands down to the bare skin of your thighs, moving them until the hem of your shirt falls over his fingertips. “You wouldn’t take a shower with me.”

Johnny chews on his lips, they’re too chapped, you think. The silence stretches in the sound of the storm, and the flickering lights. Before Johnny can speak lightning and thunder crash outside, and the house goes dark - the sound of the electricity powering down cutting him off. Neither of you moves in the sudden blackness. 

“I’m not broken, Johnny.” You don’t want to sound so pathetic, but you do. 

“I know you’re not, hen.”

“Then why am I having to beg, Johnny?”

Johnny’s hand slips up so that he’s holding your hips beneath your shirt. 

“I’m not going to hurt you too.”

It’s a tough confession for him to make, you know. He’d done his best not to talk about the whole ordeal, he never asked what you went through. This was his way of keeping you away from it.

You roll your hips across his again, and his breath catches in his throat. 

“Please Johnny; you’re not going to hurt me.”

You don’t know if it’s the whine in your voice or the way you trace your fingers across the hard plane of his chest, or if Johnny is just as tired of holding back as you - but he rolls you over, gentle and quick until his chest his pressed against yours, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the base of your neck. 

You’re horribly out of practice, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans, getting stuck when Johnny pulls your shirt over your head, but he doesn’t let his lips leave you; your teeth clip together as Johnny deepens the kiss he refuses to let end until your gasping for breath beneath him.

It’s electric in the best and worst ways - Johnny’s calloused fingers tracing patterns on your stomach, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear, pushing them further down each time.

The current running through you makes it difficult to breathe; you can’t even warn Johnny, can’t beg him to slow down what you were just begging him to speed up. But there has never been anyone who’s known you the same way Johnny has, and when his hands slow you know he can feel that it’s too much. Just for a moment.

“Still with me?”

“Still here.”

Johnny’s hands don’t speed up, but he doesn’t slow either - pressing open-mouth kisses down your neck, between your breasts, across the planes of your stomach until he finally stops at the edge of your underwear. He darts his tongue out to lick the sensitive skin peeking out above the hem, and the feeling makes you gasp out, hips pressing harder into the mattress. His fingertips brush just over the wetness you’ve soaked through and you grind your teeth together, painfully. 

“Too much?”

Yes.

Too much for you at this moment; you’re not sure if your body will hold together if Johnny even tries to eat you out, tries to stretch you with his fingers, you can hardly keep together at the feeling of him touching you anywhere after so many months of nothing but dirt, and maggots, and feverish longing for-

You didn’t notice Johnny crawling back up your body until he presses a soft kiss on your temple, fingers wiping away your hair that’s plastered with sweat there. 

Johnny’s whispering in your ear: how much he missed you, how he had thought about you every day, how he’d tried to scorch the earth to look for you; he pulls you until you’re back on top of him. You can feel how hard he is, how wet you are as you grind down against the hard planes of his lower stomach, searching for him.

Johnny’s hands squeeze at your hips, shifting the both of you until you feel the tip of him catch against you; a shudder rolls through you both, but Johnny doesn’t move. Every muscle in his body is pulled taunt, pulled against fucking into you at a frenetic pace. You recognize the set of his jaw, the way his hands wrap around your forearms. He’s letting you set the pace, letting you control him.

You wait for just a heartbeat before pressing down onto him; your vision whites out from the almost uncomfortable stretch of him as you sink down slowly. You can’t remember the last time the two of you were here, the last time the two of you fucked. Johnny’s nails dig into the underside of your forearm, yours into his chest until you finally reach the hilt.

You hold there for a moment, feeling the way he fills you up - so much so that you don’t think there’s room for anything else besides Johnny - there never has been.  You can’t even think between the feeling of Johnny filling you up and the feeling of not trying to cum so fast. Finally, when your heartbeat slows incrementally, you rock yourself against him, slowly, using his chest as leverage.

Beneath you Johnny is coming undone; he’s biting his lip so hard you think he might draw blood, so you trace your fingertips across his bottom lip. His lips part beneath your touch, and he takes your pointer finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around it.

The feeling makes your hips move faster, stuttering against him. Johnny moans, muffled around your finger. The sound is horribly erotic in the darkness, and it spurs something inside of you to move your hips faster, rougher against Johnny. But he doesn’t move beneath you, still holding himself back. The sound of skin on skin, of how wet you are for him drown out the storm.

Johnny’s hands are everywhere: in your hair, cupping the supple flesh of your ass, pinching and rolling your nipples between his thick fingers; one hand sneaks across the flesh of your hip, dipping between the two of you to circle your clit. The feeling makes you crumple against him; Johnny takes the opportunity to roll you over, pressing you into the mattress.

Johnny presses one of your knees up, hooking it over his elbow so that he can fuck into you, still gentle even when he’s deeper than you think he’s ever been before, his other hand still circling your clit, slowly enough to keep you from falling apart, but fast enough to bring you to the edge. 

His pace grows rougher; you claw at him, drawing red welts across his skin, but Johnny doesn’t slow down. You keep your eyes closed tightly, back arched to try and get him in deeper, to get more.

“Look at me.”

Johnny’s voice is rough, a gentle command you have to follow. His eyes never leave yours, even when his pace increases, the finger on your clit still rubbing tight circles until-

Until you’re breaking apart, shattering beneath him. Your orgasm makes you arch, back nearly leaving the mattress. Johnny’s hands move to cup your face, pulling himself down until he can kiss you as you ride through your orgasm, gasping in his own mouth. Your nails draw thick red welts across his back, but Johnny doesn’t stop pounding into you, your moans drowned out by the way he kisses you.

Not long after, Johnny’s pace starts to stutter, his lips never leaving yours until he plunges in deeper than he had before, and you can feel his warm release spill out inside of you. 

