#listen all i have are vibes and flashes of ideas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bi-writes · 20 days ago

Text

attached | ghost x f!reader

i have no idea what it is that binds us together. but it doesn't really matter.

type: one-shot (8.4k)

cw: zombie apocalypse au, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, dark!reader, reader described as curvy/plus-sized + has hair long enough to braid, graphic depictions of violence + murder + gore, depictions of suicidal thoughts + intentions (no actual action), mentions of depression + sadness + loneliness, depictions of assault + harassment (not by ghost), horror movie vibes, unprotected piv, allusions to baby trapping, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving), 18+

Death can be a curious thing. It used to be something definitive. Exact. It used to mean the end of something.

No, now it's a beginning. Not a sweet beginning, but a beginning nonetheless. It turns a new tide. Reactivates cells that were once dead. Sparks nerves that used to be dormant, that used to be dark. It makes muscles move even when they aren't supposed to. Brain-dead, but still hungry.

He hasn't been able to understand the phenomenon quite yet. He's tried. He's picked up a few books and tried to do his own research, but it's difficult when there is no way for him to view the cellular structure of it all on a micro-level. He cannot see the way it grows or how it takes over. He hasn't been able to figure out what techniques it uses to keep a body awake even when the central organs no longer function the way they're supposed to. What keeps it moving? What keeps the feet running and the stomach hungry and the saliva warm?

Why is it that when he plunges his blade through its heart, it still kicks? The brain is its engine, as with his own body, but this is different. The brain runs even when it has lost its necessary components. Blood circulation, oxygen, the things it needs to thrive; but this state of being is not like his own. It doesn't need the same things it used to need because its purpose is not to keep a body running. Its purpose is to eat. To infect. And that is all.

He likes to play games these days. He has a lucky silver euro, one he pried off the dead body of someone that he hated. He spit on that body before raiding his pockets. He hated that fucking brute; he disgraced the style of wearing a mask by using a fucking t-shirt instead. Perhaps Austria is a beautiful country, but it certainly produced one of the most unlikable of men. He thinks even if the world was still right-side up, he would've killed him anyway. The only thing useful about him was that he was carrying a few extra magazines and this coin in his front pocket.

Every morning, when he wakes up, he makes whatever will happen that day a game. If the coin lands on heads, he gets to kill himself today. If it lands on tails, he has to endure 24 more hours before he can play again. The rules are simple. The game is easy. Everyone knows how to play it, but not everyone will like to win it.

Today, he decides to do something different. Today, he decides if he wins, he will wait another day. He has never won this game; he decides if he can't win it, he'll manipulate it until he gets what he wants.

It hits the table with a light clink. It rattles around in a few circles before settling, and when he leans back in his chair, he sighs. He knows what it will be even without looking, but he looks anyway. When he sees the carved outline of its face-side up, his eyes flash. He won.

He never wins.

Something is keeping him here. He chooses not to ask questions. There isn't anyone to ask anyways. No one answers when he speaks. He doesn't think there is anyone left to listen.

If someone would ask him why he doesn't just put the muzzle to his temple and pull the trigger, he would just say that it was because that was how the game is played. Those are the rules. He can't try unless that's what it tells him to do. There is no fun in cheating the game; it wouldn't be proper, it wouldn't be correct. It would be grounds for disqualification, and that just wouldn't do, not for him.

He has to do things the right way. Always. It's how you keep order in a world that has none left. It's how you maintain structure even without the lines drawn in the sand. This is the way things are done; God is not waiting at the end of a very long staircase, He is rattling that coin on the table and waiting for Ghost to take a peek.

He thinks it keeps landing on tails because perhaps God is tired of playing this game with him; Ghost has never been surprised. He will always be ready for disappointment. Giving a gift is no fun when the recipient simply receives it.

It landed on heads today. He won the game. He tried to play it differently, but someone won't let him.

There's snow on the ground this morning. It snowed all night, coating the ground in a few inches of powdery ice. He looks away from the window and back towards the mirror, continue to run the razor over his head. His blonde hair falls in clumps in the sink. He keeps it neat and short, close to the head, and then he does the same with his face. He cuts the stubble close, keeping his face clean, but it doesn't wipe away the rest of his face, the things he can't just cut away. The scars, the ridges, the skin that closed over wounds angry and white and uneven. He can see his teeth through the broken skin above his lip, the yellowing of them now that he only brushes them a few times a week with his lack of proper toothpaste, and he grimaces when he sees the new red spots of raised skin left behind from the dirty mask he wears now. He dips his toothbrush into his bottle of water before brushing, careful to scrub his gums properly before spitting into the sink.

When he finishes, he makes his way back into the bedroom to get dressed. He did the washing yesterday; he found a creek only half frozen over, and he made use of the bar soap he keeps and managed to clean off most of his clothes. He feels a little better slipping into his cargos now that they aren't drenched in sweat or dirt. He tucks a long-sleeve into his pants before putting a thick windbreaker on over it, but he finally feels complete once he slips his mask on over his face. In the mirror, he adjusts it, making the skull straight, and he blinks back at himself. The mask does more than just hide him from the dead.

It keeps the living walking a careful circle around him, and he wants to keep it that way. He hasn't spoken to a single person since it began. He stopped counting the days once his boots ran out of space for notches. Anyone he sees now, he scares them off with one look, or he puts them down before they can take a step closer to finding out if he's real or not.

He doesn't take chances. He has always had a special skill, being able to sniff out the bullshit before it begins. He leans into it now, and it isn't a bullet wasted if it stops the chaos before it can wind up.

He still wears his tactical gear. He can't part with it. His holsters have not failed him, still buckled around his thighs. His vest is still strapped on, and without it, he feels naked. He has long since discarded of the Union Jack patch on his chest; there is no king nor country anymore. They are colors in different shapes, and they mean nothing now; they were buried a long time ago.

His backpack feels light. He's running out of bullets, and he doesn't like how it feels. Nowadays, he has to go further and further to get what he needs, and recently, he's taken to picking up everything and simply moving to make the trips all the easier with no home to go back to.

It's not all that different to the life he had before. He never stayed in one place too long then either. He signed the shortest leases, and he would move once it was up, never lingering and never buying more things than he could carry in the back of his truck. His memories are in his head and nowhere else. He keeps no trinkets. He saves no pictures. There is nothing from the old life that needs to be brought into the new. He shifts between both lives, one foot in the past and one in the future, and he thinks that's what really makes him live up to his name.

He's a Ghost. A drifter. Standing between two places at the same time, not knowing which to stay in and which to leave. It would hurt, if he was really human inside, if he could feel anything at all.

But he's not. His insides are nothing but organic matter. His head is a clock, ticking, counting down, but he's not aware of when it runs out.

He digs the heel of his boot into the snow to gauge the depth. It barely comes up over his toes. He huffs a little before taking a peek at the map tucked into his vest. He had circled a place just north, a main street he is hoping will have a stash of things he will need.

Ammunition. Weapons. Food. Water. A new book, for fuck's sake, maybe a Sudoku puzzle that isn't already scribbled into.

The forest gives him cover, so he sticks to it. Out in the open, he would stick out, dressed in all black. He keeps to the trees, ducking under the leaves and trying not to leave too much of a track behind. He doesn't plan on staying in that cabin again, but if he must, he doesn't want anyone seeing a way to come back to it.

The one thing he does appreciate about this new place is the quiet. It lingers, and it's calm, and when he breathes, the world breathes back. He feels like he had always been telling everyone to shut up, but now, his voice hasn't been used in months. Even when he passes other people, he doesn't speak to them. If they don't spot him, he keeps to the shadows, and if they do, they don't see him for long enough to know what hit them.

It's a good stash. The store had been rifled through by now, but in the office, there had been a nice drawer filled with supplies. A few boxes of ammunition, a revolver, and a new blade to stick in one of his boots. He picks up some other odds and ends. Batteries. A roll of yarn. A small sewing kit. A few pens. His backpack feels a little heavier, and it's a weight he appreciates when he makes his way back outside.

He sticks to the alleyways as he searches for the roof over his head for the night. He decides the cabin he slept in last night was too close to the road; if anyone was driving or following it, they could find that place too easily, and he wouldn't be able to sleep another night comfortably there knowing this truth.

He finds himself veering off road just enough. It's fucking cold, freezing, and he's grateful to the mask for helping him keep it together as he ducks under the wind and keeps an eye out for any nearby landmarks. Sometimes, on slow days like this, he would sit on a ridge and kill infected for sport. Practice focusing his sight, calculating the wind, keep his mind in check by hitting his targets and ridding the world of another one of those things.

There are different kinds of hunters out today.

He hears them before he sees them. He knows what kind they are when he hears their laughter. Low and untamed, sloppy and fucking messy. They always are. These kind spoil their treasures. They eat their food until it makes them sick, and then they do it all over again. They never learn their lesson.

When he settles his rifle down along a fallen tree, he eyes them through his scope. There are two of them. Both are fattened, with dark hair and lazy eyes, and they look greasy. Their clothes are in ruins, and their packs are light, and Ghost figures that they look enough alike to be perhaps brothers, or maybe cousins. Their smiles are equally as sadistic. The taller one tugs something along, and when Ghost aims the scope down a little, he sees her.

Her.

He's dragging her by her legs. She's kicking, but it's hard for her to do much when her arms and legs are bound by mismatched bits of fabric and rope. She's crying, that much is clear, squirming as she spits and gargles around the gag in her mouth as she tries to break free. She has heart, but she isn’t a fighter. If she was, she would’ve realized her teeth could snap that fabric of her gag, and she would know that the knot they’ve tied succumbs easily to upwards pressure.

He follows them. They keep going, dragging you and laughing as they make it to a makeshift camp hidden amongst a clearing. There's a few tents set up, a small dip in the earth to hold a campfire, and when they settle on tree trunks to sit, the smaller one takes a blade and cuts your gag off, leaning over you with a low chuckle. They mean to maim and to take and then to kill, and you know this when you look into his eyes.

"Hello, darling."

"Bite me."

He laughs again, dropping onto his knees over you, but when he gets close enough, you sit up with what little strength you have and bite him along his ear. The cartilage rips, and you tear half his ear off, and then he's scrambling off of you, screaming, holding the side of his head as he rolls around in circles in the snow. He colors it red, and you snarl with satisfaction. Ghost takes a deep breath in and lets it out shakily. The look in your eyes–he can taste that, roll it around on his tongue. You did not clock the poorly-tied knots, but you do see opportunity, and you are the kind to take it.

"You bitch!"

Just as the taller one is about to get on top of you, Ghost decides he's seen enough. He closes one eye, lines up the sight, and he lets out a cool breath as he drops the both of them within a second of each other. They fall easy; a bullet clean through the back of their heads, and now they're finally quiet again. They will not get up, either.

Your lip trembles as you look towards the trees. You watch as the leaves rustle, and when you see a man emerge from the thick of them, you start to cry. You think maybe you're seeing things; you must be so dehydrated, so hungry, that a reaper has come for you, and you are much deader than you thought.

The reaper stares down at you curiously. He swings his rifle over his shoulder, tilting his head to the side as he bends, getting a blade out of his boot before he cuts the restraints that bind you. He doesn’t hesitate when he does this; he does not deem you enough of a threat to keep you bound.

You sit up slowly, wiping your face, and when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to see how human they are. They're dark, but alive, and he has blonde lashes and pale skin underneath. He covers himself, but you can still see him. There's a man under there, not a reaper.

Just a man.

I hate men.

You shake off the rest of the restraints, turning your wrists and ankles and flexing your muscles for good measure. When you realize you are nothing but a little shaken up, you look back up. He's still staring at you, hard eyes lowered in a glare as he looks you over. He's sizing you up, maybe, deciding what to do with you. You meet his eyes one more time before gathering the saliva into your mouth and spitting onto the floor. It's a garbled mess of blood, from the flesh you had severed from that man.

He blinks slowly at that, makes some decision that he doesn’t voice out loud, and then he starts to walk away.

You stand on shaky legs, taking it as your cue. You watch as he rips open the flimsy tents that those men had left behind, and he's already grabbing backpacks and rifling through them for goods. He already starts filling his own vest and backpack with the things he finds; some flashlights, fishing line, more food and ammunition. You follow him, moving to the other tent beside it and starting to grab their things and toss them outside. You get to your knees and open the packs, laying out what you find carefully. They have interesting materials in here, ones you associate with explosives. C4. Lighters. Batteries. Wiring. You clench your jaw when you pull out the last box in the bag.

Condoms.

Bunch of pricks.

He finds your discoveries useful. He opens up an empty pack he found and fills it to the brim with supplies. When he zips it up, your stomach drops when you think he might toss it over his shoulder and leave. It only sinks for a moment before he turns the backpack around, holding it up for you.

You pause for a little and think. It only takes a few seconds for you to decide to stand up and slip your arms through the straps.

When he walks again, you follow.

The sun is setting by the time you find somewhere to sleep, but it looks like luxury to you. A quaint little brick house tucked between the hills, a ways from the road and positively hidden. He spotted it through his scope a few hours ago, and he made a beeline for it. It's difficult to keep up with him; he has incredible stamina and the longest legs. He moves like a ghost, too quiet for his own good. You would never know from looking at him how stealthy he could be. For such a huge man, you would never notice him before he could get the drop on you. It makes you conscious of your own steps and how loud they are, and you try to mimic the way he moves as you keep walking.

You don't know why, but you think he must be very pleased with how quiet you've gotten. You don't know why that fact pleases you, too.

He makes you stay outside when you arrive. He pulls a small handgun out of his backpack, and he checks the chamber before handing it to you. He clicks his tongue, forcing your eyes on his, and he puts a finger to his mask-covered lips, telling you to keep quiet. You take the gun from him, pointing it at the ground and holding it at your side, and he touches a knuckle under your chin before he twists a silencer onto his own gun.

You watch with rapt attention as he clears the house. His movements are quick and calculated, and he keeps low to the ground. It's mesmerizing. Big and capable, one with the shadows. The only thing you see in the dark is the white of the skull over his face, and if you didn't know it was him, you would think that you have just seen God.

But God isn't real. Apparently ghosts are.

He is back outside in less than ten minutes, nodding his head at you. You take it as your cue to come towards him, and you hand him the gun back when you pass him. You go into the house and immediately start to light some of the candles scattered around. You set your backpack down, rubbing your shoulders out, and you take a seat on the couch.

It hits you then, the gravity of it all. Men are your captors, and then they are your savior. They'll never leave you alone. They'll never let you go. You were ruled by their iron fist in a previous life, and you will endure their wrath in this new one.

You start to cry. It's the first sound you've made since screaming. You cover your face with your hands, and you don't know why you feel safe enough to cry, but you do, and it comes out of you fast.

He tilts his head to the side as he watches you. It's a strange thing to see something so...alive. He's used to only seeing things moving that can't speak back to him. If he does see things alive, he puts them down as if they are rabid dogs.

He can't find it in himself to kill you. Something is so odd about it. About you.

Everything about today seems more than coincidence. He won the game today. And then he found you.

When he tries the sink in the bathroom, he's surprised to find it working. He grabs a bowl and fills it with water, and when he comes back into the living room, you are staring at one of the flickering candles blankly, shivering. You have stopped crying, but your face is still wet with fat, lingering tears.

It looks like you've been hit by a brick wall. Your hair is matted in places, in tangles. It’s in desperate need of a cut. It's stuck to your face around the perimeter, caked by sweat and mud and dried blood. Your clothes are in ruins; you wear a ripped jumper, thin jeans, and the soles of your boots are starting to fray and come off, and he can see where you've tried to mend them unsuccessfully with duct tape. You wear no jewelry, and your fingernails need to be cut. Those men have left marks on you, but those will fade.

He kneels in front of where you sit on the couch. Using a threadbare cloth, he dips it into the water and raises it to your face. You show no resistance. You let him wipe your face off, the tears, the dirt, the blood. It stains the cloth ugly, but you can't look at anything else except for his eyes.

They're so dark. Brown, like bark, like honey. You haven't spoken a word to him yet, but the silence is sort of bliss. All you can hear is the drip of the water when he rings out the cloth.

He helped you. He didn't have to. He could've kept walking, but he stayed with you. He didn't leave you. He could've walked away again, but he let you follow.

He isn't a good man. You know that. Anyone who has lasted this long isn't a good person. You've done the same. You've let it take you, once or twice, let the snarl in the back of your throat guide your hand. You've let the voices fester, let them eat at the acid in your stomach until they begged for more, and you won't admit it, but it felt good. Felt good to protect yourself. To rid the earth of something terrible. To say no.

He must understand that. He's decorated in its essence, the one of understanding, the one that says I know what it's like to take matters into your own hands, and he did it with you, too.

He's doing it now, cleaning you up, and you don't know him, or his face, or his name, but you'll try hard to give it back. To give him something. To tell him you are worthy and not useless. It doesn't show today, how far you've come, but you'll try.

"Thank you," you finally whisper. He's dragging the cloth over your bottom lip, and he blinks rapidly, as if a bit startled by hearing your voice. When you speak again, it's to tell him your name, and he thinks for a few moments before continuing, wiping under your jaw.

He doesn't sleep that night. He stares out the window, like a guard dog, and he lets the soft breaths of your sleep keep him awake.

The gas lighter on the stove still works. It takes a match to light it properly, but when the fire starts, you take some of the soup cans from your pack and make breakfast.

Your smile when he comes into the kitchen nearly blinds him. You look more rested than yesterday, and you ladle some soup into a bowl for him, setting it down at the table. He notices the two bowls, his and yours, and he notices that his bowl has more food.

It is then that he decides to keep you.

What he doesn't know is that you've decided the same. The world has thrown you the way out. A man, built like a bear, happy finger on the trigger and capable of getting you out of harm's way. You need to convince him that you are worthy. You need to convince him that you are valuable. A keepsake.

Men are what start wars, not what end them. Men are the cause of chaos and destruction, it is prevalent throughout history, and it is why you are here now, in a place that doesn’t exist, where people don’t breathe the same air anymore. A man thought himself correct, but he was wrong, and he didn’t listen when someone told him otherwise. They are the ones that take advantage of your vulnerability, and instead of trying to understand it, they use it to get what they want.

You can do the same.

You start by mending his clothes. He's laid some out to dry after washing, and you notice the tears in his shirts. When he comes back a little while later, with dinner hanging off his shoulder, you are seated on the couch, feet tucked under you, with a needle in your hand as you sew up one of his shirts.

You've bathed, found new clothes, warmer ones, and your hair is braided and off your face. He hates to say he prefers you a little dirty, but he likes this, too. A natural beauty. A soft face.

You make a real dinner that night. There's canned vegetables that you try to spruce up with the spices you find in the cupboards, but the real meal is the venison you're served. He butchers it outside like a professional, and he sears it on the stove with a perfect touch. When he feeds you that first bite, your mouth explodes with flavor. Your belly is full that evening, and when he blows out the candles for bed, he eats you out in the dark of the corner bedroom.

He's not sloppy like you thought he might be. Not overeager. He's easy with it, casual. Big hunk of a man smothered between your thighs, and he laves his tongue through your folds like his very own personal dessert. He drinks straight from the source, holy water spilling sweet between his teeth, and when he gets his tongue inside of you and holds it there, you nearly leave earth for somewhere else. You come like that, too, his filthy mouth sucking on your clit before he's slipping that tongue in you again, and you mewl against the bed as he tucks his hand under your ass and spreads you wider.

He tells you his name a few nights later. He doesn't speak, not ever, but when you're crying around his thick fingers, he whispers it against your ear.

"'s Simon," he growls, and you know what he means by that. He wants you to say it while you bounce on his fingers, when you rut against his thigh. He wants you to say his name when you're coming undone riding his face, when you're wetting his mask with your pussy and making him choke on your cum. Such a wet, sweet girl you are, and sometimes he skips wash day for his mask so he can shove it into his mouth and pant around it and taste you while he fucks his own fist.