Even when he’s completely spent, Johnny doesn’t pull out of you, instead fucking into you once, twice, three more times until you know you can’t take anymore, hands pressing on his chest to push him away.

Johnny’s fingers smooth your twitching thighs as he pulls away. In the darkness, you can just see his outline as he shifts between your legs, but he doesn’t move from there.

He caresses you until you are finally still and your panting finally slows. His fingers trace across the cracks you can still feel, stitching you back together, shot through with gold.

“Still here?”

“Still here.”

[7ndipity]

Going on tour with Yoongi

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: headcanons and blurb about traveling with Yoongi

Warnings: little angst in the blurb, not proofread

A/N: I had two different requests come in regarding Yoongi's tour, so I decided to combine them, I hope that's okay. Thanks to the lovely anons who requested these, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

He was honestly so happy and excited when you agreed to his suggestion of going with him.

(He didn't want to admit it, but the idea of being away from you for weeks at a time made him feel physically unwell.)

He loved being able to take you to so many places that he'd only been able to tell you about previously.

Obviously, he was usually super tired following a show, so you would typically have a lazy half day, sleeping til noon, before going out sightseeing.

Having you around helped give him a better sense of balance, and gave him something to focus on in the middle of the chaos of tour life.

You two had developed several little routines and habits, even if it was just sitting with you for a bit after he had his hair and makeup done, going over the same checklist that he does every night to make sure you have what you needed for the show.

• "You got everything? Where's your lanyard passes?" He asked, fiddling with a strand of your hair before tucking behind your ear.

"It's in my bag." You said.

"Go ahead and put it on, I don't want you getting getting caught without it or losing it."

"Yes mom-OW!" You teased, earning a pinch from him.

He knows he might be over doing it sometimes with how he fussed over you, but making sure you had everything you needed and were okay made him feel much more comfortable going up on stage.

As much as he worried over you though, you were no better when it came to him, always fussing at him to eat enough, get enough sleep and rest, etc.

You're still one of his biggest supporters tho, always wearing tour merch or something bts related to the shows, even if it's just to get a rise out of him (he laughed for nearly ten minutes when you showed up with a shooky headband)

It made him smile though, knowing that somewhere out in the sea of lights, even though he might not always be able to spot it, there was a particular army bomb with your names scribbled on it.

"Are you okay?" You asked quietly, as you lay in bed.

""I think so, it was just... a lot you know?" He mumbled.

You hummed in response, combing your fingers through his hair, still damp from the shower, as you looked down at him resting against you.

The makeup had been washed away, the stylized waves now resting limp against his face, even the slightly cocky air seemed to have been packed away like his clothes. He was back to Yoongi, not Suga or Agust d, your Yoongi.

The tour had come to a close. Somehow, four months had flicked by before either of you could really grasp it, leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions. Pride, regret, gratitude, fear, joy. Tonight had been especially emotional with so many of his members there to cheer him on for the final show.

"You did really well." You whispered.

He didn't respond, only letting out a grunt as your fingers found a knot.

"Is there anything I can do?" You asked.

"You're already doing it." He sighed. "Just by being here."

You were both fell silent again, you would've thought he'd fallen asleep if it weren't for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers where they rested against your sides.

"Thank you," He said suddenly. "For coming with me. I don't know how I would've coped without you."

"You would've managed," You tried to say lightly-heartedly "You made it before without me."

"Yeah, but I don't want to." He said, squeezing you and making your heart tighten in response.

"You have me," You said softly. "Even when I can't be there in person, you've always got me."

So much uncertainty lay ahead, but all that could wait til tomorrow.

Right now, all you both wanted was hold on, keeping each other close as you felt his still slightly uneasy heart calm to a more steady pace against yours.

[bunnys-kisses]

by the fire - astarion ancunin

pairing: astarion ancunin x fem!reader rating:  18+ summary:  ”Astarion.“ You said, ”C'mere."

He looked at you and he saw what was in your hand. You were holding a small pouch and between your pointer and middle finger was a small pipe.  His red eyes looked at you and he smiled, “I see someone was expecting to have fun tonight.”

tags: pwp, drug use (d&d weed), outdoor sex, exhibitionism, high sex, sloppy sex, 2.7k words a/n: don't do drugs

”Astarion.“ You said, ”C'mere."

He looked at you and he saw what was in your hand. You were holding a small pouch and between your pointer and middle finger was a small pipe.  His red eyes looked at you and he smiled, “I see someone was expecting to have fun tonight.”

While most thought that it was just grass, the herbs that grew south of the nearby town could be smoked. And In all honesty, you enjoyed the after effects of it, even if it left you with a small headache come morning.

It was just the two of you, all alone in the big forest. Might as well have a little fun.

The fire was bright as you two sat on the shared bed roll together. You had the pipe, a pack of matches and the herbs. Astarion was already on you as you tried to put the ground up herbs into the pipe.

  “You're going to make me spill it, asshole.“ You giggled as his teeth scraped your neck. You couldn't be mad at him for long.

He used to be prudish towards your consumption of something more recreational, that was until he had your blood. It turned out that the high could be passed if he drank your blood. While you smoked it, he simply had a sip of that sweet blood.

You used the match to light the pipe. You inhaled and your mouth filled with smoke. You coughed as you exhaled, the pungent smell of the smoke filled the air. As you coughed you tried to hand the pipe over to your lover.

He chuckled, ”No, no, I'll get my taste when I bite you.“ He smirked against your neck before he threatened to bite down on the skin.

You took another inhale and felt a shiver run through your body. You felt in a daze by the third hit. You were certain whatever lived in these woods could smell your good time. While wine was nice, as was mead, there was something about getting your hands on the herbs. It was a special occasion.

You felt a throb in your core by the time you were done. Everything felt like it had a soft hue to it. You were clearly not in a focused state of mind. You gasped when Astarion kissed your neck again.