It's insanity, he thinks, as he's cleaning his rifle. The idea of traditional. But it's what befallen him, what he sees all around him, and he tucks his index finger into a hole too small to pinch himself just to make sure he isn't living a dream. You're in the kitchen, mending more clothes, something warm boiling on the stove. There were seeds in the greenhouse, and you're saving them to plant in the spring, so for now, you make do with canned goods and whatever Simon hunts for during the day. You found books in the attic, and you read them at night, head in Simon's lap as he plays with your hair or rubs your sore ankles or cuts your nails. You're the only one that ever speaks; he hasn't said a word to you except for telling you his name, and you're content to be the only one that uses their voice.

He always listens. You told him one time that you loved the shade of green that the trees wore, and he came back one day with a sweatshirt of the same color for you. He noticed you trying to mend those terrible boots, and he found a new pair for you, your size this time, barely worn and fit for winter. He brings lots of things for you; books, clothes, even rocks sometimes, when he just thinks he found one that you might like.

You do like them. You have started filling a small bowl with the ones he brings, and he notices you rifling through it sometimes, just looking at them, and it makes his chest swell with pride.

Like giving a treat to a dog. Like giving him a fucking bone.

He teaches you how to shoot. You know how to pull a trigger, but that’s the extent of your expertise. He teaches you how to stand, how to turn the safety on and off, how to hold the gun between two hands so not even his own can take it away from you. He makes sounds when you please him. Hums low, lets out a soft breath, sucks in the air through his teeth. You can’t see his face, but the way he looks at you when you fire a bullet and knock bottles off their ledges, it warms you, all the way down your spine, reaching your toes. You want him to keep looking at you this way, so you try hard, and he notices.

You’ll never be what he is, but the small victories are what have him chubbing up in his cargos and falling asleep between your thighs. You give, and he takes, and he keeps coming back for more.

He teaches you that distance is your strength. You aren’t like him; you aren’t built like a brick house, you won’t be bigger than a lot of your opponents. You need to keep them away from you, however you can. He makes you good with that gun because it’s your best chance, but in the even that you lose it or you run out of bullets, he shows you how to aim a hatchet so that the blade always lines up between someone’s shoulders.

The way you listen makes him salivate. The way you blink up at him and say yes, Simon and take his orders, it makes it difficult to keep away from you.

Today marks two months in the house tucked on the hill. Simon hunts, and you cook, and you live in some sick, twisted housewife fantasy at the end of the fucking world. Simon provides, and you keep, and when the box of condoms falls out of your backpack one day, you glance at Simon for just a moment before he's on you.

It's animal, that first time. He tackles you practically onto the carpet of the living room, and he props you up onto your elbows and only pulls down your jeans enough that he can fit his cock between your thighs. You hear the tear of the condom wrapping, and then he's laying over your back, sinking to the base, cock nestled inside of you as he grips your throat gently and fucks you into the carpet. Poor beast, he's definitely going to need his knees massaged after this, but you can't think about that much when you're taking the fattest cock of your entire life and trying to survive underneath him. It's that fine line between pleasure and pain that you're desperate for, and you pull threads out of the carpet as you try to hang on and take it like a good girl.

You can hear his voice. It's low, and subtle, but he grunts with each agonizing thrust, hips snapping against your ass as he fucks you back onto him over and over and over again.

It's primal. Nasty. You wish he wasn't wearing a condom, you want him to be in your skin, you want him to fill you until you're full, let it spill over, and then do it all over again. You want him to bite into your throat and tear, and you want him to eat you and then put you back together, and then do it again and again and again.

"So big," you gasp, and he falters at that. You recognize it, the need for praise, and you latch onto it with claws and stay there. I need him to stay here with me. "So good...so good t-to me, Simon–"

He groans. It's music.

Keep me. Keep me. Keep me.

"Simon, please–" You scratch at his arm, not satisfied until you feel blood. When you break the skin, he laughs, a breathless laugh that has your eyes rolling back in your head as he shoves your face into the carpet and mounts you like a fucking horse. The deep slap, slap, slap of skin is enough to send you away, send you home, your mind foggy as your pussy squeezes him for all he's worth. The slick of the condom is pleasant, but you want it raw. You want every part of him carved into you, and you arch your back, suck him in, whine and cry and beg for him to just, "please, Simon, I need it, I need it."

"Need wot?"

The sound of his voice is whiplash. He hisses when he sinks deep, staying there, holding you at a sharp angle so he can knead your ass and watch it bounce back on him. He sucks on his teeth, and there's drool slipping out of your mouth. That accent, his voice, like velvet, from deep within his chest. You want to hear more of it.

"Be a man," you gasp. "Be a man, and fuck me."

He doesn't see the desperate look on your face when he slips out of you. He doesn't see the relief that washes over you when you hear the condom come off, latex crumbling as he tosses it, but he feels the warmth of your pretty pussy when he sinks back in, skin to skin, and feels you clench for dear fucking life.

"Fuckin' Christ," Simon groans, and you reach back for him, gripping his arms, forcing him to fall over on top of you. He settles with his elbows on either side of your head, and you bow your back and grip the carpet again as he fucks into you nice and slow, deep, fat head leaking precum and making you cry because finally, yes, please, this is it, what I want, I'll have you forever.

You're so pretty. Even in his past life, Simon never got to have anything pretty. He was too ugly, too big, too awkward. Any woman of good faith stayed 100 yards away, as if his mere presence was a warning alarm, some invisible radius that kept them away from him. He always thought it was for the better. He always thought good riddance, they shouldn't have me, I shouldn't have anyone. Not when only days before, he had tortured a Russian militant until he had no teeth and hung his severed fingers on twine around his own neck.

But you won't run away. He's given you opportunity. He's left the cottage and staked out the outside just to watch you, and all he sees is you moving between windows, shaking out the dust from old blankets and washing the dishes. All he sees is you sewing his clothes and cooking his food, and when he comes back inside, all he sees is your smile and your face and your pretty mouth that falls open when he makes you come all over his hand.

Now it's the end of the world, and he lets a coin flip decide whether or not he lives or dies. And even when he flips it now, it never agrees. When he asks to die, the coin tells him no. When he asks to live, it’s always interrupted by you.

Yes, it tells him. Yes, yes, yes, because it's been keeping him here, because it knows, because it saw, because he couldn't see both sides of the coin, but he can see it now, plain as day, and she's underneath him now, letting him inside, and she's begging him to come and to fill her up, and she's crying because he's such a big man, and she wants him everywhere and always and all at once, and Simon is nothing if he isn't an insatiable bastard that can finally be fucking selfish.

The way you say his name could make him move mountains. That soft breath you take. The falter of your voice. The whine. The world has gone quiet, but he'll make a new one, and he will leave it at your feet for you to step on or pick up.

Whichever you choose. You can do no wrong.

When he comes, he moans. Into your ear, he lets you hear him, lets you bask in his pleasure as he spurts hot inside of you, hauling you a little higher on your knees so he can make sure you come, too. He gives you the palm of his hand to grind on, fucking into you at the same time, humming deep when he feels you squeeze around him and shatter like glass.

He takes his mask off for the first time that night. You see his face, all of it, not just glimpses when he lifts it to eat or to drink, you see the whole thing. He has a terrible looking face. Something only a mother could love. Too old of scars to be from this new life. They slash across his brow, across his cheeks. He has a jagged nose, and the skin around his lips had been reconstructed poorly from however they had been slit.

He's a terrifying piece of flesh. He is surprised when you lean in and kiss him. He's even more surprised when you kick off your jeans, turn over, and fuck him again.

The mantra that sounds like mine repeats in his head over and over. He feels it, deep, warm and beating under his ribs alongside his heart that hasn't moved in a long while.

He found you in those woods, kicking amongst predators, and he took you home with him. Picked you up like a stray, fed you, clothed you, and now you've stayed. For a moment, he thought it wasn't real. Thought your full belly is what kept you here, the warm house. He didn't mind pretending, but he figured it wouldn't last.

He doesn't think that anymore. Not with the way you kiss his severed face. You nuzzle into it, cup his cheeks, and he finds it agony when you pull away.

He hovers now. In whatever room you are in, Simon must also be in it. If he leaves, he makes you board the doors, and you are only allowed to open them if he knocks in his special way. He tested you once, came back earlier than expected, and he was so pleased you did not open the door to his casual knock and only the special one that he made you come one, two, three times with your thighs locked around his face.

A terrible thing happens.

Not to you.

You're searching the greenhouse. Hoping to find some flower pots for the herb seeds you found, you're rummaging through the cabinets beside it. Your gun is sitting away from you, and although Simon would chastise you for this, you feel safe here, and it doesn't bother you.

It flings itself at you. It cries, what used to be a teenage girl, reaching for you because it wants a chunk of your softness, of the life you pump into the muscles that keep you running. You're protected by all the clothes you wear for the weather, and it is slow because of the cold freezing their rigid, dead bones, but it does not lessen the hunger, the fight, the determination to eat and spread.

Before it can bite, the back of its head explodes. You close your mouth and shut your eyes as rancid brain matter splatters the white snow and you, and it is wrenched off of you immediately. Simon stands there, his pistol in hand, and you have never seen him quite so angry as he is right now.

His eyes are wild. He heaves under that tact vest, breathing hard, and his grip on the handgun shakes, so much that he has to shove it back into the holster at his thigh and lean over to pick you up off the ground.

He jostles you. Growls. Is nearly an animal himself as he shoves you up against the glass of the greenhouse and snarls.

"Wot the fuck is wrong with ya?!" Simon snaps. "Is y'r fuckin' head on?!"

It's so quiet in your head even as he yells. Your eyes tear, but not because you're upset. You reach out and cup his face gently, and he stops. Stops talking, just watches, just looks at you as he bends and leans his forehead against yours and squeezes you to his chest.

What is this thing you have? What have you become? What innate thing has festered between you? He’s gripping the edge of the glass so hard, you hear it crack under his hand. There is some kind of sick sense of devotion among you. Some kind of responsibility. He’s angry because something under his tongue tasted bitter when he saw you struggling. It won’t be this easy. He won’t make it this easy. If he doesn’t get to die, then neither do you, and he will make sure of that, because that is the only way this game can remain fair.

You never wander to the greenhouse again. He makes you promise (lest he wastes his cum between your thighs instead of inside you, that's it, promise me).

Another terrible thing happens.

Not to you.

They're wanderers. When they knock at the door, they don't use Simon's special knock, so you don't open it. Instead, you blow out the candles and hide, peeking at them from the fogged window in the attic.

They are men (you aren't surprised, they seem to be the only thing that survives nature's heavy hand). Cold. Shivering. One of them is bleeding, you can see it from the blood trail he leaves in the snow that seeps from somewhere under the hem of his jeans. The one uninjured tries to force his way through the door, but Simon added more deadbolts to it, and it doesn't give under his weak attempts. You trade your handgun for the rifle, aiming it at them. If they get through the door, maybe you can draw them back out, keep them away from the house.

You try to stay quiet, but the healthier one uses his body and a log of wood to get through. They're desperate, desperate enough to not care that breaking through the door cuts him severely, splits through his jacket. The second man limps behind him, getting inside, and you decide to put the rifle back.

You will stay quiet until Simon gets back. Your strength is not being a bulldozer, so you'll hide until he can be that for you. You steady your breathing; even if they make it to the attic, you won't go quietly. You tried that last time, and if it wasn't for Simon, you'd surely be naked and dead in that clearing that you were dragged to.

This time, if you go, you will take someone with you at least. Severed ears are not enough. You will not make them artists, you will make them forgettable and unrecognizable, and you will give back what they give you tenfold. Even if it kills you.

It takes them all night before they finally make it to the attic. They eat your food and take showers in your bathroom and stink up the living room, you can hear them. And when their bellies are full and their minds wander, you dread the pull of the attic door as he wrenches it open and the ladder falls.

You manage to kill one as he drags you out from the corner. He latches onto your ankle, and as he pulls, you put your finger on the trigger of your handgun, and you put one right between his eyes. The other takes advantage of your moment of pause, turning you over onto your stomach so hard the gun flies across the attic from your hand. He tosses you down from the attic, and you land on your side in the hallway, and you cry as you get to your elbows and crawl, trying to get to your feet, but he's larger than you.

He catches you in the kitchen. Slams you over the kitchen counter, using his weight to pin you down, but Simon taught you better than that. He taught you not to give in. He taught you not to give up. You think about him when your fingers find the discarded fork on the counter and you drive it right through his fucking eye.

You don't stop. You don't let his cries keep you from bringing your arm down again. And again. And again. You make his face your blank canvas, and you paint it with your anger. For every man that ever touched you. For every man that ever thought himself worthy to have you. For every man that tried to make your body his prize, you poke a thousand holes in him, and you scream with him as you do it until he can't scream anymore.

You're holding the fork and standing over him when Simon comes home. His handgun drawn, silent as he makes his way in, his body visibly relaxing when he sees you. He glances at the man at your feet, still alive, gurgling there, choking on his own blood as he tries to breathe through the holes that are scattered across his face and neck. You meet his eyes, and you smile. It's uncanny to do it now, but you are happy to see him.

"There's..." You sniffle, wiping your face with your sleeve. "There's another i-in the attic."

You don’t get to see him smile under the mask. You don’t hear the near purr that leaves him as he climbs the ladder and sees the perfect place you’ve left your mark. He’d frame it if it wouldn’t rot.

You twirl the fork in your hand before going to the sink, dropping it in there, and you close your eyes as you listen to Simon's footsteps as he goes into the attic. It takes him a little less than an hour to get the bodies out the back door, and when he comes back inside, you're already wiping up the floor in the kitchen.

There's nothing to talk about. This is normal. This is just another day. Tomorrow, you might have to do it again, and you'll still cook dinner after sunset and clean the kitchen like you're doing now and sit Simon on the edge of the bathtub and cut his hair.

Simon found chocolate on his trip today, and you make cake with it. You sit in his lap under the candlelight, and you feed each other, bite by bite, and you giggle when Simon gets it all over his lips.

You kiss him to clean it off, and then you reach for another bite of cake. There's some measure of satisfaction you feel when your tongue finds the dent in the fork prongs from when you used it earlier. The chocolate tastes better somehow. Sweeter.

You catch him in the morning, limbs tangled with yours under the sheets, flipping a coin. You smooth a hand over his thick chest, along his pudgy stomach, and you watch with him as the coin lands on the bedside table, falling flat.

It comes up tails.

He decides then that he doesn't have to flip it anymore. It's pointless. He asked for answers, and he got one.

You were not luck. You were fate. And because of it, the coin will always land the same way.

His thoughts are interrupted when you reach for the coin. You twirl it between your fingers, thinking. He doesn't see what you see, but that's okay. Maybe he'll let you play now. Some other game, a better one.

Heads or tails, win or lose, alive or dead. Either way, you are attached. Woven together, thread by thread. There are no vows to say in this new place, but you aren't tested by the same kinds of things. There is no law to keep two people together, no governing power of men that say if left is truly left and that right is really right.

You are drawn together by shared experiences. The same trauma. You won't leave each other not because you said you wouldn't leave, but because there is no one else in the world that has seen the same things you have seen and has done the same things you have done. There is no one else in the world that will forgive you for what you had to do to survive. That will love you not just in spite of it, but because of it, because you did what was necessary, and you are here now to learn a lesson and not suffer its consequences.

It's just a game. If you win, he wins. If you lose, he loses. If you're alive, he's alive.

And if you're dead, then he must be, too.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon

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buckymorelikefuckme · 4 months ago

Text

what a wicked thing to do

vampire wanda maximoff x fem reader

words: 4.2k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** lesbian vampires yes GAWD, fantasy au, inaccurate historical au, smut, fingering, implied soulmates (?? kinda i guess), biting 👀, mention of blood, does this count as hurt/comfort? we shall see!! and uhhh it's kinda spooky ooky vibes but it's not really dark? i think. pls let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: listen..... i've already got spooky season in the brain and i really wanted to reshare this fic. i've edited it a little but i've also left the link to where i orphaned it on ao3 in the title if you prefer reading there~ any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged pls and thank ♡ xoxo

wanda maximoff masterlist || main masterlist

It’s that time of year in between autumn and winter where it’s only getting colder and colder, no reprieve even during the sun’s highest point of the day. Part of you worries it’s a mistake to wander through the woods like this, especially so close to sunset.

But then you remember the briefest moment when you saw her, when your eyes met hers; it happened so quickly, but also felt as if time stopped. Something flashed in her gaze before she looked away and disappeared in the busy crowds of the village.

That moment, as brief as it was, leads you here. You hug your arms tighter to your torso, cursing the bitter wind whipping around you. Your dress had been a bright idea when you’d first thought of it. Now, you’re wondering why you thought such a plunging neckline would be smart, considering the seasonable chill in the air.

Although, you think with a flutter in your stomach, that’s not exactly true. You know exactly why you chose this dress.

There’s hardly any light left in the sky by now. You’re kicking yourself for getting lost in the woods, wondering if anyone would notice, or care, whether or not you return to the village. You have no family, no money, nothing tying you to anyone or anything. You work odd jobs to be able to make ends meet. The people knew of you, but you are sure they hardly concerned themselves with your well-being.

But then, when your gaze had met her own, you’d felt seen for the first time in ages. It was like she could see everything inside your mind, every ounce of longing and every bit of loneliness, even in the split second she held your stare. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since then. Nearly two weeks have passed, and you’d finally decided to find out if the stories that follow her hold any truth. They are quite colorful, full of fantasy and myth, surely decorated to sound more elaborate as the years go on. Fantasy and myth, perhaps, but one particular piece of information continues to remain the same.

She hasn’t seemed to age in the fifteen years she’s spent living near your village. Not one line or wrinkle to be seen on her pale skin. Not one gray hair on her head. Some of the elders even swear they'd seen her when they were children.

Her home is a mystery, one that stays that way out of fear. There is something about her eyes, some say, something off, not quite right. Because of this, no one has felt compelled enough to try finding her home.

At least, not until you.

You’re beginning to think you are truly lost, feeling hopeless, when you finally spot something in the distance. But just as relief washes through you, the rain starts. Each drop feels like sharp, stabbing pieces of ice landing on your exposed flesh, soaking into the thin fabric of your dress. It takes mere minutes for you to become drenched. Your dress is now clinging to your body uncomfortably, the cold even more biting than it already had been.

It comes into view, what you’d spotted several meters back, easier to make out. A looming castle breaks through the trees, windows lit with candles.

Your arms and feet are going numb, but you push through, stumbling your way to a cobblestone path that leads to tall, wooden doors. With a trembling hand, you raise the door knocker and bang it against the door as loud as you can manage, praying whoever is inside will hear.

Your wait is short lived, thankfully. The door creaks open loudly to reveal the very woman you’d been searching for. If she’s shocked to see you, she hides it well. She looks as regal as ever. A black dress hugs her lithe body, her hair perfectly brushed and styled. This close to her, you can see what the people mean. She looks ageless.

“E-excuse me, madam,” you begin, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. “I-I’m terribly lost and I d-don’t think I can find my w-way back to the village.”

The woman lets her eyes roam your shivering frame, lingering on your glistening chest for a second, then meets your pleading gaze.

“Of course. Please, do come in. I’m sure you’re cold.”

“Th-thank you,” you reply earnestly.

She steps aside, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by.

“Think nothing of it,” she assures you. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, at least until the storm passes.”

As the door closes behind her, you take in as much of the space as possible. With it being nighttime, the candles can only do so much. For a castle, it is rather large, but it’s not quite as foreboding as you would have imagined. Though, you surmise, you hadn’t really known what to expect at all.

“Would you like something dry to change into?”

You whirl around, almost tripping over your feet as her voice registers, so close to your ear.

She smiles, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Swallowing roughly, you nod, offering a smile of thanks in return.

“Very good. You should go sit by the fire to warm up while I get everything sorted.”

She points toward a room where you can see flickering light dancing off the walls. You nod again, letting your tired feet follow the promise of warmth. The closer you get to the large fireplace, the harder you shiver, goosebumps rising along your skin. You stand as close as you deem safe, hands held out to thaw them. For the second time, she sneaks up behind you.

“This is all I could manage to find.”

You gasp as you turn to face her. She’s still smiling as she holds up the proffered item of dry clothing.