  ”Astarion.“ You said quietly.

  ”I know, I can smell your blood.“ He smirked, ”So sweet, it made me almost lose control. Sometimes I want to devour you entirely. He could taste the high in your blood before he took his taste.

You giggled and fell to the side onto the bedroll. You laughed even harder which made Astarion pull away and stare down at you. You covered your face with your hands as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

You heard about people who could do many things while high, but not you. You ended up in a mess of giggles and beyond turned on. But Astarion was more than happy to relieve that.

  “Look at me, my love.” He smiled down at you. He moved the pipe away from your hand so you wouldn't burn yourself. Those red eyes only seemed brighter by the campfire, “Look at me.” He said softly.

You marginally moved your hands away from your face so you could look at him. You noticed his eyes before anything which made you swallow. Your heart skipped a beat.

  “I thought it took a while to take effect.”

  “I think I took too much.“ You replied, ”I was given a lot. Now every time I look at you I can't help but laugh. You're making me blush.”

He crowded your space and gently kissed your cheek, “Well then, let me help you with that. Be a good girl and stay still for me.”

  “Astarion.“ You drawled out but before you could cover your face again, he pinned your arms to the bed roll and went for your neck. You moaned loudly at the sensation of his digging into your neck.

You gripped onto the bed roll under you and arched your back. It made your pulse quicken from the sensation and felt like it was stuffing cotton in your brain.

  ”Shit.“ You moaned as you pressed your body against your lover. Your breathing was ragged as he had his fill of your blood. You heard him moan against your neck.

He held onto you tightly as he feasted. He could feel the high in his system. This was so much more efficient than smoking. He rubbed his clothed cock up against you as he sank his teeth deeper.

You whimpered, knowing there would be a bruise in the morning. You felt a bit of blood drip into the collar of your shirt. You clung to the bedroll as he finished up his drink.

He groaned against your skin and rested his head against you. He felt the pulse under his lips. He licked at the wound gently to stop the bleeding. His breathing was heavy as he gathered the last bit of blood on his tongue.

He threw his head back and exhaled, ”Shit." He panted before he looked down at you. His pupils looked bigger than before and there was a haze in his gaze at you. He let go of your wrist and brushed a hand through his hair. ”Perfect.” He said.

You swallowed and let him touch you gently. His hand quivered as he touched your face, you leaned into the touch and gazed up at him. You felt your heart in your throat.

  ”You are perfect.“ His lips were a little more loose as he felt the effects of the drugs in his system. He exhaled deeply, ”I mean it, I look at you and I see the whole world in front of me.“ He smiled, ”I can't get enough of you.“

  “You’re such a sweet talker.” You giggled, “You just want to get in my pants.” You moaned when he placed one last kiss on you. When he pulled away you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for another searing kiss.

Astarion looked at you with lust in his eyes when he eventually pulled away. Under the light of the fire, he had an expression on his face that made it very clear that he was inebriated. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he started to get his shirt off. He exposed the scars of his back to the open night air.

You swallowed and reached out for him. You draped your arms around his neck, you felt some of the scar tissue under your fingertips. You relaxed onto the bedroll as you watched him toss the shirt to the side. Your eyes met once more and you smiled.

You felt the high course through you as you laid there. The night air felt nice against your heated skin. You breathed deeply as you felt a slight pain in your lungs from smoking. You touched the scars on his back when he came closer once more.

  “Let us get out of our clothes. I feel like we’ll be more comfortable.”

You smiled and kissed him once more. The high became more intense once you parted. He gave you room to get your clothes. He gazed at your naked body for a brief moment before he started to undress further, you had to help him as the high made it a little difficult to keep balanced.

Once he was nude, your eyes lingered down between his legs. His cock was impressive, a little under eight inches and rather thick. He was erect which only made it slightly more intimidating. But you weren’t afraid, in your high state, you were elated by the size of it.

  “Does my love like what she sees?” He asked as he reached down and grazed a finger across your jaw, “I can see it in your eyes, you want me.” He chuckled, that soon became a full laugh, “You look like a lost puppy who needs cock.”

You blushed, “It’s not like that. I love you, Astarion. For more than just your body.” You moaned when he closed the gap between you too and left kisses all over your chest. Your nipples grew hard from the sensation as he cupped your breasts in his hands. You kicked out your leg slightly but he kept you down on the bedroll.

He groaned against your heated skin as he felt pre-cum drip down from the tip of his cock. His kisses were plentiful as he scattered them across your chest. He sighed before he continued kissing. He eventually focused his attention on your right nipple which he gazed at with his fangs which made the bud harder.

You yelped and tried to move back but he kept you pinned. He dropped his hips against your thigh where he rubbed his cock up against you in anticipation for what was to come. He could feel the throb in his body as he sucked your nipple. He eventually left it bruised before he went to the other one.

  “Stay still.” He said quietly. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth before he went back to pleasing you via your chest.

You moaned, “Please, Astarion. It feels so good.” Your voice was so meek and small, it aroused his further. Your nails dug into his back as he licked your nipple with broad strokes of his tongue. You could feel the stutter in your heartbeat the more he pleasured you.

  “I want you.” He said, 'You have given me the best high of my life.’ He nipped your chest, careful not to break the skin. Any more blood and he would sleep a lot earlier than he hoped. With one last kiss over the center of your chest before he pulled away.

He gazed down at you as his chest rapidly rose and fell. He pushed the hair out of his eyes before he grabbed you by the waist and rubbed his cock up against you. He could feel heat settle in his body as his cock throbbed for you. He wanted you, he needed you more than he needed air.

You held onto the bedroll under you and let him guide you in the position he needed you in. You hooked your legs around his waist as he rubbed his erection against you. He teased you for a little bit, then built the anticipation for sex. He was always theatrical like that.

  “Do you like that, my love?” He asked. He felt fuzzy all over, but his cock felt painful. He knew he couldn’t keep the teasing up for much longer or else he wasn’t going to last. He swallowed back a hard groan as he felt the wetness between your legs.

  “I do.” You whimpered. The high was a thrum in your body, paired with the pleasure of sex you felt almost dizzy. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt him insert his cock inside of you. But once he was all the way in, you were able to relax.

  “Shit.” He sighed, “You feel so good.” His hands were back on your chest as he started to thrust in and out of you. His aw tensed for a moment as he felt the pleasure pool in his gut. Sweat cooled on his back as he massaged your breasts.

You whimpered and moaned loudly in the night air. You tried to meet his pace with quick rolls of your hips. Your eyes squeezed shut once more as you repeatedly moaned out his name. You felt excitement for being so intimate with him.

The heat consumed your body as you rutted against him. Your nipples remain hard as the two of you move against one another in a situation of passion. The high in your body only heightened the pleasure between you too.

His eyes were on your breasts as they moved with each thrust. He licked his lips at the sight of them. You looked like a dream. You were his in every sense of the word. Mind, body and soul. But you had the same as him in return. Bound together like a pair of souls. Linked until the end of days.

He craned his neck to look at your face. He got closer until he was kissing you once more. You could taste the residue of your blood in his mouth. Which in turn made your pulse race. Your toes curled in your socks as the pleasure built up between you two. He raked his nails down your chest and abdomen as he moved. You gasped into the kiss as his cock hit just the right spots. You left red lines on his back as you tighten your legs around his waist.

Out in the woods, just the two of you in an uncompromising position. Any being could see what you were doing by the campfire light. Out in the open.

Your head felt abuzz, the high was starting to taper off due to the rush of blood in your body and the movements of sex. But the high of sexual pleasure kept you feeling content. You loved having sex with your lover, your Astarion.

The hard ground was tough on your back, but the intimacy with your partner made up for it. You felt the edge of orgasm creep up on you. Your heartbeat quickened as his cock dragged against your inner folds.

The kiss continued, he left them all over your face with special attention to your lips till they felt tender to the touch. You panted wildly, you clenched around him. Your grip was tight on him as he thrusted his cock into you.

  “Astarion.”

  “My love.”

Two lovers, it was that simple.

You moaned into his kisses, your arms dropped to the bedroll and kept a tight hold of it as you arched. With a few more thrusts of your lover’s hips, you clenched around him tightly and climaxed. You let out a loud moan as you came.

He admired your beauty as you climaxed. A cold shiver of excitement went through his body. He held onto your hips, feeling the soft flesh, as he started to thrust inside of you. The overstimulating of him fucking you left you almost squealing from the heightened feeling.

Your head spun as he continued to move. You could hear his heavy breathing but your head felt full of nothing. Everything had a heightened yet fuzzy feeling to it as the strength of the herbs plus the pleasure made its way through your body. You laid there while he fucked you, unable to do much but accept the continued pleasure from Astarion.

He humped against you, his cock ached with a want for a climax. His breathing was heavy and he felt sweaty in the open forest air. He continued to bounce you off his cock as he attempted to achieve orgasm. He could almost feel your hammering heartbeat as the two of you fucked under the stars.

A vampire and his lover, having sex like animals under the vast night sky. It made him smile briefly and with one last hard thrust he finished inside of you. He let out a hiss through his teeth as he released into you, and painted your insides white.

He dropped your hips and almost fell on top of you as he managed to steady himself. The rush of the high and of the sex left him feeling dizzy for a moment. His mouth felt dry as he let out a harsh cough in an attempt to come to his senses once more.

Soon you both made yourselves comfortable on the bedroll. You had no intention of getting dressed just yet, you laid there admiring your naked beauty. You occasionally kissed even though your lips felt numb. He rubbed your ass in small circles as he held you.

 “We should get dressed or else we’ll pass out like this.” You said drowsily.

 “I’d usually say who cared, but the idea of someone seeing you this way makes me feel a little… Jealous.”

You giggled and yawned, “Never change, my Astarion, never change.”

[lostgirl677]

Negan's wife

One-shot

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Established relationship

Masterlist

TW: language, sexual comments, near assault, violence, blood

A/N: this is the first time I write for Daryl Dixon and I'm a bit nervous. I hope I did okay

Since that fateful night, I’ve been locked up here, sitting alone on the bed, the only furniture of this weird room. I didn't even know how much time had passed. And no matter how many times I tried to force that damn door open, it wouldn’t move. I just let out an exasperated sigh as I sat on the floor. I didn’t know what Negan had in mind when he took both Daryl and I with him, but it sure meant trouble. But the worst part was that I didn't know where Daryl was and if he was okay. I haven't seen him since they unloaded us from that truck. So here I was, alone and scared. Not scared for myself but for Daryl, for our people. I still had the images of the bloodied corpses of our friends, laying there. But instead of letting myself go insane, I tried to focus on what I could do to get Daryl back and to run away from this place. And I would have to be creative since they took all my weapons.

As I was lost in my thoughts, I suddenly perceived the noise of footsteps coming near my cell. My heartbeat quickens, ready for a fight if needed. I promptly jumped on the bed to get as far as I could from whoever entered the room. I heard a key unlocking the door and as the handle turned, I could feel my heart beating in my throat. When the door opened, The first people I saw were some of his goons. After each four of them entered and placed themselves on each side of the door, Negan entered. How I wish I could erase the smirk on his face with my crowbar. He snapped his gloved fingers and one of his goons, Dwight,came next to me and put a black dress next to me. I threw a look at the dress and then at Negan. His smile grew bigger. 