“You frightened me,” you state dumbly, huffing a quiet laugh.

“I did not mean to,” she replies.

“It’s okay.” You glance at the clothes in her hand, a frown forming on your face. “A… dressing gown?”

She makes a sympathetic face. “It was all I could find,” she repeats.

Her eyes dip down to your chest again. They flash, just like in the village, but you’re sure it could have just been the fire reflecting in them. You look down to see what she’s staring at and heat rushes up your neck. Your nipples are clearly outlined against the wet fabric of your dress.

“Oh,” you murmur as you lift your arms to cover yourself.

She clears her throat delicately. “Take this. You’ll get sick if you keep your wet clothes on.” She pointedly holds the dressing gown out to you again until you gingerly take it. “I’ll go get the kettle started while you change.”

“Thank you,” you return quietly.

When you’re sure she’s gone, you undress as quickly as you can, more shivers wracking your frame as you stand naked in her drawing room for a few seconds before pulling on the silk dressing gown, tying it securely around your waist.

While you wait you decide to get a better look of the room. A few paintings hang on the dark walls, but mostly they’re covered with floor to ceiling shelves and stuffed to the brim with books. You take notice of a few spots where the dust hasn’t seemed to settle in front of them, figuring those must be her favorites. A plush chaise sits in the center of the room with two chairs on either side, atop an ornate rug that rests on most of the floor. There are a couple small tables between the chaise and chairs with candelabras on them, and a wide, lower table in front of them. You spot a desk by the only window in the room.

There’s nothing particularly personal about the space. It almost feels as if she’s newly moved in. But you know that can’t be true, especially since so many people in the village have seen her visit town for years now.

A piece of parchment on the desk catches your eye. You debate over whether or not you should let your curiosity get the better of you, your feet slowly carrying you over to where the paper lay. There’s writing on the top piece, and you get as far as the addressed “Brother,” but then hear her round the corner and quickly back away.

“I wasn’t sure if you took cream and sugar, so I brought them just in case,” she tells you, setting a silver tray on the low-lying table that held the teapot and teacups.

You walk over as she pours the tea into both cups. You pick one up and carefully drop two lumps of sugar into yours, stirring it with your teaspoon until you’re satisfied it’s melted. A careful sip as you sit down and you hum happily.

“Better?” she asks, smiling and taking a sip of her own tea, sitting beside you.

It occurs to you suddenly that you hadn’t asked for introductions. You scold yourself internally, knowing you had better etiquette than that.

“I must apologize, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I never introduced myself,” you say, then offer your name. “And what is yours, madam?”

“You may call me Wanda,” she replies.

“Well, I owe you a great deal for helping me, Wanda. I cannot thank you enough.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Please, there is no need. I’m glad I was here and that you aren’t in danger of freezing to death.”

“As am I,” you respond, laughing lightly.

Silence settles between you. Your mind whirls with hundreds of questions, but you don’t know where to begin. Your plan to find her only consisted of just that— finding her. Now that you’re here, you aren’t quite sure what to do. Or say, for that matter.

You can feel her eyes observing you like a caress. You struggle not to squirm or shiver, though you are no longer cold. No, there is no chill clinging to your bones anymore. Her stare alone provides enough heat. You chance a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, but she catches it. She purses her lips to keep from smiling in amusement.

“So,” you blurt, cheeks pinking, “have you lived here long?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as soon as the words leave your mouth. Stupid, stupid girl.

Thankfully, Wanda laughs.

“Quite,” she says teasingly, like she’s letting you in on a joke.

You nod. “I see. Is it a family home?”

She tilts her head consideringly. “Of a sort.”

What is that supposed to mean? Miraculously, you don’t ask that question aloud.

“Do you… Do you live alone?”

You’re not sure why you ask. Perhaps it’s that you haven’t heard any other movement throughout the castle that indicated a waiting staff of some sort. Afterall, she was the one to fetch the tea.

“I do,” she says.

You don’t want to examine it too closely, but you’re positive you note a hint of longing in her tone.

“S’a lot of space for one person,” you muse in acknowledgment.

She nods. “Indeed. However, I’m sure I’ll find the right companion soon.”

You take another sip of your tea to avoid replying, but are not able to avoid meeting her gaze. The look in her eyes is something you’ve never seen directed at you. You’re hesitant to think it could be want, open desire. Not from a woman like her.

—

Wanda still cannot believe that you’d shown up at her door.

She’s spent months watching you from a distance, never allowing herself to be seen by you—not until she felt it was time. From the very first moment she caught sight of you, she knew. You are hers. Her mouth watered when the wind brought your scent to her. There was not a doubt in her mind about whether she would have you; she simply would.

She had waited, ever so patiently, watching you as you roamed the streets of the village. You didn’t seem to have very many acquaintances, if any at all, and you were always alone. Wanda quickly figured out that you were without a family as well.

Selfishly, she’d been happy about these facts.

Finally, Wanda allowed herself to meet your gaze. It was quick, but she knew her eyes flashed, knew that she piqued your curiosity. It would only be a matter of time.

After nearly two weeks had gone by, however, she had started to think it hadn’t worked. She’d planned on returning to town to purposefully cross your path again, but as luck would have it, you came to her. As soon as she heard the knock on her door, she smiled.

Now, as she sits next to you on the chaise, your skin glowing in the firelight, she finds it harder to maintain her control. This close, your scent is even more intoxicating. Wanda can tell that you’re curious about her. The questions you want to ask are swirling behind your eyes. And now that you’re here, she decides she’ll answer whatever you ask, give you anything you want.

You’ve gone quiet, though, so she does some prodding of her own.

“What were you doing out in the woods?” Dressed like that, blessedly, goes unsaid.

You shyly glance down at your lap. “I, uh, I like to take walks,” you mutter into your teacup as you go to take another sip.

Wanda hums. A plausible excuse, indeed. You carefully lean forward to set your cup and saucer on the table and when you sit back you move your hair over to one shoulder. Wanda’s eyes zero in on the pulsepoint of your neck. If she focuses hard enough, she can see your heartbeat throbbing beneath your skin. It makes her teeth itch, makes her control waver even more.

When she drags her gaze away from your neck, she finds you already observing her. Her desire is clearly reflected in your eyes and the feeling is heady.

—

“Are you warm now?” she wonders.

“Yes,” you whisper, your breathing picking up, making your breasts heave alluringly.

You’d go as far as saying you are overheating. The dressing gown, where you’d been unsure and embarrassed of being nude underneath it before, is now a blessing. Your body feels alight with an unseen, growing fire. Shifting on the chaise, you don’t notice the sleeve slip down your shoulder, only registering the air skimming across your collarbones. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel something cold on your bare arm.

Peering down reveals it to be Wanda’s hand carefully sliding the sleeve back up into place. Your brows pull together in a frown.

“Your hand…” you mumble, trailing off.

She lets it linger on your shoulder for a moment, then slowly traces down your arm, her thumb grazing the side of your breast. Your nipples tighten, thighs clenching together as you watch her fingers stop at your wrist. Though her touch is cold, it feels like a relief against the searing heat of your flesh. You peek at her through your lashes and find her expression to be one of complete hunger.

Feeling emboldened, you hold her stare as you shift to pull the sleeve down again.

Her lips lift on one side, her teeth glinting dangerously. “Are you sure of what you’re doing?” she asks.

You blink, faux innocence shifting behind your eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Wanda takes a deep, steadying breath, though it only helps in inhaling your scent more. She says your name. “Why do you think you are here?” The question catches you off guard. Wanda shifts even closer to you, watching your throat bob as you swallow. “We both know it isn’t because you accidentally got lost in the woods. You were out there with a purpose. What was it?”

You lick your lips, noticing her gaze immediately drop to them. It makes your heart pound in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you reply, unsure.

She leans in, her nose nearly touching yours. “You do,” she whispers, without doubt. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes flutter closed, head tilting back without you being aware of it, exposing your neck. You feel her presence mere centimeters away from you, her breath puffing out along the column of your throat.

“I… I felt drawn here. It feels like I was meant to be here,” you say, quiet, almost hoping she doesn’t hear you.

It feels ridiculous to say it out loud. It’s one thing to have that thought sit in the back of your mind where you could pretend it didn’t exist, but to admit it aloud is entirely different.

“With me?”

You shiver at her words, her lips having softly dragged across your skin. Helplessly, you nod.

“Are you afraid?”

That makes you frown, but you adamantly reply, “No.”

“Open your eyes,” she pleads.

You follow her instruction, wary, but gasp at what you see. Sharp fangs peek out from Wanda’s lips, her eyes so pale they’re almost white now. Though your heart continues to race, it’s not out of fear. It should scare you, it should send you running, but you find your hand slowly rising to carefully trace a finger down one of her fangs, amazed that she even lets you.

“You’re…” You start, meeting her patient gaze once more. “Beautiful,” you finish in a whisper, because she is. You go to reach for her face to stroke her cheek, but she lurches backward. In a blink, Wanda’s on the other side of the chaise. Disbelief paints her features.

“You think I’m… beautiful?”

“Of course,” you state plainly, brows furrowing. Wanda continues staring at you in wonder. “You said I was here for a reason.” Ironically, she’s now wary of you as you shuffle closer to her. “I know what that reason is now.”

“Which is?” she asks apprehensively.

“You,” you murmur, cupping her cheek. “I’m here for you.”

Wanda looks as if she’s scared to accept this, to hope for it to be real. You steal away those worries by leaning in to place a soft kiss to her lips. She inhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut, her cold hands gripping your wrist almost painfully. You give her a moment, kissing her forehead as she gathers her emotions, keeping her gaze down.

“Are you sure?”

Her voice cracks softly, but her grip on your wrist loosens as you move it. You lift her chin so she’s looking at you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She stares at your lips for a few seconds, and then, as your words sink in, they seem to send her into action. She surges forward and captures your lips, more sure, more eager than before. You respond in kind, pulling her as close as possible, sighing into her mouth.

You quickly find yourself on your back on the chaise, Wanda above you, bodies slotting perfectly into each other like lost puzzle pieces. You feel her hand slide down from where it was in your hair to graze along your sternum. Then her hand cups your breast, thumb swiping across your nipple, and you gasp. It’s the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and Wanda takes it.

Her tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at her like she’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let her settle between your thighs, to arch into her touch and slide your tongue in her mouth, delicately tracing over her fangs. Wanda shudders, grunting inelegantly before wrenching herself away, panting heavily into the space between you. You blindly chase after her, opening your eyes in confusion.

Wanda’s gaze is intent on your neck, full of desire. The weight of the moment hits you, then. What exactly it would mean if you give in to her. So, with full faith in your decision, you tilt your head ever so slightly and she goes perfectly still.

“Go ahead,” you encourage.

She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

You huff. “I do. I want you to do this.” You know she won’t look at you just yet, so you lace both your and her fingers together and squeeze hers as you continue. “I need you to do this.”

“If I do,” she starts, swallowing thickly, “I won’t be able to stop. You’ll end up like me.”

You duck your head to catch her stare. “And what’s wrong with that?”

She closes her eyes and falls silent for a moment. The weight of your words fall over the two of you like a winter blanket.

“I’ve waited so long,” she confesses, voice quiet, shaking and timid.

“For me?” you ask. She nods. “I’ve been looking for something, or someone, to make me feel whole all my life.” You use your free hand to stroke her cheek. Even with her eyes closed, she leans into you. “I’ve waited for you, too.”

When she finally looks at you, you know there’s no going back for either of you.

“It’s going to hurt,” she warns.

“That’s okay. It will only be temporary.”

She smiles then, slow and teasing. “I can ease the pain, you know.”

Her free hand tugs lightly on the ties holding your dressing gown closed, raising her eyebrows in silent question. You bite your lip and nod, shivering in anticipation. She undoes the careful bow you’d tied, easing it open and exposing your body to her hungry gaze.

If you felt heated before, you’re an inferno now. Her hands reverently map out every curve of your body. She leans down and plants a kiss above your belly button. It makes your stomach clench in want, but you make yourself lie there and take whatever she plans on giving you. Her kisses lead up your torso, until she’s eye level with your breasts, and before you can comprehend her movement, she’s taking one of your nipples into her mouth.

“God,” you whimper, head thrown back as you push your chest into her face.

“No,” Wanda giggles, “just me.”

You try to laugh, but it turns into a gasping moan when she pinches your other nipple between cold fingers. Your thighs attempt to close around her, yet it’s futile. Her free hand begins its descent down to the warm heat between your legs. Your hips buck into her touch, crying out when her fingers make contact with your clit.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make this feel good, okay? Let me take care of you.”

You nod quickly, your mouth going dry. When a single finger enters you, you forget how to breathe for a second, but then she’s sliding it out and back in, setting a steady rhythm, and you’re back to panting and whining. Only a few minutes later, though, you’re wriggling around, begging for more. She adds another finger and picks up the pace.

“Oh,” you gasp, your legs falling open wider.

Wanda buries her face in your neck, inhaling loudly, groaning. She licks across the skin there, nipping at you.

“Wanda,” you whimper.

“I know, my love,” she rasps. “You’re so close.”

Your hands have drifted above you, clutching at the pillows on the chaise, your hips moving in tandem with her fingers. Her thumb meets your clit, adding to the building warmth in your belly. It swells and swells, until finally, it has nowhere else to go and explodes within you.

You feel her teeth sink into your neck at the very same moment, and you can only yell brokenly into the air. Pain and pleasure war inside you, both white hot and searing, marrying themselves into a delicious and lethal combination. You can feel blood trickle down your throat, the same way you can still feel her fingers thrusting into you. It seems to never end and you grow limp beneath her, unable to handle the sensations flowing through you.

She finally slows, removing her teeth and licking over the wound. As her fingers slide free, she brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead with her clean hand.

“Sleep now,” she instructs, kissing you softly.

You can’t even attempt to argue, your body listening to her and promptly sending you into a deep slumber.

—

When you wake, before you even open your eyes, you’re aware of a few things.

To start, you’re no longer on the chaise. You’re on a luxurious bed, which is presumably Wanda’s. Your hearing is significantly better, as is your sense of smell. There’s a low thrum of energy coursing through your veins, like you’re on edge but don’t know why. But the more important thing you’re aware of is the feeling of eyes on you.

“I know you’re awake now.”

You crack open one eye and see Wanda smirking at you from the other end of the bed. You smile and sigh happily.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

You carefully sit up and stretch. You notice her ogling your still naked body and give her a smirk of your own. Shifting onto your knees, you crawl over the bed until you reach her and straddle her lap.

“Hungry,” you answer before grasping her face in your hands and attaching your mouth to hers.

With a force she hadn’t used before, she tosses you backward and is on top of you in a flash, a devilish smile on her tragically beautiful face.

“Good.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #vampire wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff #posting this and running

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divinefeminine-card · 8 months ago

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Pick a card: Your life two years from now

Hello everyone, it has been a while isn't it? I thought what should be the topic of my second pac. Then this idea came to my mind, not original but anyways haha. Now, before we head on I need you all to know that growth is different for everyone. Okay? And to be very honest, it is also as much fine if you feel you haven't grown at all, because I promise you have, it is inevitable. We are always growing.

To pick a pile now, choose whatever image attracts you first. Its fine if more than one image attracts you guys. And if nothing really calls you then this pac might not be for you, have a good day, lots of love and light to you :D

Piles:

1-2

3-4

5-6

Readings 🍒

Pile 1

Hello my Pile 1, what I am seeing is you guys, two years from now, would have gotten really experienced in certain areas of life. Like, you know the shit, alright? Combat, you are ready for combat. You are aware and awake. Ready to tackle any obstacle or whatsoever. The next two years are definitely very much significant for you guys in terms of emotional maturity. You guys will definitely learn to listen to your intuition. Let me tell you, it's NOT easy to listen to your intuition and not confuse it with other things but I am seeing you guys will be very much certain in this as well.

Uh-ha! Pile 1, you will definitely be doing some kind of work, job or creating something solid/stable by yourselves. Mark my words. You all will be so skilled omg I am so happy for you!!!! You all will be so meticulous in your craft, so expert! It's awesome!! I am getting the mature-independent vibes!!! It might be something you always had a talent of 👀

Going to get-togethers, parties, having your own standing. You know, you might frequent different parties, get-togethers, meetings. I am definitely seeing you all really standing your ground and own no matter what!! Just being confident in oneself.

Two years from now, you guys would have worked through many of your fears, mostly societal fear I believe. You will be your unapologetic self, love 🥺

If by any chance you are worried about your loved ones safety and security, fret not, they will be safe and secure :)))

I love you guys so much, hope you liked the reading.

Pile 2

Hello my Pile 2, Damn guys, majority of your cards are of Major Arcana!!

Two years from now, I am seeing you guys being more outspoken than ever before. Like, just saying whatever comes to your mind. It's kinda cute to be very honest (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

This is a very recurring typa theme in this pile, you guys will be your most balanced and in tune with yourself version of yours ever!!! I am seeing you and your lives to be very much at peace. Nothing too high, nothing too low. Things are going on calmly and peacefully. You will be connected to both your masculine and feminine side in perfect harmony. So happy. Your life and you, yourself will be so full of happiness and optimism, it would be contagious to the people around you. You will be blooming!!

You guys will be just and good. You will not be the type to be swayed by fake greed and flash. Protecting your peaceful life I am seeing. You will be the type to do your work quietly and retire to your chambers as soon as possible. Your coworkers will be very cooperative as well. You will be supported and looked after.

I see child-like happiness within you guys. You will be blessed and happy. You know that song Colorful World by Kathryn Ostenburg, that's what I am reminded of while doing this reading. I will link it here.

Lots of love and emotional time here. This can be a healing period for you. It might be a bit uncomfortable but trust it's gonna be so so good.

Pile 3

Hello my Pile 3!

Getting on with your reading, I am definitely seeing lots of competition, determination, using your resources, trying to be as quick as possible, preservation of wealth and defence of your own self.

Okay, so two years from now, your life will be quite in a moving state, like things are actively in motion. Situations and things are still building up. Resources are scattered so preservation is also very important. I am sensing that the environment you will be in two years from now will be quite competitive, and very very very opportunistic, selfish as well I think. Everyone wants to be at the top, but not everyone can be at the top here, so the brutal competition is.

Even though you will have secured your own position but I am still seeing the stance of defense and alertness here, ready to strike if anyone dares touch what yours truthfully, rightfully. Despite all of the harsh surroundings though, you still will be down-to-earth and humble at heart ❤️ Love that for you my pile 3. You are self-sufficient and happy in yourself.

Whenever you would feel seriously down, you would look at all the abundance you have, and be like "Oh, I have this, no need to be sad 💅🏻 🤓" haha, it's specific but boy do I feel it will be so true.

At times, the period might seem very bleak but always remember to hold your vision high my lovely pile 3, you all have got this okay?? No matter what, you all have got this! The answers you have been yearning for long will be given to you. Just hold on to the hope. Take these trials as the test of your commitment! You got this my pile 3! I love you 💖

Pile 4

Hello my Pile 4!! I am seeing a very fulfilled and happy life for you guys. Like, when I say fulfilled I mean, you would have the money, the wisdom and the love (both giving and receiving).

You would feel complete in ALL areas of life, my pile 4 I swear. You would not be afraid of being vulnerable either. Instead, I feel it will be something which will give you great strength in tough times. You would feel the success you have achieved after a period of growth. You will feel happy, pile 4, truly happy. You will be juggling different aspects of your life, most likely professional life and family life. It would be a difficult task but, oh aren't you a damn skilled juggler my pile 4?? Things will go up and down but you will skillfully balance them out.

You will definitely be fiercely protective of everything you have cultivated over the years, if something serious were to happen you wouldn't take a second to take the matter in legal hands. You are so cool for that! Never shy away. I am also seeing you might be in the position of leadership, leading people with wisdom and guidance.

Now, seeing the abundance of everything, some snakes might be growing themselves in your yard without your knowledge, in simpler words, someone close to you might not want your best and will try to sabotage you in some way. Look out for them.

Don't try to take too much in your control. If you are feeling so let it be, and if necessary so, let it go, let them go. Don't let pride get in your way. It's fine to sometimes just lower your guard down and be one with everyone. You and your loved ones are safe and sound, waiting for you to return home. Come soon ❤️.