Anger filled my veins when I noticed that Dwight wore Daryl’s clothes. I jumped on my feet and asked “What do you want? Where’s Daryl? Why does this fucker wear his clothes?” “Damn! This guy may never shower but he sure as hell has a fine taste in women.”Negan said, practically undressing me with his eyes as I stood up. He smiled at me and said “Calm down sweetheart. No need to get your panties in a twist. We are civilized people, we can talk calmly.” I scoffed at ‘civilized’, which made him smile even more. He then said “To answer your first question, I’m here to make you one of my wives, hence the black dress.” I grabbed the dress and threw it at him “You can shove it in your ass!” I screamed as he caught the dress mid-air. “Language, sweetheart. Damn! I like you.” I just gave the middle finger with a forced smile. He smiled and then continued “To answer your second question, Daryl is taken care of and..” “If you lay as much of a hand on him, I'll kill you all.”, I said, getting dangerously close to him. “Eh! Don't worry sweetie, I never do the dirty job. But you might like to talk to Dwighty-boy here. He's the one in charge of your lover’s captivity.” I turned my head to my left to throw the blond guy the dirtiest look I could. Dwight seemed to gulp as I kept looking at him.

It seemed to amuse Negan as he looked at the both of us. “Oh, I see you already met. Good, then you’re already familiar with some people here.To answer your last question, D. got promoted. He was allowed to take your dirty biker’s stuff.” My blood was boiling at this point. I was already preparing my fist to punch Negan square in the face when he suddenly closed the distance between us and whispered in ear “You don’t want Daryl to become chow for the dead, right? Believe me, you want to be a good wife.” He was too close for my comfort. But I stayed stone faced, not dismissing the threat underlying his sweet talk. He then looked at me and added “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll look sexy as hell in the black dress.” He approached his hand to caress my hair but I smacked it as I kept looking at him straight in the eyes.”Don’t touch me!” I hissed through my gritted teeth. He laughed loudly, earning the laughs of the guys behind him “And she's feisty too. I made the right choice choosing you, sweetheart.” We kept eye contact until he broke it to call his goons. “See you tomorrow, darling.” He said one last time, winking at me as he closed the door and locked it.

Instead of sleeping, I spent the night trying to find a way to negotiate with him. Or even a plan to find Daryl and escape with him. But the only way was to bluff or just blatantly lie to get what I want. And after hours of racking my brain for a solution, I decided something.I just hoped it worked the way I wanted to. All I could do was to hope that Daryl was still alive.

In the morning, I heard someone unlocking my door. I readied myself to attack just in case, my breathing getting louder as my heartbeat was going crazy. Then Dwight appeared, with a huge grin on his half-burned face and a tray of food in  hands. “Hello, Y/N. You slept well?” I threw him a look and replied “Go to Hell.” He chuckled and said “Guess someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” I didn’t reply, just threw him a dirty look. Then I noticed. All I could see was fresh blood on Daryl’s clothes. Seeing red suddenly, I jumped on him, grabbing Daryl’s shirt and screamed “What did you do to him?! What did you do?!” He had let go of the tray in a noise of broken dishes and seemed panicked. He tried to get free from my grip but I was too angry to let go that easily. “Answer me! What did you do to Daryl?!” 

“Y/N, calm down!” It made me even more angry, so angry that I kicked him in the balls. He fell to the floor with a less than virile scream. As he clutched his privates with one hand, he used the other to reach a pocket in Daryl’s shirt and got a small box out of it that he threw at my feet. He then said through laboured breathes ”The fucker apparently wanted to pop the question. Too bad he’ll never get to.” I grabbed the box and kicked him harder in the ribcage. And I kept hitting him, adding blood on Daryl’s clothes. I would have killed him if some other guys hadn’t heard his screams. I was blinded by a devastating anger, I couldn’t stop myself. Until one of these guys grabbed me by the shoulders to get me away from Dwight. The goons threw me violently on the bed and helped Dwight up. With that, they locked the door again.

As the anger slowly passed, I suddenly realized how reckless I’ve been. I was sure that Dwight would torture Daryl even more. I curled on the bed, clutching the tiny box in my hand. Daryl wanted to propose to me. He really loved me this much. This statement was a shock to me. In another world, we would have a real wedding with all our friends alive and well. This brought tears in my eyes that I quickly wiped as I heard the door opening again. I didn’t know how much time had passed, again. But it sounded like trouble. Just like the last time, Negan appeared with his goons, including a bloodied Dwight. It was the moment to take action.

“Well, well, well. Hello Y/N. Heard you had one hell of a morning.” he said in his insufferable sing-along tone. Instead of replying, I got closer to him, stood straight and looked him in the eyes when I said “If i become one of your wives, you let Daryl go” His smile didn’t falter but grew bigger. “Very straightforward I see. I like that. But, well sweetheart, it’s not a question to ask.” I stayed with an emotionless face when I declared with determination “I wasn't asking. I'm telling you  how it's gonna be.” Much to my irritation, Negan laughed loudly.”Aren’t you a confident one, darling?” He said as he booped my nose. I immediately slapped his hand out of my face.He wasn’t even upset by my gesture and said “Bold of you sweetheart. I don’t know how it works with Rick. But I’m afraid that it's not how it works here.”

Instead of getting angry, I tried to hold my wrath inside and said “If you don't want me to raise hell, you better accept”. He giggled and leaned his hands to his knees to look at me. “.What are you gonna do, huh? You are alone here sweetie. And loverboy won’t help you.” he cooed as if he was talking to a pretty stupid little girl. How much I wanted to punch him. But I had to remain calm, somehow. Dwight suddenly said “Uh, Negan? She’s really violent”. He was instinctively protecting his junk just in case. It made me smirk “See ? Listen to Freddy Krueger over here. He knows what I'm talking about” I said, pointing at him. Negan threw Dwight a condescending glance before turning his attention back at me, smiling brightly.``Well, you really have fire inside. I’m definitely keeping you”. He said with a laugh.”Well, it was good to have a laugh. Now, put your dress on and get ready. Someone will come to get you in ten minutes.” He said as he got out of the room rapidly.