Pile 5

Hello my Pile 5! So, I think it will be, what you can call a very balanced life. You know the ups and downs of life, going on and on and on in cycles.

I think two years from now, you guys will be in your healing era. Healing from the past wounds and preparing for the brighter future. Really proud of you guys. You know, healing is a process, a long one and sometimes a tedious one. So, these past wounds, rewiring your minds might keep you awake at night, thinking what you should or shouldn't have done, even if it seems like I promise it's not the end of the world. After this you all will be in a deep resting healing time. Like, genuine rest, not laying down and having all the lifetime crisis in a single moment.

When this all hard work starts showing their fruits, you will feel it, so my pile 5, two years from now, you guys will be embracing your femininity to its fullest finally, after needing to have kept it hidden. You will let yourself feel the emotions coming through you, to you. You will be secure and stable. You are like a young sprout 🌱, no matter your age, with a lot of potential to grow, and you will, watch my words. Two years from now, you will be comfortable in yourselves. Not taking shit from anybody finally.

You will start planting seeds for your better future. Carefully mending it. Looking forward to it.

I would also like to tell you, I feel you guys will get into a loving relationship or form a deep friendship with someone ;) whichever it will be, it will be healthy with boundaries, okay guys?? Healing is ultimately what you do, but you can never deny the environmental factors. This bond will definitely have a significant impact on you.

Have faith, look at the bigger picture and have fun. That's it! Bye pile 5!

Pile 6

Hello my Pile 6! The energy is quite dynamic must I say. It's all about taking back the control you were stripped off of or never had thought deserved in the first place.

The environment you will be in would be veryyyy competitive. It's like, even when you guys are doing the cheers 🥂 it will be a competition of who can do so the highest. There will be meaningful friendships but still competitive, no sabotaging though. There will be constant support from around.

The times will be quite chaotic. You never know when the rug would be pulled from beneath your feet. Unexpected things happen, one after another, no break or whatsoever. It will be like you are at the top of the world one second and the other at the bottom. Even though expected, it will always bring disturbance to you and your life. Things will seem like they are breaking down one after another. BUT WAIT!

You guys will be fighting (quite literally, academically, legally, physically, mentally (hopefully safely, don't worry)). Like, taking back what was meant to be yours. Working and practicing real hard, like REAL. And you will NOT be quiet about your strength my pile 6 😂 you will be like "I was gonna win. Told you so." It's fun. Anyways.

You will be so experienced during and after all this turmoil. You will finally gain the very much needed stability after all this time. You will reason with your head. Become a mature version of you, the version of desired. It's awesome!!

You pile 6, are definitely one sneaky fella :D you definitely know your way around your field and will get what you desire by hook or crook, good on you haha. You are the type to not attack from the front but rather from the side, neither are wrong though as long as you know you are doing well ;)

So guysss, the reading ends here. This is my second pac. Let me know how you like it, if you please. Any criticism or praise? Bring them on.

Hope you enjoy reading this pac as much as I enjoyed writing it! If anything, just more!

#free tarot reading #pac reading #free readings #tarot reading #oracle reading #divination #pick a pile #astrology #pac tarot #pick an image #Spotify

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vaaaaaiolet · 1 month ago

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Sleep-deprived Leon's upstairs neighbor works late 'cause she's a singer on a deadline, and he's having none of it. He comes up with a wild solution to the problem in a moment of desperation, and he's surprised when you actually go along with it, but anything to get a full night's sleep, right? Then he finds himself wanting a bit more than camaraderie with you in the process.

f/m, romance, fluff, does this count as crack??? popstar reader w/ a twist, ID leon is USELESS w tech + lives under a ROCK, also you manic pixie dream girl a bit too close to the sun but it's ok bc ur cute LOL

word count: 2.6k // read this chapter on ao3

a/n: req fic + belated bday gift for my lovely 🍍 anon!! as usual i got carried away and butchered it. um. NOTHING makes sense just go w the vibes i beg you </3 pt. 2 coming out asap bc this fic will not leave me alone in the best way :)

chapter one

Rule of thumb: don’t bang on the first date.

Leon’s wrapping his pillow around his head like a pair of goddamn Beefs (or is Beets? those tacky, overpriced- oh, forget it) while his upstairs neighbor gives her bed a run for its money on a Friday night, at a blessed 9 PM no less.

Oh yeah. Her.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

R-rated suspicions aside, Leon tries hoping for the best. His new neighbor might just be an interior designer of the nocturnal sort. Sick of his previous rowdy, college kid-infested apartment building, he’d moved into this complex not too long ago thanks to a very politely-worded call to Hunnigan about open listings in quiet, senior citizen-friendly neighborhoods. Call him old, call him boring, but after a long day of running around saving humanity from the newest bioweapon to hit the market, all Leon ever wants to do these days is get a few winks of sleep. He’s pushing 30. Insomnia’s no fountain of youth, people.

Thump, thump-thump-thump.

New Girl upstairs seemed to have the same idea but with far more nefarious intent. She’d moved in at the same time as him, he’s sure – Leon saw a flash of her face a few days ago when she was lugging boxes of stuff into the elevator up to her floor. She’s the only sign of life from the 21st century he’s encountered since the day he came to sign his lease papers. Why?

Because Hunnigan had fulfilled his request to a T. Leon’s new apartment building is long-term care home adjacent.

Full of grandmas and grandpas who got about as loud as their record players, only leaving their homes to fetch the mail – telegrams by the wrinkles on some of them. It was perfect. Leon was positively thrilled when Eunice from Unit 202 very, very slowly, waved hello to him on his moving day.

THUMP-THUMP! THUMP-THUMP!

And then she happened.

Maybe he’s just a grumpy old man right where he belongs, in all his 29-and-a-half glory. But the pounding that girl is giving her bed with some frat boy right now is giving Leon the college dorm experience all over again. It takes him half an hour of tossing and turning in his sheets to throw on an old jacket, beeline to the elevator, punch the neon 3 button, and darken New Girl’s doorstep.

His turn now. A quick knock, knock is enough for Unit 304’s door to open a crack.

“Hey, I’m from downst- oh my God, are you decent?”

And you, standing at the door in a dress that’s more sheer than his disbelief, only tilt your head to go, “Huh?”

“Listen, I know tomorrow’s the weekend but I- shit,” his face burns, “could you keep it down, please? You guys are really loud and it’s late.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You- you and whoever you’re with, could you not do this right now?” Leon croaks.

Your hands flail wildly in dismissal. “Oh no, that was just me jumping on my bed! Helps with my creative process,” you say, smiling weakly. “I didn’t know the floors were that thin, I’m sorry.”

Bullshit. “They are.” Leon grimaces, “And um, it’s fine if you guys are loud, just save it for when everyone’s asleep next time.”

A frown interrupts your smile. “I just said it was me. There’s no one else here, seriously.”

“So what’s with the getup?”

“The-” your eyes drift down to the near see-through of your dress and Leon gestures vaguely, as if you need more explanation to why he’s avoiding eye contact with your chest. “Oh, this?”

He nods.

“Creative process!” you chirp brightly.

“For what, pray tell?”

Curiously, that puts the wind out of your sails. Suddenly you having trouble meeting Leon’s eyes, lashes fluttering as you look up, down, anywhere that’s not his face.

“For school,” you finally make out, fingers wrapping around the edge of your door. “I’m a music major.”

Pianos and prancing on beds don’t exactly mix. He can’t help but squint at you. “And the jumping helps with…?”

“Getting past writer’s block!”

Back to bubbly with the ball in your court, you go so far as to open your door a little further to explain. Leon’s cheeks blaze as he tries his damndest to keep his eyes from drifting south.

“I read online that moving around helps with ideas, and I’m supposed to have a whole album written by the end of the week. I probably shouldn’t have procrastinated…” you trail off with a half-hearted chuckle, “so now I’m throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks, y’know?”

He hums. “You wanna be a singer?”

“Mhm!” Your updone hair bobs with you, reminding him a little of a bobblehead. It’s almost cute enough to make his AMs worthwhile.

“Then you better start singing somewhere else, sweetheart. The walls are just as thin as the floors.”

And Leon immediately turns his ass around to go back to sleep.

In hindsight, it might’ve been a little mean of him to leave like that. But his bed is just so heavenly, and with the sleep deprivation he’s been racking up lately, Leon’s half sure he just dreamed that entire exchange. There’s no way a girl like you in college – in her 20s, give or take – is seriously jumping on her bed on a Friday night for a homework assignment. That too in a dress fit for the club to add to the irony. Are all creatives this weird?

He pinches the bridge of his nose as the elevator descends, pushing aside his last glimpse of the glum expression he left you with in your doorway. So much for first impressions. But hey, you didn’t really make a great one either. He’ll call it even. Maybe get you a gift basket for chivalry’s sake.

He considers all this as he slips back under his blankets, finally, at 9:45 PM.

And then he hears a creeeaaak.

“Please,” Leon groans, jamming his pillow over his ears.

Thump…thump?

Nix the gift basket.

6:00 AM on Saturday finds Leon with his eyes wide open and glazed insomniac red.

His alarm blares as if to say, you actually thought you’d need to get woken up, didn’t you?

It’s a little patronizing. He teaches it a lesson by throwing it off his nightstand.

Sometime between 11 and 12 at night, you’d gotten bored of your bed and taken to something with wheels. An office chair is Leon’s best guess. You’d rolled across your floor all night, and the resulting clatter of plastic grating on hardwood had kept him awake until the sunrise. Hangovers were more pleasant than the night of sleep (or lack thereof) he’d just gotten, and Leon’s no wimp. He’s a man, goddamnit. A decorated government agent!

So he handles the problem at its source. Whips out his flip phone like a man, and makes a very important call.

A disgruntled female voice crackles through at the first ring. “May I remind you that this line’s only for emergencies, Leon?”

“It is! I need you to find me another apartment, Hunnigan, please,” Leon sits up, rubbing his eyes to plead his case to an unimpressed Ingrid Hunnigan. “My upstairs neighbor won’t let me sleep. The floors are thin as hell and she’s been moving around all night. It’s even worse than my last place.”

“Really? An old lady is giving you that hard of a time?”

“She’s college age — a singer — and when she starts singing for her homework all the time, I’m really not going to get any sleep. I’m begging you, Hunnigan. Get me out of here.”

“Strange.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Truly,” Hunnigan deadpans. “You know how hard of a time I had getting you into an apartment building only for people over 55, Leon?”

He winces, holding the phone a little further from his ears just in case.

“How many favors I had to cash in, strings I had to pull, all because you’re hopeless at navigating an apartment listing site, let alone anything on the Internet? Do you realize I had to do that in my personal time because your request would fall under illegal use of federal intelligence resources?”

Leon falters. “I didn’t-”

“So here’s what you’re going to do,” Hunnigan says shortly. “You are going right back to your neighbor and working out a solution like an adult.”

“But I already-”

“You’re solving this on your own, Leon. Figure something out because I know you can delegate. Got it?”

He really doesn’t. He’s only good at that outside of the US.

“Is that clear, Agent Kennedy?” Hunnigan repeats for semantic measure.

“Crystal,” Leon mopes, sapped of all hope when she ends the call with a ‘good luck’, just like back in Spain. A familiar routine.

He’s back in front of Unit 304 by 9:00 AM.

You open your door with a half-chewed yawn, wrapped in a robe and looking deceptively angelic, that is, if it weren’t for the immediate pinch your pretty brows take on when you grace him with a decidedly sour look.

“Up already?” Leon tries.

This time all he gets in response is a quick nod, a mouth parted in distaste.

Forward march, Kennedy.

“You were up past midnight. I heard you, y’know, on your chair. Kinda loud.”

“I’m not annoying you on purpose,” you sigh, tucking your arms into a tight cross over the fluff of your robe. “I just really have to turn my album in on time and I’m having crazy writer’s block. They told me the people here are quiet and easygoing. I haven’t had a single noise complaint so far except for you, did you know that?”

“That’s because everyone in this building either has hearing aids or doesn’t realize they need them yet,” Leon grits. “I don’t even know how you got in here, to be honest.”

“A sparkling letter of recommendation, thank you very much. And you?” You push up on your toes indignantly. “Are you just older than you look? ‘Cause you might need a pair of hearing aids yourself.”

Leon bites back a scoff. “Don’t need ‘em. I can hear you plain as day from below.”

Sirens are starting to blare in his head and it’s like he can feel Hunnigan glaring at him from her HQ in the sky. Aborting mission again isn’t an option. If Leon doesn’t fix things now, he’d be starting bad blood that might outlast the combined remaining lifespans of the building’s tenants. His salary could cover rent that long; his ego, not so much.

You’re about two seconds away from shutting your door in Leon’s face before he interrupts with a save pulled straight from his ass: “I’ll help you write your songs.”

So instead, you squawk, “What?”

He sticks the toe of his shoe in your doorjamb for insurance. Blurts, “I mean it. I’ll help you come up with ideas.”

“How on Earth would you do that?”

Great question. No better time than the present for the both of you to find out.

“You said moving around helps?” Leon repeats for you to confirm with a quizzical nod, “I’ll take you anywhere you want. Anywhere in the city, you name it, I’ve got a motorcycle I’ll get you there on. It’ll be a change of scenery. Just whatever you do, enough with the gymnastics at midnight.”

It’s a desperate lifeline, a creepy one now that he’s had more than two seconds to think about it, but a lifeline nonetheless.

And to his horror, all you do is stare.

The resulting silence feels like crystallizing amber. A clock ticks agonizingly from somewhere in your living room. Tick, tick, shit, he desponds. But thankfully, your laugh bubbles out not a moment too soon, sending a tsunami of relief down his shoulders.

“Gymnastics, really?” you snort, covering your mouth with a well-manicured hand.

“I’m serious.” Leon shoots for a winning smile. “But I have to ask, is working late also part of your creative process?”

Your eyes crinkle maybe, but you shake your head no.

“Then we’ll go whenever you’re free. Show you a few of my favorite spots, see if it speeds up your songwriting. Sound okay, sweetheart?”

“How about now?” you pipe up.

Leon coughs his splutter into something more dignified.

“You said whenever I was free! It’s a Saturday, you’re free,” you point a finger at his chest, “I’m free,” turn it back on yourself, “and I need to finish writing my album by, like, yesterday. This is perfect!” With a miniscule squeal, you disappear back into your apartment.

Leon’s left standing in your entryway wondering when his lifeline became a dynamite detonation cord.

“You haven’t even asked me my name,” he calls out to deaf ears. Cups his hands for effect because he can hear you flinging hangers onto the floor. “Don’t they teach you about stranger danger at school?”

“I’ll find out eventually!” floats back your worrying response.

You’re an efficient dresser, Leon gives you that. A thankfully normal one too at the dress and heels you rush back up to the door with. A large pair of cat-eye sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose makes Leon do a double take at the cloudy sky outside, but then again, maybe it’s another part of your creative process. Beyond his pay grade.

You adjust your sunnies with gusto, grin up at him when he gives you a curious look.

“Well, go on,” you say, pulling out your phone.

Leon blinks at the glowing rectangle.

“Number, name?” You tilt it as if you’re trying to entice a toddler. “I can’t just keep calling you Mr. Noise Complaint.”

“Aw, you’ve been telling your friends about me?” Leon chuckles at last, pulling out his flip phone and handing it to you.

And suddenly it’s your turn to stare at a piece of foreign technology.

You take your sweet time putting in your number. It’s very entertaining, the way the tip of your tongue sticks out the tiniest bit when you make a mistake and the sound of furious keypad backspacing follows right after. Leon’s no better, setting himself on your phone as “LOEN KEENAYD”, and with his pride bordering on hubris, he has no choice but to keep it that way.

“Really small backspace key,” he fibs when you peer at the gibberish in your contacts.

Your lip bite makes for a piss-poor job of hiding how funny it is.

“It’s Leon, by the way. Leon Kennedy. Apartment 204.”

You fix his name in half the time it took him to put it in. He holds his hand out for a shake, timeless enough, and you give it three businesslike pumps.

“I have to grab a spare helmet from my place, I’ll meet you down at the garage,” Leon promises.

You point at him before stepping into the elevator. “Either your idea works or I’ll have to work past midnight to get this album done and then you’ll really owe me, Leon.”

In another life, you could’ve been a CEO. You’ve certainly got the pointer finger for it.

Leon tips his chin in acknowledgment. “Whatever it takes to get back into your good graces, ma’am,” he grins.

That gets a cackle out of you as the elevator doors slide shut.

And he takes the stairs this time, waves good morning to Eunice in 215 on his way to pick up that helmet for you. It must be a good day, Leon thinks, sounding out your name in his phone’s contacts. Eunice even has a post- Great Depression era vinyl playing on her record player. Maybe it’s a sign to not be so glum about his situation. He’s finally fixing it, isn’t he?

So be it. A guy can dream. In Leon’s case, he’s hoping he gets eight hours by Monday.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

divider by @/saradika-graphics <3

#📮 delivery #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil #infinite darkness leon kennedy #id leon #bed chem sabrina carpenter #vaaaaaiolet #ao3 fanfic

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sonotpattismith · 2 months ago

Note

YOURE WRITING IS LIT AMAZING OMG- I had an idea: Sukuna switching in and telling u yuji likes you (romanticly and sexually) and eventually switching back and the aftermath…. 🙏🙏🙏

forgive me for whatever i do. (yuji itadori x reader)

word count: 4.9k warnings: a teeny bit dark, angst, suggestive content, 18+ a/n: y'all, I think I kind of altered what the original vibe was meant to be for this request, but I am apparently physically incapable of not making a fic angsty, I'm SORRY. Also, this was a bit inspired by Remember You by Dominurmom, link if you wanna listen cause it makes me cry. I hope you all enjoy and please remember my requests are always open! 🥹🫶��

Friends. It was a good word— a safe word. It was one you had found solace in hiding behind for years. How could you dare risk the beautiful ebb and flow you had found within the days of while you’d experienced with your best friend? No matter the pools of warmth that engulfed your chest with each glittery-eyed smile-- no matter how the both of you had always found your way back to each other whether rain or sunshine-- no matter how much you loved Yuji Itadori. Friends; it was a safe space.

There was a time when you wanted something more. It was so early on, before you were too scared to lose him yet. When you two had first met, you felt undeniably pulled toward the bright-eyed and charismatic boy. Both of your lives had been overwhelmingly and newly hectic, what with your being thrust into a life of curses and sacrifice. Similarly, Yuji was still coping with the abrupt weight of managing the demon he now shared a body with. It was never the right time.

So, your timid glances and blushing compliments soon turned into confiding conversations and fierce loyalty. You two fell into the gentle and safe rhythm of a blossoming friendship. Of course, deep down within the confines of your cowardly hearts, you were always drawn to one another. There was always a hope, never communicated, that maybe once your lives found a peaceful medium, you two would no longer need to hide behind the solace of friends.

This certainly wasn’t how you wanted it to happen.

Yuji had always made it appoint to keep you and Sukuna at opposite ends of his world, in all senses of the phrase. He barely spoke of him to you at all, in fact. It was actually something you argued often with him about, worried about the impacts of keeping that kind of burden locked away would have on him. In typical Itadori fashion though, he wouldn’t even entertain the notion of an argument with you. No, he’d just squint his honey-brown eyes, and flash that bashful smile to you, a half-assed excuse about why it wasn’t that big of a deal falling easily from his lips.

The truth was though, it was a big deal to him-- a massive one, in fact. After having already witnessed what that counterpart of his could do, the havok it could ensue on those important to him-- nothing scared him more than the prospect of you coming face to face with Sukuna. Yuji felt this fear so much so that he spared you the details. He didn’t want you to think of him in such a way, to know that any part of him was capable of such atrocities. Yes, he’d bear it all if it meant none of it touched you.

So, when he felt his own body deteriorating rapidly in tandem with the whaling blows of cursed energy courtesy of the special grade the two of you had been cornered by, the thought flickered in the back of his head. Heaving out a pained groan, Yuji’s gaze found yours, and he pushed it back down. But you screamed. You screamed, and he couldn’t help you-- he couldn’t move. You screamed, and he was trapped beneath the concrete pillar that had fallen so unceremoniously over his heaving chest. You screamed, and suddenly, it was his only option.

“Sukuna!”

The King of Curses was not one for favors, especially not for the brat that held him hostage in what was meant to be his vessel. He assessed the situation before him-- the one he’d been watching intently from the safety of his own shrine. Through his insolent vessel’s eyes, he could only see you. It was all the brat would look at, you were all he ever looked at. Whether it be the back of your head, hair swaying gently as you’d turn to smile at him, and Sukuna would always feel the boy’s heart clench fouly at the sight. On some occasions, you’d be looking right at him, your eyes with stars behind them, and the demon wanted nothing more than to rip them right from their sockets simply for the way his vessel would tremble under your gaze.

Pathetic.

Maybe if the brat had been looking toward something else for once, they wouldn’t have been in this predicament. But he was racing toward you at every chance he got, taking blows that were meant for you, countering attacks that you had antagonized. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so weak.

So, he laughed. In the back of Itadori’s frenzied mind, Sukuna cackled at him. The boy whispered a plea, tears stinging his eyes as he watched you stumble to your feet in a grave attempt to escape the repeated blows being landed on you.

“Anything, I’ll do anything, please!”

The demon liked the sound of that. Yuji could feel the control slipping away from him, his consciousness being sucked up by the all consuming darkness lurking within. For just a moment, he fought against it, staring up at you in an almost drunken haze.

“I’m sorry. Please,” He called out to you, voice hoarse and morphing into one you didn’t recognize. “Just look away.”

In mere seconds, the boy you loved was shifting before your eyes. His features were sharpening; sinister, black marks pooling onto his skin like ink. The second set of eyes below his own snapped open, and they were looking right at you. Maybe, Sukuna thought, if he saw it for himself he’d understand, without the barrier of this boy’s soul in the way. Still, as he stared into your fearful eyes, he felt nothing but indifference-- no-- disgust.

Jagged chunks of concrete rubble sliced through the air around you, knocking into your already weak body, some even slicing through the special grade in front of you. Blinking back the dust that invaded your sight, when your eyes opened again, the curse was desecrated; an explosion of grotesque, purple evidence of what it once was.

Sukuna didn’t care to save you. What enticed him more for the approximate two minutes he had left in control of this body, was breaking down the brat a little. In all fairness, when you stood there so helplessly, so vulnerable with eyes full of fear before him, how could he resist? His impossibly sharp teeth flashed under the moon’s light as he stepped toward you, torn shirt hanging loosely off his shoulder and chest.

You wanted to apologize to Yuji, to tell him that you tried to look away like he’d asked. It wasn’t a fair request though. No, not when your best friend, the boy you loved, was being held hostage. You feared if you looked away he might do something awful to him-- unaware of what lurked in the dark chasm of his thusfar imprisoned mind.

“I’ve gotta say,” Sukuna’s gravelly voice reached your ears. It didn’t hold that playfully boyish cadence you had come to love. In its place was one that mocked you, laughing boisterously in the face of your trembling fear and anticipation of what he’d do next. “In the flesh, you’re pretty underwhelming.”

You gulped down the bile that threatened to rise from your stomach. Still crumpled on the ground from the last hit you’d taken, you weren’t sure if you should attempt to stand; unsure if he’d find that acceptable. Sukuna tilted his head at your silence, taking two slow and calculated steps forward.

“Disgusting.” He spat suddenly, gripping you by your elbow to haul you up. You yelped in surprise, trying not to shed the tears that welled in your eyes at the sting of his nails against your skin. “This brat spends day in and day out allowing himself to be consumed. And for this?”

Your brows furrowed at his words, and you pulled against his grip.

“Give him back.” You gritted through your teeth, fear igniting your body in tremors.

Sukuna’s red eyes, all four of them, lit up sinsiterly, grin widening in a manner that appeared painful. You realized for that split second that he likely didn’t have much time at all to wreak havoc, and he was enjoying this. He wanted to hurt you-- to hurt Yuji, even with the limited scope of his abilities at the moment.

“How romantic.” He cooed mockingly. His hand came up to grasp your jaw, forcing you to look into the eyes of your best friend, but he wasn’t there. Your stray tear betrayed you, slipping down your mangled cheek. Leaning forward with gusto, he licked a debauched stripe up the path your traitorous tear had taken, cackling madly as the salt tainted his tongue. Pushing you back a bit, his voice was suddenly booming, cracking at your abused eardrums with fervor. “All day!”

You tried to keep your face neutral, to be unwilling to give up the shred of dignity you had left-- for Yuji.

“All day this brat pines and trembles and burns with the thought of you-- pathetic!”

For a moment, you felt your heart stop at his words. Surely he wasn’t implying that Yuji, even in the slightest sense, saw past more than just your friendship. You knew you shouldn’t. It wasn’t him, but your lips were moving to a different rhythm than your mind was, and you were whispering to him in hushed bewilderment,

“What?”

“And you’re so stupidly oblivious, too? How revolting.” Despite his disgusted words, the baleful smile on his face grew that much wilder. It struck you then, how much you had disconnected yourself from the fact that the body before you, holding your body weight up with a deafening grip on your jaw, was Yuji. You didn’t see him. When you looked at that pink hair and felt the familiar curves of his hands, he wasn’t your best friend. “I suppose you’re not the only ignorant one. I can practically feel the way your weak little heart pounds everytime that brat looks at you.”

Your cheeks were burning at this point, and if he couldn’t see it in the dim moonlight, he could surely feel the heat under his mean fingers. Blinking away your tears, you willed your lip to stop trembling.

“He doesn’t know it, you know.” Sukuna chuckled, spurred on by your painful silence. “I spend all day having to listen to him whine about his unreciprocated, little love-sick infatuation.”

It was making your stomach churn, the way he was turning your feelings for one another, ones that you were only now becoming privy to, into something so revolting. The words falling from his lips were ones you prayed so long to hear. You had spent so many sleepless nights staring back at your best friend where he laid sprawled out on the other side of your bed, both of you too traumatized from the day’s monstrosities to sleep alone-- to leave each other. This isn’t how you wanted to find out though.

Amongst the desecration of your normal lives, you wanted to grasp onto the hope of innocence, of pure and untouched love and fondness. You hoped for bashful confessions and spontaneous kisses, ones that were purely Yuji’s intent. Sukuna was snatching the opportunity right from beneath you two, and he knew it.

You shook your head, or tried to with the grip that was forcing your gaze on him.

“My days are filled with his insolent whining, and I don’t find solace at night either.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think by the eager way he was spilling these thoughts out to you that he was happy to spend his fortitude in such a manner. You did know better though, and you knew what he enjoyed was the chance of domestic normalcy he was ripping away from the boy that held him hostage. “No, he touches himself at night.”

“Stop it.” You spat, unable to hold back the dam of your tears any longer. They spilled freely down your cheeks, and you swore you could see his red eyes roll into the back of his head. Your weak hands came up in a desperate attempt to shield your ears from the intimate secrets Yuji likely never intended for you to hear-- not like this anyway. The hand that held your jaw quickly fell, and he laced his fingers through yours mockingly, forcing you to listen.

“That brat thinks of you all night when he’s beating himself off like the degenerate he is. Sometimes he calls out your name too, when he--”

You couldn’t take it anymore, feeling as though you might throw up. Above all else, your heart ached for Yuji, and you wondered if he could hear what was going on, if he was clawing his way out. You wanted to apologize to him, tell him you never meant to find out this way. You wished you could forget.

“Yuji!”

Your cry made the demon smile, but it quickly faded with a knowing furrow of his brows. Eyes drooping lazily as he looked toward you, he shook his head. The marks on his face were slowly absorbing back into his skin. His upper lip curled in disgust.

“Pathetic.”

In an instant, he was falling to the floor limply, bringing you down with him. When you looked up in a frenzied haze at the head that fell onto your chest, you noted with relief that it was Yuji again. His eyes fluttered open deliriously, taking in his surroundings. Looking up, he was met by your grief-stricken expression, fresh tears clinging to your face. His freshly healed arms were pulling himself up clumsily, hovering over you in a way that made it obvious that fear was gripping at every nerve in his body.

“What— what did he do? Are you okay?”

It was Sukuna’s very intention, the manner in which you had no choice but to see Yuji so differently now. As he hovered over you, unintentionally entrapping you under his tensing arms and bare chest, you couldn’t help but blush as the curse’s words rang in your mind. The thought of the boy you’d dreamt about for so long thinking of you in such a way, touching himself to the thought of you, longing for you-- and he was right there within your reach.

“You… you don’t remember?” You whispered, trying to calm your racing heart.

Yuji quickly shook his head, his comforting brown eyes tracing down your body as if to assess the damages. When his hands molded around your waist to pull your shirt up, the one that was slowly flooding through with blood from the gash on your side, you gasped and flinched away. He gulped back his nausea at the racing thoughts of what Sukuna could have done to you to warrant such a response. His hands reeled back to his sides, and he sat back on his knees.

“I got pretty messed up back there… I think I was still healing.” he explained slowly, wanting so badly to help you, but unsure of how you viewed him now-- how scared you were of him. What he didn’t know was that you weren’t scared of him, not at all. In fact, you wanted to pull him in, hold him close, tell him that you’ve loved him all this time as well. It should have been an idyllic occasion. In the back of your mind though, you knew if Yuji hadn’t confessed to you himself already then there was likely a reason, and you shouldn’t force the decision onto him just because the curse residing in him ripped away the layers of protection that shrouded those feelings. “Please, I’m sorry. What did he do to you?”

He didn’t remember, and maybe it was better that way. At least one of you could be spared the humiliation. It took some time, but you had convinced Yuji that you were simply shaken up from the fight, though you felt he still wasn’t entirely convinced. His movements were painfully careful as he carried you to safety. It was so clear in the way he touched you with such delicacy, that he feared scaring you more than he thought he already had.

You stared up at the ceiling that night, tears clouding your vision as you toyed with the edge of the gauze that wrapped your abdomen. In all the time you two had known each other, you couldn’t wrap your head around why he was so scared of opening up to you about the monster he shared a body with. Countless nights you’d spent after missions, as he stared unblinkingly at a wall, begging him to confide in you. In just under five minutes with the thing though, you understood the cruelty he was trying to protect you from.

There was a soft knock on your door, and you lifted your head up as it slid open. Yuji stood tentatively at the entrance, looking like the absolute picture of health compared to your mangled self. He was scratching at the back of his head awkwardly, a little quirk you’d grown to love, much like everything else about him. Flashing you his attempt at a bashful smile, he tilted his head at you.

“Thought you could use some company.” He offered. It was somewhat of a routine of yours to meet together after a particularly grueling mission. The two of you would lay in bed, facing each other with moronic smiles on your lips as you talked about everything-- everything but the horrors you’d witnessed. It was the only way you could find yourself calm enough to fall asleep. If you two talked each other’s ears off about the comparable strength of two manga characters, or argued halfheartedly over what was the superior horror movie in your already trash-fire line up, if you distracted one another line by line-- the two of you would forget about what you saw. Just long enough to allow your eyes to forcefully drift in exhaustion.

Now though, as he stared undecisively at you, you could tell he wasn’t sure if he would still be allowed such privileges. Despite being lost in the labyrinth of your own mind over the night’s events-- over him-- you smiled softly for his sake and patted the spot beside you. Your breath hitched as he eagerly closed the door behind him and climbed into bed beside you. His sigh of relief fanned over the side of your face despite his attempt at concealing it. You felt his eyes on you, his body already on its side and facing you, awaiting for you to do the same.

“Oh, your side.” Yuji sighed in ackowledgement, and you simply nodded in agreement, not wanting to reveal that you simply couldn’t look him in the eyes without bursting on the spot. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as he reached out to softly graze his hand over the wounded area. The boy saw the way your breath hitched and your expression shifted, slowly retracting his hand. “Listen, I’m sorry for whatever happened back there. Please, look at me.”

A little piece of your heart broke off at the pained desperation in his tone. Blinking back the tears that threatened to form, you turned your head to the side to look in his wide, distraught eyes. Softening your gaze, you struggled against your pain as you forced yourself on your side to face him.

“No, Yuji, it’s okay--”

“No it’s not!” In an instant, he was sitting up, looking down at you as his chest heaved with purposeful breaths. “He’s taken everything from me, and I…”

His shoulders slumped, and a rosy tint rushed to his cheeks.

“I won’t let him take you too-- I can’t. So, please, just tell me what I have to do to make you not scared of me anymore, and I’ll do it, okay? I’ll do anything.”

Unable to take it anymore, you moved to sit up with a grunt. Yuji’s hands quickly shot out to help you until you were facing him. He looked back at you with such conviction, such longing in his gaze, and, with hindsight bias, you wondered how you never saw it sooner.

“You’re my best friend, Yuji… I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then why can’t you look me in the eyes?”

You pursed your lips, tentatively taking his hands into yours to hold them between you two. His breath hitched ever so slightly at the connection. Scraping your thumb over his knuckle absentmindedly in a manner that was scrambling his brain like eggs, you thought carefully on your next words.

“You don’t think anything could ruin our friendship… right?” You asked timidly, eyes meeting his through your lashes. His brows furrowed at your question, and he found himself leaning forward to gaze into you sincerely, shaking his head quickly.

“Nothing. Don’t you think we’ve been through too much together already? You’re kinda stuck with me.”

The hesitantly joking tone in his voice made you smile softly. Yuji had a way of easing your anxiety that way, as if there was a little door in your mind that only he had the key to open up and gaze into whenever he pleased. It gave you more confidence to continue your pursuit..

“And there aren’t any secrets between us? Nothing you’ve… not told me?”

Gulping thickly, he felt his face pale. There was something he was keeping from you, something he had come to terms with being content with if it meant he’d never put your relationship in jeopardy. An attempted smile broke into his face, but the corners of his lips were twitching anxiously. You could have melted at the sight.

“Uh… no. You know I tell you everything.” The lie stumbled from his lips unconvincingly. Your lips set into a firm line as you shot him a knowing yet playful look. Suddenly, his eyes were darting everywhere but you. They were at your hands, on your nose, on the ceiling, anywhere that would allow him to gather his thoughts. “Is this about the dent in your bathroom wall? Cause I promise I have a good explaination, a-and I was going to tell you, but you were already upset about the--”

“I love you.” It fell from your lips, permanent, unable to be drawn back in. In truth, the both of you could have died that night. Yuji was practically pinned under a building, and you had been face to face with the king of curses. The sentiment of either of you dying without having heard the depths of your feelings for one another was not lost on you. The lifestyles you led were perilous, self-sacrificing, and morbid. You already lived in fear that your next mission would be your last, and, as you were blanketed by the comfort brought upon by the proximity of the boy you loved so dearly, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel this type of fear too. Not for Yuji.

“Take it back.”

Okay, maybe his blunt order hurt more than the boulder that flew into your side earlier, but you still stood by what you said. A small, breathless gasp fell from your lips as you stared at his solemn expression.

“Oh,” you muttered out meekly, and, despite your burning embarrassment, you couldn’t tear your eyes from his. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“I wanted to say it to you first.” He reiterated, his lips pulled to the side in frustration, eyebrows furrowed as he regarded you. “I spent years thinking of what I wanted to say to you. Take it back.”

Relief flooded your system like a drug, flowing through your veins and relaxing your constricting muscles. In its place came a bashful flush at his words. Smiling softly in disbelief, you shook your head a bit.

“Okay,” you drew out slowly, watching him square his muscles back as if preparing for his line. “I take it back.”

Despite his previous determination and insistence that he had something profound to say, all he could do was lean forward to press his lips against yours clumsily. He couldn’t help himself, not with the way your twinkling eyes stared up at him expectantly, glimmering with an excitement he felt he was alone with for years. A muffled huff of surprise from you was swallowed right up by his eager lips as he lunged forward to deepen the connection he’d just forged.

“‘M sorry,” Yuji mumbled against your mouth, reaching up to grip at the side of your face as if you’d ever run from him. “Know I talked all that shit, but I forgot what I was gonna say. I love you. I just love you. I’ve always loved you.”

He didn’t allow you any room for a response because his desperate push against your lips had you leaning back to accommodate the sudden weight, and you fell back against your pillow. The boy eagerly chased you, crawling over your panting form to pour out all the soliloquies he longed to spill out to you with some semblance of eloquence, he wanted it all conveyed to you through his frenzied devouring of you.

Your mind was reeling with his sudden urgency, and you quickly came to the realization that the both of you had been living with this fear of passing one another up. Your hand snaked up to run along his chest, daring to explore up his neck and into the tufts of his pink hair. A soft moan of your name had you blushing profusely, suddenly remembering what Sukuna had told you about the extent of Yuji’s desires for you. You wondered if this was what he sounded like when he called out to you at night with his hands wrapped around himself. Squinting your eyes, you willed your imagination to take a quick u-turn, remembering that that wasn’t information Yuji had given up willingly.

“Say it back.” Yuji suddenly demanded, finally tearing away from his assault on your lips to stare down at you determinedly. “Say it again.”

Your free hand came up to cup his cheek. There was so much fear and guilt and sadness pent up in your chest at the prospect of what Sukuna had taken from him that night. It had never been like you to lie to him or keep things from him. As your thumb ran across his bottom lip lovingly, and he looked so accomplished, so content with how this night had somehow progressed in his favor, you realized that the curse hadn’t taken anything from him. Not when you were there to make sure that kind of hatred never touched him.

“I love you too, Yuji.”

His wide, boyish grin lit up the dim room. Swinging back down with fervor, the two of you laughed against each other as your teeth clashed messily. Humming contentedly, his wandering hands traveled down your side and snuck up your shirt. God, he’d dreamed of this for so long, and you were right there- underneath of him and pliable to his every touch. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, he could feel it in the way his boxers tightened uncomfortably against him, but he feared he may wake up at any second back in his dorm room alone, like he had so many times following his messianic dreams about what it may be like to have you.

As his fingers creeped up, you flinched against his fervent grasp that lit your wounded side ablaze. Yuji was suddenly reminded of the night’s events, and he cursed quietly before reluctantly pulling away from you. Looking down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, an unbrittled exhilaration swirled in his chest. There would be so many more nights with you, he would make sure of it. He leaned forward to press a last, longing and solemn kiss against your forehead-- a promise that you two would come back to this.

Carefully, he pulled his grasp away from your wounded side and settled down beside you. Unlike those countless nights the two of you shared a bed, Yuji laid snuggly against you, locking your knees under his strong legs. With his head propped up on his elbow, he beamed down at you, lovestruck as he affectionately tugged your shirt back down. As his fingers lingered against the protruding gauze, his expression creased a bit.

“You… you never told me what Sukuna did.”

Although he hated that he felt the need to ruin the moment with such dark thoughts, no amount of lust could have driven that fear from the back of his mind. Your smile faltered marginally at his words. Thinking of how excited he was to confess to you, and how ardently he fell into this new role so comfortably with you, exploring you with an innocence that was a stark contrast to the dark world you two traversed, you shook your head. Leaning up to press an assuring kiss to his cheek, you looked right at the slits under his eyes, as if daring the curse to acknowledge you.

“He didn’t do a damn thing.”

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 5 months ago

Text

pre hotel battle and vaggie wants to round out her gf's stat blocks just a LITTLE bit more

Vaggie: “Okay sweetie, big battle for our lives and hotel coming up.”

Charlie: “Which we are going to WIN and NOT DIE in!”

Vaggie: “Right. First battle you’ve ever been in?”

Charlie: “Technically, yes.”

Vaggie: “Still not vibing with an actual weapon?”

Charlie: “They’re all so…. Pointy and mean looking…?”

Vaggie: “So we’re sticking with the shield plan for you.”

Charlie: “I drew up some designs for one! LOOK! WINGS!!!”

Vaggie: “Really, very cute babe, it’ll look great on you. Very cool thing for any murder angels to smack face first into.”

Charlie: “Thank you!”