As I zipped the dress, I tried to ponder whether I should put Daryl’s ring on my finger or not. I didn’t want Negan to take it from me. But I decided to keep it hidden on my necklace.He already took the man I love away from me. I had to act carefully, now. I didn’t know what they were doing to Daryl, but it sure fueled my nightmares. We’ve been through everything since Atlanta and it took one asshole with a barbeled bat to separate us. When I’d get the opportunity, I’d definitely gut Negan. I swore it to myself and to Daryl. I heard the door getting unlocked again and a giant guy came to get me.

The walk to my mysterious destination was quite chilling. The corridors had a cold atmosphere to them. It wasn’t welcoming. Hell, even the prison seemed more cozy than this. As we walked in the maze-like building, something suddenly caught my attention out of the corner of my eyes. Brown long hair and blue eyes. I swiftly snapped my head to see Dwight pushing  someone violently in a small room. It was Daryl, I knew it. Thus, I tried to sneak away from the giant guy to run in the direction of the room but he caught me by the arm. “Where do you think you’re going, doll?” he said as he dragged me away. I could hear an irritating song blasting from here. That’s where they were keeping him. I then swore to myself to note the path we took to find his cell next time.

When giant guy pushed the door in front of us, I caught a glimpse of the room. There were sofas everywhere as well as bottles of alcohol. And there were at least ten very attractive women dressed in the same kind of dress as me. He left me here and got back to whatever was his job. I quickly felt uneasy when all the women snapped their heads to look at me. I felt really awkward to be the center of attention so I tried to find a quiet place in the room. They didn’t even try to come to talk to me, which was fine by me. All I had in mind was the glimpse of Daryl I had in the corridor. His back was almost arched. I never saw him like that, even at his worst. They were breaking him, destroying him completely. I couldn’t stand it. Tears were brought to my eyes again as the images kept replaying in my mind. I just closed them to keep me from crying. “Hey! You okay?” asked a woman’s voice next to me. 

Surprised, I opened my eyes and wiped them with the back of my hand. And I looked at the mysterious woman. She was a brunette with brown eyes. “Uh, yeah, yeah. It’s okay. I’m okay.” She looked at me emphatically and said “I’m Sherry. Aren’t you Daryl’s girlfriend?” I almost gasped. “What? You know him?” She looked at me a bit embarrassed. “Well, let’s say we met in the woods.” “You’re the one who stole his crossbow and his bike!” I exclaimed, suddenly understanding. She seemed even more embarrassed. “Well, you mugged my husband earlier today. Let’s say we’re even.” I almost choked. “You’re married to that scumbag?! The very one torturing Daryl, right now?!” I said angrily even though it wasn’t her fault. “Yeah, I was. Now I’m Negan’s wife. Just like you.” I felt like I could trust her, somehow. But I couldn’t risk anything here.I was sure there were snitches waiting for some intel to give to Negan. So I just nodded my head and kept to myself.

I spent some time in silence, lost in my mind when I noticed that the sofa I was on dipped under someone's weight. “Hey! New girl.” I tried to focus again on the real world to see a beautiful woman next to me. “Yeah?” She smiled at me and said “Tonight’s your special night. You should get ready.” “What do you mean?” Confusion was probably written all over my face because she added “ Negan’s gonna mark you as officially his. We’re here to prepare you, he’s quite rough the first time. He gotta show you who’s in charge I guess” I felt the blood draining from my face. “You mean, he’s gonna…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. “ Yeah. But don’t worry. It’ll hurt for a few days then you’ll get used to it. Just be prepared psychologically.” I wanted to run away, as far as I could. But I had to pull through. For Daryl. He must never know about it.

The fateful moment was here. I was escorted to Negan’s room and was waiting for him to come. It was the moment to find a weapon quickly. I ran to his drawers and tried to rummage through his stuff. After fruitless effort, I finally pricked my finger to some kind of tiny knife.Relief washed over me as my fingers curled around it. It was tiny enough to hide it. But I didn’t have much time to think about it when I heard the doors. “Eager I see.” He said in a smug tone as he saw me next to his bed. I turned to face him. His smile was the most horrendous thing I saw in my life. This predatory look in his eyes, full of lust, disgusted me. He swiftly approached me and began to unzip my dress. I couldn’t help but try to get out of his reach. He paused and asked, surprised “What ? Don’t tell me Tough guy never touched you?” I turned my head to not see him. “ It's a sin, really.” And as he kept unzipping my dress he added “Well his loss.” And he let his hands wander on my body. I had to hold down my urge to throw up. Daryl would never do something like this without my consent. He would never treat me like this. But I had to play the game to get where I wanted. 

Negan made me face him. I was just waiting for him to get closer. My heartbeat quickened, it would be my moment soon. He was so focused on my breast that he didn’t see anything else. I wanted to punch him so hard but what was waiting for him was better. Swiftly, before he could react I got the knife out of the pocket of my dress to press it on his neck, next to the carotid. His eyes widened and he took his hands off me. But instead of panic, he seemed amused. What the hell was wrong with him? A trickle of blood was running down his neck.'' Why do you have to kill the vibe, uh missy? I thought we were getting cozy, here.” he said casually, as if I wasn’t threatening him at all.” As I was stucking the knife deeper in his skin, he swifty grabbed my hand to get the knife and added “Unless it’s some kind of kink?” He slowly  licked  the knife. HIs eyes were full of lust. Out of anger, I spat in his face. He wiped his face with an even bigger smile but there wasn’t any joy in it. “Well, you can’t tell I didn’t warn you last night.” 

The next thing I knew, he was dragging me half undressed and my hair in a mess through the cold corridors. He then stopped. “You only want the dirty redneck? Well, knock yourself out! I’ll come back later and I'll be less charming, believe me.” I locked eyes with him one last time and spat in his face again. WIthout any other word, he threw me in a cell. The first thing I noticed was the terrible smell. But the worst was him. Daryl was here. My heart broke when I saw him all curled up in a ball on the floor. “Daryl.” I called softly. But he didn’t react nor acknowledged my presence. “Daryl. Hey! It’s me, Y/N”. Carefully, I got closer to him and caressed his hair.I felt him stiffen at my contact.That’s when the tears finally escaped from my eyes.”What did they do to you?” I asked as I kept crying. Then I heard his broken voice ask quietly“Y/N? Ya real?”. I saw him slowly getting in a sitting position. “Yeah, it’s me.” Relief seemed to wash over him until he noticed my poor state. He tried to wipe my tears away. His rough hand never felt so soft on my skin. “What happened? What did he do to you?!” he asked anxiously, probably expecting the worst. “He didn’t…? Please tell me he didn’t. They kept tellin’ me horrendous things he did to ya. I’m gonna kill him.” I put my hand soothingly on his when I assured him. “No, he didn’t. Didn’t have the time.” Daryl sighed in relief.

He then approached his hand to my shoulder to get the fabric of the dress to hide my bra.Clumsily, his hand got untangled in my necklace and found the ring. His head dropped and he said “Was supposed to pop the question. But I don’t think..” “Yes, Daryl. I want to marry you.” I slowly got closer to him and kissed him as I was supposed to after all this time. “I don’t know how or when. But I’ll get us out of here. I promise."

A/N : feedback is welcome. I think I need advices to write Daryl correctly 😅

[eroticdarling]

⭒-.⋆♡ 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 — 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐

ᥫ᭡. 𝑨𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒋𝒐 𝒅𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔

ᥫ᭡. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐 𝒊𝒔 𝟏𝟖

ᥫ᭡. 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — ♡ 𝑷𝒐𝒄.ᐟ𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ♡ 𝑷𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒙 ♡ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ♡ 𝑽𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♡ 𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆 ♡ 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌 ♡ 𝑩𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♡ 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌 ♡ 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 (𝑴𝒂 × 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 × 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 × 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔) ♡ 𝑬𝒅𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♡

Satoru woke up in the middle of the night with an erection. Now he needs help, and since he knows that his pretty girlfriend will help him with anything, you're on speed dial.

When you don't answer the first time, best believe he's calling you multiple times until you finally answer your phone.

"Hello?" You say groggy as you look at the time that reads three in the morning.

"Princess, help me real quick." Satoru's deep voice sounded as if he had just woken up as well.

"Satoru! What the hell do you want at three somethin' in the fuckin' morning?" You start getting somewhat irritated that your sleep was interrupted.

"Stop with the attitude and jus' help me out." He retorts back.

"With what?" You asked, now confused.

"I woke up rock hard and I need your help, ma." He answered.

"What do you want me to do about it?" You asked dumbfounded, not wanting to fix his situation.

"Jus' FaceTime me and keep talkin' baby," Satoru demanded already pushing the FaceTime button.

You answer his FaceTime call, already seeing him sitting up on the sheeted bed with his shirt off, revealing the man's toned abs as well as his long, thick hardness with a blushed tip dripping with precum being halfway in the camera.

His crystal blue eyes looked at you through the phone, which made you wet also seeing him put himself on display.

"C'mon pretty, be a good girl and prop your phone in front of you." He talked in such a deep but silk tone that was addicting to you.

Just hearing him like this was a one-way ticket into your panties, and he knew this just as much as you did, which made you not go against his demand and do exactly what he said.

You sat up wrapped around your blanket, covering your naked body while putting one of your pillows in the middle of the spot where you were sleeping, and then propped your phone there at a respectable angle so your boyfriend could get a good look at you.

"So now what?" You asked already knowing the answer.

"Don't play like you don't know," Satoru said, being sassy while growing impatient for you to give him what he wanted.

"Okay, okay." You say in defeat, uncovering yourself with your legs spread open, giving him the perfect view of your wet heat.

You put your index and middle fingers inside your mouth, giving it a thick coat of saliva before going down to your soft clit and lightly massaging it while maintaining eye contact with your boyfriend.

Your back arched while the feeling of your cold spit with a mixture of cold air touched between your legs delicately, giving you a delightful feeling.

"This is what you wanted, Toru~?" You asked as you touch yourself, already seeing his hand move up and down his dick with his ocean eyes focused on your movements.

"Y-Y'know what to call me." He stuttered as his hand moved in sync with yours at a fast pace.

"D-Daddy~" you moan out in a whisper, trying not to wake up your parents in the other room.

You then move your hand from your clit to your aching hole filling it up with both fingers and thrusting them inside you.

"Hmmm... I can't hear you." He bit his bottom lip as his eyes tried to close shut from the ecstasy he felt pumping himself harder to your pretty face and cunt.

"My parents—"

"I don't care— I jus' wanna hear you, ma— Please." He groaned, begging to hear you.

"F-Fuck— I-I want you, Daddy!" You moaned a bit too loud, but you didn't care cause you were already close to your orgasm by the way your fingers plunged deep into your warm pussy deliciously.

"M-mhm princess, tell me how much you want my c-cock to fill you up." His dick twitched at the sound of you and how your fingers went inside you.

"I-I want to feel your cock deep in me s' fuckin' bad." You beg for him as your fingers went as deep as they can go, your free hand grouping your breasts to receive more friction with the feeling of a knot tightening in your stomach.

Hearing you beg for him, Satoru's head fell back, putting his Adam's apple on full display as he stroked himself fast, then slow and back fast, edging himself with his teeth biting harder on his lip.

You couldn't take it anymore, the perfect view of your boyfriend beating himself to you, the groans he made as if he wanted the real thing, it was all too much for you.