Vaggie: “But I’ve been thinking… well no, I’ve been having nightmares-”

Charlie: “OH NO!!!”

Vaggie: “-and if you wanna help with that, maybe you could have, like, just one kinda attack thing?”

Charlie: “Oh.”

Vaggie: “One trick up your sleeve, Charlie. That’s all I’m asking.”

Charlie: “I… I guess… if you’re worried, then…”

Charlie: “…I could… try doing the demon thing… a little…?”

Vaggie: “No you hate that.”

Charlie: (HUGE SIGH) “Okay good! WHEW. So what’s the OTHER attack thing idea??”

Vaggie: “You do have a little of the carnival magic stuff, yeah? Like your dad?”

Charlie: “Oh I love that stuff! YES!”

Vaggie: “I was thinking maybe you could do fireworks.”

Charlie: “FUN!”

Vaggie: “And explode people with them.”

Charlie: “HORRIFYING!!!”

Vaggie: “I know. I know but- just a little, sweetie? For me?”

Charlie: “Explode them, Vaggie? Into, pieces!?”

Vaggie: “I’m picturing globs and chunks actually.”

Charlie: “Vaggie!”

Vaggie: “Sorry, look-” (takes gf’s hands)

Vaggie: “This is gonna be a real battle with a lot of stuff happening. Lots of people. Lots of yelling and people running around. We’re probably gonna get separated at some point-”

Charlie: “No. You’re staying right next to me.”

Vaggie: “Charlie I swear I’m gonna try to, but that's not how big mob fights work out.”

Charlie: “We can MAKE it work like that THIS time!”

Vaggie: “Listen. I really, really want to go into this knowing you’ve got something for crowd control, alright? If a dozen angels swoop down on you and I’m not right there, I wanna know you can give yourself enough breathing space to keep that shield between you and them.”

Charlie: “But- you WILL be there-”

Vaggie: “One hit. That’s all it takes. For me and for them both, and you- please.” (squeezes hands) “They want to kill you. And they can. And they’re gonna try to.”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “… I don’t want, to hurt people.”

Vaggie: “A shield to the face hurts.”

Charlie: “Okay fine- I don’t want to KILL people! Or even get close!”

Vaggie: “That’s fine, that’s the world we’re aiming for.”

Charlie: “But it’s not good enough right now though, is it.”

Vaggie: “… maybe it is.”

Charlie: “You just said…”

Vaggie: “Fuck what I said, you don’t need to detonate anyone for crowd control. You can do lights, right?”

Charlie: “Yes?”

Vaggie: “Bright and flashy ones?”

Charlie: “Obviously, those are the best kinds-”

Vaggie: “So try flashing people.”

Charlie: “Flashing?? Wh- IN THE MIDDLE OF A BATTLE???”

Vaggie: “-blinding, blinding I meant blind them with flashing lights, get them to back off.”

Charlie: “Oh!”

Vaggie: “That a doable thing?”

Charlie: “Yes VERY doable! Like a really amazing sparkler!”

Vaggie: “And they wouldn’t be dead, they just wouldn’t be able to see enough to attack you.”

Charlie: “It wouldn’t even really HURT THEM even!”

Vaggie: “Sure. Unless they trip or fly into something.”

Charlie: “And you’d feel better???”

Vaggie: “Much, much better.”

Charlie: “Enough to sleep?”

Vaggie: “When you’re not keeping me up half the night with kisses, yeah. I think so.”

Charlie: “I’LL DO IT! I’ll practice weaponizing pretty sparkles!”

Vaggie: “Thanks, babe.”

Charlie: “What battle weapon-y things should I be practicing with them, in practice?”

Vaggie: “Uhhh make it a reflex, fine tune your aim…”

Charlie: “Fun!”

Vaggie: “Figuring out how to not blind everyone else too would be good.”

Charlie: “That’s a good point, hmm-”

Charlie: “-Ohhhhh I could make the lights SMALL. Very small, so they don’t do much on their own- then only someone who’s super close and I’m aiming for and who gets a face FULL of them would really be blinded!”

Vaggie: “You’re so smart.”

Charlie: “OH MY GOSH I COULD THROW GLITTER BOMBS!”

Vaggie: “That honestly sounds terrifying. I love it.”

Charlie: “HEHEHHEHEH.”

Charlie: (smooches her)

Charlie: “We’ll stay together in the fight so you can have front row seats to the light show, okay?”

Vaggie: "... we can try to..."

Charlie: "Will. We will stay together."

Vaggie: “… and, you’ll practice hard until then.”

Charlie: “I will!”

Vaggie: (lets out breath) “Then we’ll be okay. And also sparkly.”

Charlie: “Same thing~”

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #incorrect quotes #local fighter be like “if the woman i love isn't gonna have a weapon in this fight then she NEEDS at least a few good cantrips”

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strawberrymochin · 1 month ago

Text

𝐀 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 ☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

satosugu x fem!reader

Synopsis- Satoru once came across a rumour regarding a cafe he visited years ago. Rumour has, it possesses the capability to whisk one back in time— to the past. He never took time travel seriously. After all it was a law of nature, a string left to be untouched even by jujutsu. Yet, now years later, he finds himself fiddling in front of the cafe contemplating whether to get in or not.

Warnings- time travel!au, gojo travels back in time to meet geto one last time and talk to him without regrets, so so so angsty with fluffy fluff that makes one melt, deep conversations, emotional conflict, mentions of death & blood, geto being so soft with gojo, reader being so cold to gojo, cozy vibes, based on ‘before the coffee gets cold’ by toshikazu kawaguchi.

Word count- 4.3k

a/n- omg! i finished writing this in one day. i had this idea ever since i read the series. i really wanted satoru to travel back in time and meet geto. this is a fic i wrote for me. please tell me if this brings a smile on your face. comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. do read the book its amazing and yeah have a good day besties. oh and a yuuta fic is coming soon.

Gojo satoru, always had a big cocky smile plastered to his face. A smile which overshadowed his eyebags, his half healed melancholic wounds and his regrets.

He loved being a jujutsu sorcerer. But often he had not. Especially, when past memories come back overflowing in his mind, drowning him out of the present. Sinking him in the despair of not being able to save someone who was so close to his heart. And he regretted it.

He regretted the words he left unsaid to geto suguru, the one who once claimed to be his best friend.

The one, who's body is lying, trapped in cold webs of death.

Gojo wasn't a person who had enough time to reminisce about the past. He had to take care of missions, exorcising curses, teach his beloved students and save the youth of the young generation to feel less guilty.

Most of the days being hectic which he'd spend with the same cocky smile, grinning from teeth to teeth. And yet amongst his tight schedule which only allows him 3 hours of slumber, he still couldn't get a brink of sleep without having flashed the face of his best friend.

And the familiar feeling of having a lump in the throat, unable to shout out the words he intended to say. He intended to cry out desperately for geto to stop. To not leave him behind.

But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get one word past his lips. He just simply couldn't. Maybe because he knew geto wouldn't listen. Or maybe he was afraid of rejection. Whatever the reason might be, back then, now it's all excuses.

Years later, the itch of unable to form those words still persists and it grows each day. Thrives in the threshold of the suppressed emotions gojo has buried deep in his heart.

Yet.

And yet.

Here he was, standing infront of the cafe ‘lá láttes’ contemplating whether to get in or not.

He used to frequent this cafe with geto during his first and second years. Before everything went wrong.

Geto always found this one cafe, a bit peculiar with bits of comfort hidden inside. He loved coming to this cafe and always used to order pumpkin spice latte without the maple syrup. Odd indeed gojo thought.

Though he loved the way geto drank up his latte, the way he used to gulp and nod satisfactorily at the taste being not very sweet.

The cafe was situated at the outskirts of Tokyo, back in a narrow alley. It was a basement cafe with only 9 seats to offer. Most of the time it didn't attract any new customers but only a bunch of regulars, among whom geto was one.

The cafe still looked the same from a decade ago. Only a little to no renovations were noticed.

The board which displayed the cafe's name was still covered with the big leaves of a money plant curling itself from the stand.

Clang-dong

The glass door opened as gojo shifted his head to the other direction trying to appear nonchalant. He slowly brought back his vision to the person who came outside to dump the trash. The recognition rang through in his mind as pictures of the owner flashed in his mind. He has grown old, now grey tainting his previous brown hair.

The owner looked at gojo, dusting off his hands, as his eyes narrowed at him.

“Omg, the blue eyed? Aren't you?”

Gojo frozen for a second, mentally cursing himself for gaping at the owner. Smiling nervously, he nodded at the owner, “good afternoon.”

“Haha, good afternoon, you've grown up quite a bit hah!” The owner closed the distance between them before grabbing the door handle and opening it. “Come in. Let me treat ya’.” He said, gesturing to him to come inside.

“Oh no! You don't have to.” Hands vigorously shaking criss cross, not wanting to freeload. The cafe itself has a very few customer base, gojo can't sit right with the idea of freeloading.

“Nah! It's on the house. Come in boy!” the owner dragged him in.

Clang-dong

The doorbell chimed through the staircase as the owner guided him downstairs to the basement. The smell hasn't changed too, musky and rich with the aroma of crushed coffee beans.

As expected the cafe was empty except for two customers, one occupying the seat very last to the third row. His back hunched over several magazines, scribbling information on a small notepad.

While the other one was a lady in white, a big straw hat placed on her table while she read a novel with golden letters printed on the covers —‘The lovers’, barely looking up from the book.

Gojo recognised her as a regular. He'd noticed her often when he tagged along with geto. She wore the same white flowy dress down her knees and always read the same novel.

The owner asked him to sit on the counter and order a drink of his choice, passing him the menu card.

“Pumpkin spice latte,” gojo said without bothering to look at the menu. “Without maple syrup.” His eyes growing foggy as distant memories start clouding his mind. He sighed, before turning to look at the regular seat they used to occupy. The middle one in the first row.

Did geto still used to visit this cafe even after they stopped contacting each other? He couldn't help but wonder.

“Do you know the rumours about this cafe?” Geto said, sipping on his pumpkin spice.

“Rumours?”

“Yes, people say this cafe can whisk one back in time.” Gojo choked on his drink trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in his throat. “Really? You want me to believe in this shit?”

“Naah! But it's interesting, even a jujutsu sorcerer can't interfere with time.” geto’s crescent moons crinkled a bit as he quirked a sassy eyebrow at him. “If you could go back in time, who would you meet?” geto asked raising his eyebrows.

“I simply wouldn't.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because it's not possible.” Gojo laughed it off, while geto just sulked a little. He firmly believed that interfering with the flow of time isn't possible. It could distort the world and just simply impossible.

He didn't answer geto’s question back then.

He wondered why?

Maybe because he didn't have any reason to go back.

But what about now?

“Here…” the owner passed the pumpkin spice latte to gojo as he muttered thanks to the owner. “So, haven't seen you here for a while…. where's your friend?”

Gojo stopped midway on his sip of latte, he looked at the owner and put the glass back down. “eh…you see…” he couldn't quite find the right words to say. Normally he would have maintained his composure and maybe even winked and said ‘sowwy I killed him.’ with a peace sign included.

However he seemed unable to regain his normal demeanor. The mask he put on for so long was broken. And it shattered into pieces with his vulnerable self showing, bare to the world. He felt ashamed for no reason.

“He…um is dead.” Awkwardly shifting in the round stool, he couldn't meet his gaze with the owner. As if he could see through him and will be disgusted by the truth. The truth he hated for so long— of killing his best friend with his own hands.

Of abandoning the corpse unable to handle the burden, leaving it to rot. Gojo felt disgusted, yet he masked himself with the same cocky smile he was fed up of wearing and went to his students.

Oh how awfully obnoxious he felt.

And how desperately he wanted things to change.

Later that night, he kept on washing his hands for hours. Scrubbing his skin with his nails, scraping the hands tainted in the blood of his beloved.

His hands were clean.

Though the red splatters of blood kept appearing again and again.

“Oh,” the owner gulped, shifting his eyes from gojo to the kitchen.

Gojo opened his mouth once again. He had practiced these words for the past week. He was the strongest. Then why was he getting nervous now? He gulped his own saliva trying to moisten his dried throat.

The pumpkin spice latte was still untouched.

“I wa—” he didn't get to finish his sentence as the owner interrupted him. His old wrinkled eyes now had a dull spark. Dangerous even, saying to be left untarnished but as if compelled to a spell, he spilled the words in gojo's stead. “So, you want to go back in time.”

If you could go back in time, who would you meet?

“Yes,” gojo lets out a shaky breath, wiping his clammy hands on the fabric of his pants. “Yes, I do.”

He sounded desperate, for he'd been wretched in anguishing fraught, so long that now the cry echoed in his ears. He'd seen geto, controlled by kenjaku. His body, being used even after his death— a weapon.

Is this the curse of being a jujutsu sorcerer?

He regretted the very moment. If only he'd said those words back then maybe the present he was living in would be a bit different.

If only he tried a little hard.

If only.

“Why?” the owner asked him with unwavering eyes, piercing through his soul. “What reason do you have to go back?”

“I…there are words I need to convey.” Gojo gulped feeling hot and sweaty even though the basement was well ventilated. The owner narrowed his eyes as if scrutinizing him. “Can I really go back in time? I really need to tell him something.”

The owner stayed quiet. His hands simply wiping the inside of the freshly washed glasses. “Sounds trivial.”

A voice emerges from the kitchen as you handle the owner, a fresh pack of coffee beans yet to be grinded.

“Wha—”

“Y/n! Don't be rude to customers.” The owner said in hushed voice, which was clearly audible as the cafe was almost empty.

You rolled your eyes at gojo and get back in the kitchen.

“I'm sorry for my daughter's behavior.”

“Oh…it's fine.” Gojo stayed quiet a while clearly offended but when the owner said nothing more, he stood up from his seat. That's right it was a rumour after all. Time travel isn't possible, what is he on drugs or something? He felt dumb for believing in something even kids wouldn't trust.

“I'm sorry for taking up your time. I'd like to pay for the drink.”

“eh…you're not going back?”

“To where?”

“To the past.”

“I…I can? It's true.”

The owner smiled wryly before answering, “yes. It's true.”

Gojo felt like a dummy and his head spinning, he didn't wanted to believe in this, yet the slightest chance to meet geto and maybe change the future.

“Though I would like to inform you, one can't change the present.” gojo’s eyes widened as if caught red handed stealing. He didn't get it, if all this was a joke or he was the joke.

“Huh?”

“You can travel back in time. That's upon the customer to decide. If you want, sure you can. But…”

“But?”

“Traveling back in time comes with lots of risk. And there are certain rules. One of them being— you can't change the present.” The owner explained now pouring the fresh coffee beans into the grinder.

“What do you mean? Isn't a change back in the past followed by a change in the future?”

“Well it's for the folks. However, no. You cannot change the present,” the owner waved his palm flat in the air, gesturing him to return to his seat. “You can try but the present will not be altered. A friend, dead will not be alive even if you try to prevent it.”

“So are you still willing to go…even if the present can't be changed?” The owner shifted the grinded beans into the pot, ready to brew a handmade fresh cup of coffee, while waiting for gojo’s reply.

Gojo looked back to the seat they used to occupy in the past. So what if he's still dead? If gojo can somehow share his feelings, or maybe even see his face— see geto, the real geto, the one who has its own soul and not controlled by kenjaku, the one who recognises gojo. It won't be that bad right?

“I still want to go,” gojo was disappointed, but even if seeing geto for one last time was possible he would not miss it. He'd regretted not acting upon his impulse before and he doesn't want to regret it again. Not now, given any benefit of doubts.

“Sure.” The owner nods painfully slow, having gojo rethink if this isn't some vile prank.

“So..?”

“Oh, I'm afraid we'll have to wait for a while. The specific seat is now occupied by…um the lady in white. Y/n can explain the rules to you meanwhile.”

“Why? I can just request her to unoccupy the seat for a while.” Gojo suggested, standing up when the owner halted his actions. “Oh no! I'd suggest you not.”

“Why?”

“You see…the lady is…a ghost.”

“A curse you mean…I can exorcise it.”

“No. A ghost. Not a curse.”

“Are you kidding me? If the thing is just a rumour you could just tell me the truth. There's no need to make excus—” The owners deadpan look caused his words to die midway.

“How long do I've to wait?”

“A little while. She will soon go to the washroom. You can finish your drink till then.”

Gojo had no other option but to comply with the owner's words. He tried using his six eyes but for some reason it didn't work well as if the cafe has its own domain blocking out the powers of other jujutsu.

A while later gojo had ordered two more drinks he finished sipping and the lady was still glued to her seat. ‘what a bummer!’ he thought.

You walked out again from the kitchen this time with a bunch of paper napkins. “Why are you still here?”

“Y/n!” The owner hushed you again, explaining you the entire situation and ushering you to explain the rules to gojo, who was sitting confused.

You hated when people came here to travel back in time. The fact you even hated yourself more than you've to be involved in this.

Rolling your eyes in annoyance, you step infront of the white haired guy. “I expect you know the rules?” You cocked an irritated eyebrow at him.

“Um…no.”

“Ah…I might advise you to run away then. The rules aren't made for someone weak.” You smirk clearing away his empty cups for a wash.

“do you even know who I am? I'm gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer throughout heaven and earth.” he'd enough of your brat behavior.

“The strongest in your dreams…why are you so desperate to go back then? Do you regret anything you should've done but couldn't since you're a coward?”

“Y/n!,” the owner scolded you, as you rolled your eyes again. “I'm sorry, she's always sensitive when we have customers wanting to travel back in time.” Gojo just nods at the owner. Your bitter words rang through his ears. And worse that you're more or less right.

Do you regret anything you should've done but couldn't since you're a coward?

“I will be stating the rules…better be attentive.” You say taking in a deep breath calming your raging heart.

“you can't change the present no matter how hard you try.

“you must sit in a specific seat for being able to travel back in time.

“you can only meet people who have been in the cafe.

“Once you're back in the past you can not get up from the seat. If you do, you will be forced back to the present.

“Your time starts in the past once I start pouring the coffee in your cup and it lasts till your last sip of the coffee.

“That many?! Isn't it too overboard?” gojo interrupts you, his jaw opened wide hitting the counter. “Overboard or not. You've to follow…”

The creaking noise hits both of your ears drawing attention to the lady in white. She slowly raised from her seat, flipping the book shut and placing it on the table. Emptying the seat, she went outside to the left, where the bathroom was.

Clang-dong

Gojo looked at you.

“Alright go take your seat.”

What's so special about this specific seat? He thought but went anyway. Upon settling in the seat, he realised it’s no different from the ordinary chairs. Pretty much the same, however the temperature of the air surrounding the half of the table was slightly different from the rest of the cafe. It was a bit cold.

Will he now go back to the past?

To geto suguru?

What will he say?

He'd practiced it so many times in his head, in front of the mirror, on his way to this cafe and yet he felt completely blank right now.

He won't be able to change the present or the future, still….

You came over to his seat carrying a silver tray with a kettle of similar silver. There was nothing so special about the cups you placed infront of him too, clearing away the previously used ones of the lady in white.

Gojo’s blank mind had millions of thoughts flooding now. What will he do if he ends up at the wrong time? Will he really travel back time?

“You just need to imagine the time your friend was sure to visit while I pour the coffee.” You say, picking up on his thoughts, brewing the coffee now.

The rich aroma of the coffee filled the entire atmosphere surrounding him. He wasn't really fond of coffee, especially hand brewed ones, he looked for the owner, his old eyes plastered on the glassdoor.

“I will pour your cup now. Just remember to finish the entire cup before the coffee gets cold.”

“what happens if I don't?”

“Then you will be sitting as a ghost in this seat until someone else occupies your position.” Gojo shot his head up to look at you, your eyes had the same deadpan look as the owner. “Just sip it before it gets cold and you will be fine.”

You start pouring the coffee without allowing gojo anymore questions.

He was about to speak, he didn't understand the last rule. What did it mean? But he couldn't get any voice out of his throat.

A thin string of hot steam coming from his coffee gulped him in as if he was the steam himself, flowing up along with it. The three clocks surrounding the walls of the cafe now became big and blurry yet striking clear. Its hands are each revolving in different directions. It's not the time to think about what's happening. He closes his eyes, trying to imagine the day geto would surely make his visit.

Saturday mornings.

Soon gojo’s waving body materialized as he felt his sensations back. His eyes still closed shut. Slowly he opened his eyes. The cafe was pretty much same. Nothing changed. Except it being totally empty. And at the counter a much younger owner.

Did he really travel back in time?

But he was all alone. Geto wasn't in the cafe.

The owner looked at him, and ignored.

“Um…” gojo said, trying to get the owner’s attention.

“Yes…oh the blue eyed. What happened?” He asked concerned, the wrinkles under his eyes looked much softer.

Clang-dong

Gojo looked behind the owner, his breath hitching as his eyes widened.

It was geto suguru.

The owner followed gojo’s eyes and welcomed geto in.

“suguru…” his voice barely a whisper echoed through the entire cafe.

Geto, who finally noticed, freezed a while, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Satoru?” Geto gulped, before awkward tugging his hands back in his pockets, unwillingly walking up to him and sitting down at the seat opposite to him. “The regular…” geto ordered, before turning his head back to gojo.

“Why are you here?” Geto asked directly.

“I…uh I was just passing by.” He lied.

Geto leaned back in his seat, his eyes unreadable.

Gojo sucked in a breath. What is he doing? This isn't why he was here. He wanted to talk. But he couldn't find his words again. He gulped thickly ready to blurt any incoherent talk at him.

Gojo didn't think anymore. He didn't cared about words any more, he just wanted to have one last conversation.

“just why?” Geto hissed, “why did you come back?”

He knew?

“I…ah..”

“Satoru you can't expect me not to know when you're sitting here in this seat.” He blurted frustratingly, bringing his thumb and index to massage his temples.

“I wanted to apologize,” he met his eyes with geto, saying nothing for a while. The owner brought and placed geto’s pumpkin spice in the table, whisking himself away to the kitchen to leave both of them alone.

“Drink.” Geto ordered.

“What?”

“Drink the coffee, you moron!” He let his head fall in his palms, before groaning.

Gojo sipped the bitter coffee a bit, placing the cup back down to the saucer. It was still warm.

“Why are you so infuriated—”

“How can I not satoru? You know you're being mean. Why must you do so? Just sip the entire coffee and go back.”

“No!” he protested, maybe first time being so vulnerable to someone but he didn't care. “No, I want to talk to you!”

“satoru ple—”

“Suguru, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being with you when I should've been there. Sorry I turned a blind eye to you. Sorry for neglecting you. I told myself I was the strongest…but no I'm not. You asked me if I'm the strongest because I'm satoru gojo or I'm satoru gojo because I'm the strongest…let me answer you,” he took in a deep breath before continuing, “I'm not the strongest suguru. I'm not. I was the strongest— because of you. Because you were with me. Because we were the strongest, suguru. I'm the worst friend ever. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I couldn't stop you that day. I wanted to, desperately. I wanted you to stop and not leave me behind alone. I wanted you to think of me suguru. But I couldn't say that.”

The cafe was silent. So was geto. He never expected gojo to burst out like this.

“So…do I die or what?” Geto laughed at gojo’s face twisting into horror. “So I do die.”

“How can you laugh?” Gojo asked him as geto pointed him to sip on the coffee, which he did.

“I'm laughing at how messed up you look without me…did you have a hard time?” gojo doesn't answer him trying to calm himself down.

“Listen bummer, you don't have to feel guilty. I chose this path on my own. And I don't regret it, even if I die. Just take care of your shit.” geto sighed, “though I'm skeptical about the one who unalives me…bet it’d be you—” geto halts mid sentence.

Gojo felt something wet in his face, afraid, he brought his hands up to his face, wiping it only to find his tears. Great, he just cried infront of him.

Geto gulped thickly, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry,” he bit his lips before continuing. “atleast you could do is curse me a little at the very end.”

Geto’s words made him cry even harder. He didn't try to stop him though.

“satoru, please don't be mean to me, gulp the entire coffee and go back before it gets cold. You wouldn't want me to go into another depressive slump will ya’.” he forwarded his hand hesitatingly, wrapping around gojo’s. He knew the rules of this cafe, and he didn't wanted satoru to stay any longer, considering the bigger threat that looped at gojo’s neck. He didn't wanted the coffee to get cold and gojo to be stuck forever in the time loop becoming the next ghost to haunt the seat.

“Drink it for me, will ya’.” he said in the most sweetest voice gojo will ever hear again and wiping his tears with the other hand he forwarded the cup to gojo.

Unwillingly, gojo gulps the bitter coffee, not caring for the aftertaste, his time would end soon. He grips suguru’s hand even tighter. He didn't tell him about kenjaku or the mistakes he'd made, but at least he didn't regretted anymore.

“Be safe and healthy for me.” Suguru’s words echoed through his ears as he lost his sensations in his body, as if floating upwards. geto's grip on gojo's hand wavered as if he's holding onto air.

He will not regret anymore.

“I love you.” he shouted, uncertain, if his voice would reach to geto or not. But he did shout. And geto smiled. He smiled as sweetly as the ocean smiles to those who willingly drown. He muttered something to gojo which wasn't audible to him. And before he knew he opened his eyes in the present again.

You stood up straight from the counter, sighing in relief, before whisking yourself back to the kitchen.

“I'm glad you came back safe.” said the owner.

“Yes. Yes thankyou.” He didn't knew but his cheeks still had those tear stains the owner chose to ignore.

He didn't get to listen to suguru's last words but he didn't regretted anymore.

“Move.” the lady in white commanded as gojo immediately stood up walking straight to the counter.

“I'd like to pay.”

“Yeah. But the pumpkin spice latte’s on the house.”

“Sure.” Gojo smiled brightly, and for the first time in years he felt it wasn't a mask but a genuine smile. He'd soon catch up with geto.

“ So that will be 2700 yen.”

“Here.”

Clang-dong.

The lady in white sat on her seat and opened the novel again; the one titled The lovers.

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sanaxo-o · 3 months ago

Text

Brought The Heat Back (Kim Sunwoo)

Warnings/Genre: from friends to strangers to lovers to sum it up, jealous Sunwoo in a good way, fluff, angst ig, kissing scenes, mildly suggestive (wow finally my debut??), Sunwoo gets drunk, Eric being the bestie everyone deserves, cursing ig? I don’t remember honestly, Sunwoo and the reader are both stupid honestly. Idk what else comes here so yeah…tell me if I have to add more

Sana: so I wrote this like last month but had to wait a whole month because I wanted to publish it on Izzy’s birthday. A huge thanks to @deobienthusiast @winterchimez @mosviqu and @itsbeeble for beta reading it and giving me countless compliments 🫶🏻. I honestly loved writing this so I hope you guys enjoy reading it just as much!

Word Count: 4,943

Taglist: @deoboyznet @kimsohn @a-dream-bookmark @cloverdaisies @quaissants @loserlvrss @bella-feed

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Clenching his fist tightly Sunwoo couldn’t help but let out a scoff unknowingly when he saw you flirting with that same guy again.

It might have been a few weeks since summer break ended but Sunwoo didn’t expect for you to already move on from whatever the two of you had.

It wasn’t like you both were dating per se. You weren’t but it wasn’t even like you both were just friends.

I mean from what he knows friends don’t kiss each other, nor do they make out in the summer heat with their fingers intertwined with one another.

It was like it was yesterday when the two of you were ‘dating’ and while it lasted it was nothing but a safe space of heaven for Sunwoo.

He was never someone to take a person seriously but with you, it felt different. It was as if you were the one for him the moment the two of you decided to hang out together in summer.

The way you ditched your friends at the party because he was sitting outside alone. No one had ever done that for him, even though it was just to keep him company Sunwoo still felt his heart swell with content as he listened to you ramble on and on about some plushies you had at your old house in Australia.

At that very moment Sunwoo had that sudden urge to show you around the town, I mean you were new in the area. You probably didn’t know the most shortcuts so it was kind of his responsibility (it wasn’t) to show you around, no?

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” He whispers softly as he extends his hand towards you waiting for you to take it.

Sunwoo could feel his heart racing at an abnormal rate as he waited for your response. The longer you took to answer the more he felt like it was a stupid idea.

I mean who in the sane mind would walk around a town at night with someone they barely know?

“Uh sure I guess?” Sunwoo hears your small mumble as you flash him a nervous smile.

Maybe you were insane enough to do just what he had in mind.

Heaving out a low chuckle Sunwoo slowly wraps his fingers around yours as he pulls you up from the floor.

“So why did you come to this town? I mean it’s summer break..” Sunwoo asks as he walks beside you on the empty road.

“Oh I came here on a scholarship. I wanted to explore more in the summer break and maybe if I like it here I can study here for this semester. That’s what I had in mind so far.” Unknowingly Sunwoo’s eyes light up when he hears your consideration on staying here for the whole semester.

Maybe it was just because he never had met someone like you but your vibes were just so different from the girls he normally hung out with.

With others he never felt like he could truly be himself but with you it just felt like he was free.

Call him crazy for feeling this was about a girl he just met but that was just how he felt and somehow this new feeling was making him feel alive more than anything.

“Dude why the hell are you staring at Y/N like a creep?” Snapping back to reality Sunwoo throws a glare at Eric as he diverts his attention back to the now you who was just flirting with Hyunjae.

Seeing you getting all touchy with someone other than him made him feel like punching someone.

Now that’s something he never felt before because why would he ever feel like punching the guy just because you were flirting with him? It’s not like you guys were dating before for him to feel that way.

Then why? The more he stared at you smiling at someone who was not him just made him lose his patience.

If someone said that punching someone without getting in trouble was allowed then he’d waste no time in doing just that because his patience was running too thin for him to control it longer.

Looking away Sunwoo sighed as he closed his locker with a thud. He knew that if he looked at you for any longer than he might just lose his patience and he did not want to create a scene.

It’s not his fault he’s feeling that way. It’s just that you have the ability to make anyone want to talk with you more and more. He’s only admitting that because he felt it when you decided to strike a conversation with him for the first time.

If it was anyone else he would have just rolled his eyes and walked away but when he saw it was you he felt that feeling of getting to know you more.

The curiosity of knowing you better and spending time with you was bigger than anything else and now seeing you standing there with Hyunjae just made him go crazy. I mean, why were you even flirting with other guys when he was right there?

“If you’re wondering why you got ditched like that then it’s totally your fault.” Sunwoo hears Eric’s voice say from beside him as he does nothing to deny it.

He himself knows that you’re ignoring his whole existence and presence because he was the first one to do so.

He didn’t want to ignore you but he was just scared of hurting you by doing something which wasn’t supposed to be done. He was scared that if he let the relationship you had escalate further, something wrong would happen along the way and he would lose you.

He did feel like he was gonna commit to it for real this time but then maybe overthinking about making a mistake in the future led him to distance himself with you and now he is the one who has to see you with some other guys who’s not him.

It’s a weird feeling he’s having but somehow he’s envious of Hyunjae because he gets to be close with you and hear your laugh everyday unlike him who was even scared to approach you now.

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“Can I ask one thing?” Eric asks Sunwoo who had just entered the classroom and was placing his stuff down.

“What now?” Sunwoo asks in an annoyed voice as he flashes a glare at Eric and diverts his attention back at you, who was busy talking with that guy again.

He couldn’t believe you would just ignore his whole existence as if that night didn’t almost take place.

“No need to get annoyed at me..” Eric mumbles as he heaves out a sigh when he notices Sunwoo’s longing stare at your figure again.

Eric admits that he has never seen his best friend be this jealous over a certain girl. Now if Eric decided to confront Sunwoo about his jealousy over you then he’d deny it for sure and he didn’t want to argue with his stubborn ass again.

“You both were talking when the semester started. Why did you cut ties suddenly?” Hearing Eric’s question Sunwoo stiffens in his seat as he remembers the events that took place the night before you both stopped interacting with each other completely.

Covering his eyes with his hands Sunwoo takes in a deep breath as he tries to get his thoughts straight before answering Eric’s question.

-x-

Sunwoo POV

My ears perk up when I suddenly hear the doorbell ringing. Looking up at the clock I tilt my head in confusion as I see the hands indicating that it was 11 o’clock.

Why would anyone come over at this hour? I stand up with shaky legs as I grab the pan from the kitchen and take slow and steady steps towards the door.

Opening the peephole I furrow my eyebrows when I see you standing outside with just a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

I let out a yelp when you throw yourself at me the moment I open the door.

“Hey hey, what’s wro-” I widen my eyes when you kiss me without letting me even complete my sentence fully.

It’s as if someone had turned the gears in my mind as I immediately sink my lips with yours. The way your tongue was battling with mine to prove dominance was something I had never experienced with you before.

I snake my hands at the small of your back as I lead you towards my bedroom. Opening the door I push you against the wall as I caress your cheek with my free hand while the other plays with the loose strands of your hair.

I pull away from the kiss slowly when I feel your hands tapping against my chest.

I feel a small smile creep up my face when I realise that for once I wasn’t scared of what was going to happen next and I was fully on board with whatever thought you had at the moment.

“I…were we about to..?” I feel my heart sink when I hear you ask that question. Wait…did you not want it? Was I going too fast? Was I pushing you into doing something you didn’t want?

“Uh…I don't know. Did you not have the same thing in mind?” I questioned back, as my voice came out shakier than I intended it to be.

“No..no it’s not that..” I take a step back when you say that, too afraid to hurt you by any chance, “Fuck..I just had a lot in my mind and I didn’t know what I was thinking..”

My eyes widen when you say that. Worry and concern immediately coming across my face as I reach out to comfort you but retract my hand back when you back away from me.

“You know what…forget..forget this ever happened. I should go..” I take a step forward to stop you. To tell you that I am there for you to listen to your problems but I didn’t have the guts in me to do so.

Not after what just happened. What if you were uncomfortable by being around me? That can’t happen though…we always had our own way with our conversations.

I snap out of my thoughts when I hear my front door close with a thud. It was as if the moment I closed my eyes, your smiling face would flash in my mind.

From that moment on, I decided that I would distance myself from you. I cannot imagine losing someone like you over something so small…

What if you guys go on a date and get in a relationship? You’re bound to break up and then that break up would lead to you cutting off ties with him.

And if he does that first then he doesn’t have to worry about you getting hurt more, right? It doesn’t make sense he knows but the way the events turned out at the moment isn’t really letting him think clearly.

-x-

“Did Y/N try to approach you the next day?” I look up at Eric when I hear his question.

I let my pencil slip from my hands as I stopped scribbling around on the book.

“She did but I may have ignored her…” I mumbled quietly as I shared a look with Eric. I could see his eyes flash a tiny bit of disappointment but he shakes his head and looks ahead at the professor again.

“Why can’t you just talk it out with her? I am sure she has an explanation for whatever happened and why she stormed out that night.” I look up thoughtfully at his suggestion but quickly shake my head as I ponder on that thought more.

“Why not?” Eric asks in confusion as he continues staring at me, waiting for my reply but all he got in return was my silence as I slowly diverted my attention back at you.

I mess my hair up as I feel that weird feeling back at the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was going crazy the more I stared at you smiling so sweetly at hyunjae. It should be me instead of him.

“WHAT THE HELL!” I yelled loudly when Eric suddenly pushed me off my chair. I glared at him as I looked around the classroom and noticed the countless eyes staring at me but you were still not looking at me.

It’s as if you just wiped out the fact that I just screamed loudly and possibly hurt myself because of Eric.

Standing up from the floor I bow as I feel my cheeks starting to burn from embarrassment. Getting back in my seat I shove Eric away from me as I bury my face in between my hands as I try to forget about what just happened.

“At least tell me now why you won’t confront her.” Eric asks more calmly now as he tries to make me sit straight.

I sigh as I look at him from the corner of my eyes, “I am scared of what she will reply. It’s better if we both act like it didn’t happen, right?” I reply as I steal one last glance at you and Hyunjae only to look away in less than a second when I feel my head spinning.

“Do you know what you’re feeling right now?” I groan when he opens his mouth. Why does he never shut up?

“What?” I ask in annoyance as I place my head on the table, not taking any interest in whatever he was about to say.

“Jealousy.” I whip my head at him when he says that. Me? And being jealous? For what? Yeah sure whenever I see you smiling at him I feel that burning sensation, or when you laugh at whatever stupid joke he made.

I scoff as I shake my head, “Yeah sure. I don’t get jealous over such a trivial matter. I bet I know Y/N better than he does.” I mumble before sliding down on the chair to try and possibly hide myself from the whole world.

“Tell that to yourself but I sure do see you being jealous.” I flick Eric’s head when he says that again.

I am definitely not jealous.

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Y/N POV

I sighed as I heard Sunwoo’s voice arguing with Eric. It wasn’t a new occurrence for me anymore and honestly I was quite used to it ever since I started hanging out with Sunwoo in summer.

I’d hate to admit it but Sunwoo was the only guy who honestly made me alive enough in summer (to be frank I never truly enjoyed holidays because I am someone who felt like I needed to be busy and working all the time).

I diverted my attention back at Hyunjae as I smiled softly at him. He was a good guy but he was not Sunwoo.

He didn’t have the same aura or personality like Sunwoo and I begged myself to try and find at least some of that charm in Hyunjae which I was dying to see.

I admit that I was kind of in the wrong to storm out of Sunwoo’s house when we both knew what it was leading to. I didn’t want to make him overthink about my reaction too much but to be frank I was just too damn nervous to think straight that when I snapped back into reality I didn’t know what to do.

It was as if I didn’t have control over my own body and I just stormed out of there after blabbering some shit which probably made Sunwoo misunderstand the whole situation.

BUT I did try to explain myself the next day but Sunwoo acted as if nothing had happened the day before and it just made me feel worse about my actions. Did I hurt him that much? Was I too nervous to realise that maybe what it was leading to could have been nice?

I don’t know but I wish I could just turn back the time and relive the moment so that I don’t make the same mistake as before.

“Are we set on tonight?” I blink my eyes a few times as I look at hyunjae for a moment only to look away quickly while clearing my throat.

“Uh for what? I was just spaced out for a moment there.” I mumble as I scribble down the notes in my book in shabby handwriting (I could still read what I wrote so that’s all that matters, no?)

“Yeah I noticed later on. I was talking about our date. I will pick you up at 8:00. Fine by you?” I nod my head as I chew on my nails as I drift back to the unconditional memories I had made with Sunwoo.

-x-

“Sssp!” I flinch when Sunwoo shoves my hand away from my mouth with a hiss escaping his throat. I threw a glare in his direction as I hit the back of his head before slowly bringing my nails back to my mouth only for it to be pulled away by Sunwoo as he intertwined our fingers together to stop me from biting on the nails.

I could feel my cheeks burning from embarrassment and shyness as I cleared my throat and looked anywhere but at Sunwoo.

“Look I know you have grown a habit of biting your nails but instead of biting on those nasty nails why don’t you try and talk with me instead? I am here to listen to you, you know?” When I hear those words of Sunwoo it strangely enough comforts me in ways which I never knew were possible.

I didn’t even know that I wanted to be comforted. Maybe all those thoughts getting jumbled in my brain really messes up with what I really need.

I give Sunwoo a small nod as I look ahead again, “Well now you have me to stop you from biting your nails.” Sunwoo whispers as he pokes my cheeks with his other finger.

I just chuckle at that and bring my other hand up to squeeze his cheeks. The way I loved it when he pouted I thought as I smiled at him fondly.

-x-

I look back at Sunwoo in thought, my face contorted with slight pain as I try my best not to have a breakdown over not only Sunwoo but also just about life in general.

I feel my heart racing rapidly when I make eye contact with Sunwoo. It was as if it was just the two of us in the room and everyone else had either just disappeared or they were in slow motion.

It didn’t seem to last long since before I could even offer a smile at Sunwoo he had already looked away.

Oh how I wish I could change this awkward phase in whatever relationship we had and just go back to how it used to be.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

I kick the rocks on the ground as I try to drown out the voices in the background. Well the date did not go well per se (it’s not Hyunjae’s fault. It’s just…I couldn’t help but only think about Sunwoo while Hyunjae was busy talking. It’s as if no matter how hard I try Sunwoo would always be at the back of my mind and it’s driving me insane.)