"I have to cum Daddy~," you say as your legs jerked with every movement of your fingers while your body heat got hotter.

"C'mon, pretty girl, cum with daddy." He finally looks at you with half-lidded eyes.

The knot in your stomach felt like it was about to unravel and Satoru's cock was also twitching a few times indicating y'all were on the edge of your orgasms, but before you both could cum, you suddenly hear a knock at your door, which makes your heart drop.

It scared you to the point that you unintentionally hung up the phone with Satoru, then quickly put the covers over your head while kicking the pillow off the bed in the process.

Fully covered, you distinctively hear the door crack open for a few seconds before it quietly closes back, and then hear your parents' room door close.

You pull out your phone from under you and quickly text Satoru.

Y/N

One of my parents just came in to check on me.

I told you I couldn't be that loud!

My husband ᡣ𐭩

Oh well, I'm coming over anyway

Leave the window cracked open

Also, you'll have to make sure to be quiet while I stuff my dick in you, too 🤭💙

Y/N

Hurry up. It's open.

You roll your eyes with a blush across your face at his last comment as you get up from under the covers and go to the window to open it a bit for your boyfriend.

Laying back in bed, scrolling through social media, you wait patiently for Satoru to come so he can back up what he said.

[dollwritesarchive]

one of my favorite headcanons for dio is that he doesn't allow his darling to wear panties. maybe even forbids it. he just loves easy access <3

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, dubcon, edging, fingering, little bit of degradation/humiliation because dio is and always will be a big meanie, almost blade play ( his sharp ass nails ), suggested past abuse / sexual conditioning ( from dio ), orgasm denial / control, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ it’s always a good day when i get to write filth for the man, the myth, the legend: dio brando. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

“Do you even have the faintest clue why panties are forbidden, pet?” Dio asks, without looking up from the book resting against his crossed knees. “Page.”

with your fingers trembling, you obediently flip the page he’s done reading, shaking your head with a muffled and shy, “Nn— Nn.” with the hemming of your skirt stuffed into your mouth, you’re forced to bite down on it and keep it in place, high and out of the way of your vampire lord’s malignant digits.

the room was icy cold, but you weren’t trembling because of that. your thighs were shaking and sticky from his constant, torturously slow stroking of your sex. the length of his finger slotting between your weeping folds to probe, and you clench around air with a timid whimper. then, his thick knuckle grazed in circles, until your back arched and you tried to ride it. he would, then satisfied with your desperation to be stretched open, drag the sharpest point of his dagger-like, abysmal nail to tease your tender clit, threaten to cut into you.

your body wants to jerk back, escape his cruel taunting, but you were trained much better than that. you stood as still as you could, with your knees bent inwards against each other so that they don’t buckle, and watch his hand disappear between your legs as he tenderizes your sex, and then reappear a few moments later, sticky with your essence.

“No?” he teases, quirking a brow, but his crimson eyes stay locked on the page he’s currently reading, “Of course not. Why should you? After all, does a lapdog understand why it is that her master smacks her muzzle for yapping too loudly? Or does she simply accept that to yowl incessantly will get her popped in her pretty, little face?” there were memories behind his metaphor— the scariest moments of your time with Dio, when you disobeyed or annoyed him. you, too, had found your cheek stinging from his massive palm making contact, and had been banished from his lap to sleep on the cold, hard stone floor for your insolence.

“Page.”

you turn to the next. and you nod to show that you understand: it didn’t matter if you knew why Dio put the rules in place that he did for you, all that mattered was that you obeyed them.

“But, I will tell you.” two fingers worm their way to spread your netherlips apart, and you mewl and grip bundles of chiffon with your teeth, saliva soaking through the fabric. “I will never allow you to wear panties because of this right here. How easy it is to edge your soft, warm cunt when she’s completely exposed. Vulnerable.” when you shudder at the sordid way each syllable rolls off his sinful tongue, you catch a peek at his impish grin, before he jabs his middle finger against your entrance, with just enough force to feel your canal try to welcome the digit in, but he doesn’t slip it inside.

“L—Lord D—Dio!” you cry, the need to feel him take you all but overwhelming and you careen against his hand, hoping to coerce his fingers inside, “P—pleeeethhh…” you mumble, slurred, through your makeshift gag.

“I will have your little cunt drooling and tender for me whenever I please. Like she is right now, so hungry for cock that you can hardly stay upright. Milking air, wishing, begging for me to fuck it. You want me right now, don’t you? You want nothing more than for me to hollow you out? Break your body and your mind with my cock?”

you nod fervently, eyelids heavy with lust from his words alone, and your hips twitch and wriggle, whining for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

his eyes turn up from the page, and stare at your visage, nearly convulsing on his palm, before his tongue scrapes over a pearly fang, one signature dimple visible in the candlelight as he croons. “How much longer can you take this teasing, I wonder? Minutes? Hours?” you were shaking your head, hot tears in the corners of your eyes, but he kept going, as if he enjoyed how nervous the idea of being edged for hours made you. how frightened it made you. “Or perhaps, I leave you soiled and needy now, and play with you every day following, you’ll wake up, tied to my bed, with me between your legs, sucking on your sugary cunt— bringing you right to the very cusp of orgasm and then snatching it away from you no matter how you beg and cry for a release, until you’re so sensitive that the very sound of my voice in the dark alone forces you to cum.” your eyes roll back, defeated and moaning pathetically as he pulls his hand back from between your hips. your jaw hangs slack; the skirt of your dress sagging back into a skewed version of its place, and Dio shoves his dripping fingers into your mouth instead, forcing you to taste just how badly you want him, pushing them deep until you gurgle and choke on them. “The possibilities to torment you are endless and exciting, my love, and that’s why you will never wear panties again. Turn the Page.”