I roll my eyes when I feel my phone vibrating in my bag, I let it ring as I was in no mood to talk with anyone.

Looking up from the ground, my eyes sparkle when I see an ice cream shop. I start walking towards it when my phone starts vibrating again.

I sigh as I open my bag to take a look at the caller ID but what I did not expect was the caller ID flashing on the screen.

‘Why the hell is Sunwoo calling me?’ I think as I slowly accept the call while walking towards the shop.

“Is this Y/N?” I stop walking when I hear an unknown voice on the other side. I couldn’t help but think the worst.

Did Sunwoo get himself in trouble? Did he hurt himself? Is he okay?

“Yes, that's her..” I replied. I could hear Sunwoo’s voice at a distance but it seemed to be coming out slurred. I couldn’t help but furrow my eyebrows together in confusion.

“I am sorry but I think your boyfriend is drunk…” I slap my hand against my forehead when I hear that but immediately feel my cheeks heat up when I hear the word boyfriend.

“Where is he right now?” I ask shyly as I immediately call a taxi to go over at the location the person told me.

-x-

Why the hell is this guy drinking alone at night and that too in a PARK? Did he for real lose it or is he close to losing it?

I quicken my pace when I see Sunwoo sitting on a bench with a guy trying to keep him straight and awake so that he doesn’t fall asleep in the park.

I approach them as I take over Sunwoo and apologise to the man and grab Sunwoo cheeks which were a slight shade of pink.

I sit beside him on the bench and slap his cheeks a few times to help him gain some consciousness.

I giggle when he blinks his eyes a few times and stares at me for a second before he brings his hands up as he drags his fingers over my lower lips.

I push his hand away slightly as I mumble softly, “You’re not sober. So, you’re not allowed to touch me.”

A small stupid smile creeps up on Sunwoo’s face as he brings his hand back to himself as he rubs his eyes while speaking, “So am I allowed to touch you when I am sober?” He mumbles before staring back at you.

“If I say yes will you shut up?” I mumble as my eyes trail down to his swollen lips for a second before I glance back at his eyes again.

I smile when he gives a gentle nod, standing up I extend my hand out towards him to help him stand up, “I am only saying yes because I know you will forget all about this in the morning.” I mumble as I drag him towards the cab which was waiting for us.

“Do you really think so?” He slurs out the words while getting in the car, “Ack!” He yelps in pain when his head bangs against the roof of the car.

I immediately lean forward and take a look at his forehead. My eyebrows furrow in worry when it starts to swell but all Sunwoo does is laugh at the drunken guy he saw outside (who was busy puking by the way.)

-x-

I enter the house with Sunwoo as I drag him towards his bed. Okay, all I had to do was throw him on his bed, put a warm blanket over him and wash his face with a wet towel.

I can do that without thinking about the past, right? Of course I can!

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Sunwoo POV

I groan in pain when I feel my head throbbing. Maybe drinking till late at night was a bad idea but how did I even get home? I don’t think I went to drink with any of my friends.

Grabbing the glass of water from the bedside table, I drink some of it when my attention drifts to my arm. I see some messy writing on it.

Getting curious, I place the glass down and take a closer look at my arm after blinking a few times to get rid of the blurriness.

‘She says I could touch her when I am sober.’ She? Who’s she…

I close my eyes as I try to think back to the moments which took place yesterday.

“No fucking way…” I gasp as I recall the conversations me and Y/N had. Nooo this is so embarrassing. She saw me being a drunk idiot.

I place my head in my pillow and scream in it as I try my best to hide my whole existence. Why can’t the world just swallow me right now?

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Entering the auditorium I see Y/N with that Hyunjae guy again. Gosh…he looks so boring. What did she even see in him?

I scowl as I take a seat right behind them because someone decided it would be a great idea to sit behind my ex who was not really my ex because we never officially dated BUT we did kiss and make out a couple of times but let’s not talk about that.

I kick Eric’s leg when he strikes up a conversation with Hyunjae. He was my sworn enemy! How could he just talk with that boring ass? Gosh this kid really needs to level his taste up when it comes to talking with just anyone.

The whole time the lecture was going on not once did I stop burning holes in the back of Y/N’s head.

I could tell she wanted to look back at me by turning around but maybe I was just looking too handsome that she didn’t even want to take a look at me.

Heaving out a sigh I stood up once the lecture was over.

“I think we should talk…” I stop dead in my tracks when I hear her voice. No fucking way is she talking with me?

I gulp as I look at her for a moment before I immediately look down at the books in my hands.

I hand the books to Eric without any second thoughts as I follow you to the back of the auditorium.

I sit down on the floor as you follow behind and do the same. I couldn’t believe that after so long we’re finally talking again but I could feel my heartbeat rising more as you stretched the already tense moment.

“What’s up?” I mumble out as I try not to make it sound awkward even though the way I spoke already gave away the fact that it was more than just awkward silence.

I cover my face with my eyes as I wait for you to start speaking again, “So…about that night.” I hear your voice speak from beside me.

I slowly bring my hands down as I take a small peek at you, “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No no you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I was just nervous…I was scared I would do something wrong and embarrass myself.” I just stare at you as you explain yourself.

“I am sorry…I am sorry that I didn’t even give you the chance to explain yourself. I hate to admit it but I was scared to listen to your explanation.” I say softly as I take your hand in mine.

I smile when I hear your small giggle. Oh how I missed making you laugh…

“So what do you think about Hyunaje?” I furrow my eyebrows when you ask me that question. Were you really pulling my leg?

“Hyunjae? I hate that guy. Who does he think he is?” I mumble as I scoff in irritation.

I stare at you again when you laugh at my answer. You were really enjoying this, no? “What if I go on another date with him?”

It feels as if my eyes almost bulge out when you ask that question. “Date? I dare you. I will come and burn everything that is there and take you away from there.” I mumble as I kiss the back of your hand while our fingers are still intertwined.

“Aww you’re such a jealous baby.” I scoff and roll my eyes and mumble out a small ‘I am not jealous’ when even I know it’s not the truth.

“I am kidding. I hope we can give our relationship another chance?” My eyes light up when you finally say the words I wanted to hear.

“I swear I won’t mess up this time.” I say quietly as I kiss the crown of your forehead and give a peck on your cheeks.

“So what did you feel like when you used to see Hyunjae and me together?” I just stare at you silently when you ask that question.

You really were having fun teasing me. I get up and walk out of the room with you following behind while laughing at my jealous ass.

I stop on my tracks when I see hyunjae being buddies with Eric. I couldn’t help the disgusted face taking over my facial features as I stared at that guy doing some stupid handshake with Eric.

“I cannot believe you’re jealous over Eric and Hyunjae now.” I side eye you when you say that and flick your forehead once before walking away with you yelling my name out.

“Geez I am sorry!” I yell loudly when you suddenly come in front of me and kiss me on the lips.

I smiled in between the kiss when I noticed you going on your tiptoes just to kiss me. I slowly lean down so that it’s easier for you to kiss me.

Giggling I look at you when you pull away, your cheeks slowly turning hues of red as mine does the same. “Maybe I am a jealous guy after all.” I mumble as I hug you tightly.

Too @from-izzy : happiest birthday to my flower, my honey bee, the Sunwoo to my Chanhee <3 it’s been like almost a year since we knew each other??? Can you believe it 😭. We got so close so quickly that it’s crazy. Me calling you while walking back home and giving you a tour as I yap and you just sitting there and listening to me might be one of the best things we do 😼. Thank you for always being there for me when I needed to talk with someone the most 💗. You might be the only mutual who knows the most about me and it’s kind of crazy how our first conversation started with me flirting with you but I guess that’s my charm lol. Will always listen to you deny your feelings for Sunwoo but it’s okay since it’s you. Honestly I’d do anything to never lose our friendship which we built over the year and it’s just so pretty. Anyways, I’d never come to Australia since it’s pretty scary there but you’re always welcome to come to India 🥰. With that being said, I hope we always continue bickering, nagging each other over things and what not. And no, I will never stop sending you hot pics of Sunwoo 🧍‍♀️. With that being said, happy birthday to you my flower and I hope you like this little something I prepared. I swear I will try my best to publish watch it in October if it doesn’t come out in September (I really don’t think it will ever come out tho…) 🥰. I do hope you understand the small references I added in here bitch 👹. Was honestly so hard keeping this a secret :( Love you and have a great day (and years ahead) (plz stop overworking and stressing yourself out too much and start sleeping on time…)

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ohmyamor · 1 year ago

Text

ateez as college bfs during finals

it's my finals week and head hurty but crazy form good hnngjdnjgnjdf

hongjoong

will help you study but only if you bribe him a little

it's not that he wants to see you fail

he definitely does not want that

but at the same time

you would most likely do just fine studying on your own

he has a sneaking suspicion you just want to bother him

it's not until you bring out the "I'll do whatever you want for the next two weeks" that he's quick to agree

would he use this promise to his advantage? absolutely

hongjoong would help you study but then once you pass (you'd definitely pass with his help), he'd be quick to make you buy him food or pass him the blanket that is literal inches away from him

if you want to pass, you could also guilt trip him into helping you study by saying you'll just go to your TA

who's a man..

your same age...

hongjoong is real quick to whip out the flash cards after that

unless you give him a hard time, then he'll personally take you to the TA's room himself

7/10- would help you study but is all the work he would make you do after worth it?

debatable

seonghwa

absolute king

would drop everything to help you in the blink of an eye

he's got the studying playlists on youtube

anything you want to listen to, he's got it

lofi? yup. asmr? check. dark academia aesthetic? absolutely

color coded notes, flashcards, practice quizzes up and running

can seem a bit overwhelming at first but seonghwa gives me the vibes that he would just know you so well

and therefore he would know what type of studying or work environment you thrive in

and you're his baby, he wants to see you succeed :((

if you ever get frustrated or overwhelmed, seonghwa would 100% have your favorite drink and snack ready

some coffee to stay awake? whatever u need, some tea to relax? bet, he's got the honey and everything

your number 1 hype man frfr

10/10 need him in my life

yunho

honestly, also really good to have around during finals

strikes me as the type of bf to kind of sit with you and also silently work alongside you so you don't feel lonely

does that thing when you're writing a paper or smth and you look up to think of the word you want to use and the two of you make eye contact and he'll send you a wink and a big smile

little motivations yaknow

would also definitely use the pomodoro method

has a timer on his phone for every 45 minutes and when the time is up he'll gently shut your computer and grab your hands and just chat

would be the best person to bounce ideas of off

"yuyu, should I say this or this?"

and he would give genuine feedback

if you need help studying for an exam, yunho might not know all the answers but you can bet he would be right there with you watching videos of people working out the problems

gives you little high fives when you both get it

9/10 might get occasionally distracted by his beautiful blinding smiles but honestly a pretty solid study partner

yeosang

mans is just there to vibe and honestly same

i dont wanna say he has absolutely no clue what's going on

because he does listen to you and he does pay attention when you talk about your classes

but at the same time, he doesn't really give me the vibes he would be as great at studying as some of the others

more there for moral and emotional support than anything

might feel bad he can't be of more help so he tries his best to listen to your lectures if you're at home, but man, it sounds like a different language somebody save him

would definitely make sure you're eating and resting well though

"sweetheart I think it's time to take a break"

"yeosang I just need to finish a few more problems :("

"you can do it after you eat something, it'll be easier to finish with a clear head and a full tummy"

crying screaming throwing up

would otherwise leave you to your devices tbh

doesn't want to distract you but also doesn't want you to be completely alone in case you forget to take care of yourself

8/10 man is doing his absolute best and we love him for it

san

honestly this could go one of two ways

he could either be the most serious, hella studious mf you've ever met

or he could be the most unserious, menacing bitch you've ever met

it all depends on his mood

serious san is in the mf ZONE

he's got the glasses on, he has his notes out, comfy sweater and gray sweats ON

ready to give you a mom look every time you get distracted

at one point you'd probably try to play footsies with him and he just kinda stares at you over the top of his glasses with one eyebrow raised and you just slowly return your gaze to your work

that being said

glasses ON, sweats ON, absolute fucking menace

teasing you fs

maybe not even like in a sexual manner, just tickling you and cracking stupid jokes because he wants your attention

WILL kiss your neck and tell you "you're so smart baby, you're going to pass no matter what"

your will power needs to be better than the lords because LORD

what san wants, san gets that's all imma say

5/10 you don't know what you're gonna get and it's scary

mingi

im tired of the mingi is dumb allegations

mans is smart as hell, not only in math but also the amount of lyrics and songs he helps to produce??

studious mingi is one hell of a study partner

it might be a little bit of a learning curve at first, especially if you're the type of person to want to chat or bounce your ideas off of someone while you're working

mingi gives me the vibes that he would be dead serious and focused while working

so it might be a little intimidating at first

you look up to ask a question and he's sitting there, eyebrows furrowed and fingers flying across the keyboard

and you're like damn i don't want to disturb him so you swallow your question and move your eyes back to your work

but mingi is also very observant, so he definitely notices that

"what's up baby?"

"mmmm nothing" you mumble, trying to figure out this particular problem

he'll shut his laptop off and scoot closer to you

wordlessly helps you figure out whatever it is you're working on before giving you a small kiss to your forehead and moving on

8/10 he can be the stem major to my humanities major

wooyoung

let's be fr, not the best study partner you could ask for

love wooyoung with all my heart but mans gets distracted easy as hell

has probably tried the pomodoro method but it just doesn't work for him

sitting for longer periods of times just makes him antsy yk

i get the feeling he'd be the type of person to get one of those moving desks that goes up and down and then puts a treadmill or smth under it because he needs to be moving or else he'll get very distracted

do NOT take this man to a cafe to work, he will do everything but study

especially with the people watching

"babe look at that guy over there, his shoelace is untied"

"that girl's shirt tag is sticking out, should I say something"

"the barista spilled that woman's drink"

if you're okay with background noise, it probably wouldn't be too bad....

until he starts wanting attention and now he's playing footsies with YOU

"woo, babe, I really need to finish this, it's due tomorrow"

"so you don't love me is what you're saying"

and now two hours have passed and you only have half of an assignment done

will buy you food and/or coffee to make up for it

"sorry for distracting you, you don't need a degree, your ass is great"

3/10

jongho

scary

scary studying man

has everything organized to a T, do NOT touch his notes unless you're okay with dealing with the 3 days of silent treatment afterwards

im jk

maybe...

no but fr, jongho takes studying seriously

if you ask him for help, he would probably be the best bet besides seonghwa or yunho

but this shit is like boot camp, okay? so be prepared

no fooling around on jongho's watch

you want to pass, guess what baby, you're gonna PASS

does that thing where if you're not getting something, he might not explain it to you, just re-asks the question louder

"what's 3 + 4?"

"6"

*sighs* "WHAT'S 3 + 4?!"

or might just stare at you blankly when you try to joke around

mans acts like he's training future CIA members or something

once you do finish studying he's back to regularly scheduled bear bf but studying??

only for the strongest soldiers

6/10

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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padfootdaredmetoo · 1 year ago

Note

Hi lovely! Hope you’re doing well. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you’d be open to do a Tangerine smut where he realizes how much effect he has on reader (like with using pet names and stares and stuff) and he decides to make use of that?? Idek if you like something like that so if you wanna adjust pls feel free! Thanks so much💗

Heyo,

Thank you for this request, it's honestly been on my mind FOREVER. This is a mess with poorly written conflict and plot, but hopefully, I make up for it with spice. Thank you for sending this in and for being so patient with me, love. Enjoy!

Warnings: BIG dom/sub vibes, shooting, guns, violence, bad plot, smutty smut, established relationship, anxiety, mentions of the reader having a rough childhood, fingering, fucking, idk all the spice I guess, very supportive partner? good aftercare, very loving

So far vacation was an excellent idea. Lemon was occupied, flirting with anyone he could manage leaving him the space to fully enjoy the lovely lady pressed to his side. The relentless tropical heat placed you in various soft summer dresses. He watched you sip on your drink, providing commentary on Lemon’s interactions across the bar.

He was only half listening, recognizing that your tone was relaxed and happy. His shoulders relaxed, a feeling he found strange. He and Lemon were out. That life was long gone behind them. The past few months were strange in their predictability and slow pace. There was something else though, in the pit of his stomach. Something told him the other shoe would drop eventually.

There was only so much he could handle before he wanted that dress discarded on their bedroom floor. He pulled you up and enjoyed the flash of electricity that sparked in your eyes. Your red lips curved into a grin and he regretted the decision to go for drinks so far away from the hotel.

You leaned into his side as his arm came around your shoulders, Tan hoped that he wouldn't have to live a day without that feeling.

You both enjoyed the warm air as you walked along the boardwalk. His eyes fluttered around, checking every shadowed corner, every vantage point. He knew that he might relax a little, but some things would stay with him forever.

He could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise up before he heard the shot fire. He pulled you behind a closed kiosk. It was quiet except for the ringing in his ears. He looked across the street to an empty warehouse. Pulling you along he made a run for it, putting you in front of him.

Once inside he rounded the corner and heard a familiar voice yell out “GET DOWN.” He was distracted by the immediate rage he felt that Ladybug was here. Causing trouble and now giving him orders. Piece of shit. He didn't realize that you had immediately ducked down behind a large metal barrel instead of following him to the shipping container.

He could see your face in the shadows. Your eyes were wide and your hands were shaking. Another round of gunfire exploded from the entry.

There was a horrible bird call that made Tan smack his forehead despite feeling relieved that Lemon was there. He hoped, for your sake, that Ladybug would be siding with them in whatever mess this was. Then, when it was over, he would kill him slowly for dragging you into this.

His eyes only strayed away from your face to survey the space around you. That barrel was going to give away eventually and he needed to tell you to run across when they reloaded. Stuff like this never needed to be spoken with Lemon, but you had clearly never been in a spot like this.

Using his hands he tried to explain what to do. You mimed it back to him the best you could and he gave you a thumbs up. He held his hand up telling you to stay in place as the bullets cut through the space between the two of you. Your arms covered your head but thankfully you were tough enough to keep your eyes on him, focused on the goal.

The fire stopped and he took a breath motioning you to run across. He stepped out and provided cover. He could hear Lemon somewhere on the rafters also picking off the enemy. He could tell that Lemon had the advantage and he knew it would be over soon. He caught you in his arms and held you close. He guided you down to a crouched position. His hands ran across your body looking for the slightest bit of damage.

“Good girl.” He whispered breathlessly. Despite the chaos, he lived for the way your face changed. Your eyes got heavy, and you sucked in a breath. He knew you were in shock, probably not in your right mind, but he put his thumb on your bottom lip. His fingers brushed your neck, feeling your pulse hammering. He should stop, this was not the time or place to be distracted. But his confidence in his brother’s abilities awarded the darker parts of him a few more moments with you like this.

“You did so good for me.” His voice was thick with intention he was consumed by the way you went under for him. Being shot at in a foreign place tucked behind a storage bin, you clearly had too much faith in him. His other hand slid up the inside of your leg, just high enough to brush across the wetness that he wanted so badly. You closed your eyes and he heard Lemon’s victory cry. Reluctantly he helped you stand up.

“Finish this later” He mumbled righting himself. He hated himself for doing it, for enjoying it, when he should have been protecting you.

Ladybug told them a long-winded story about the mission he was on as he drove the large SUV away from the warehouse now consumed with flames. Tan knew that he brought those idiots here to where they were because Ladybug knew they would help him. Stupid fucking ididot.

“I’m sorry where are my manners -” Ladybug's eyes landed on you from the rearview mirror and Tan gave him a look. Apparently, it did its intended job as Ladybug gave him a respectful nod and made no reference to you for the rest of the drive.

The night became longer and longer. They packed up their hotel room and Ladybug got them onto a private flight. The getaway was smooth, and they were comfortable all things considered. Tan was obsessed with you, unable to understand your behavior. You didn't lean into him, you clung to him. He thought about everything he knew about you as they got carted from plane to plane - then from car to car. He felt he had surely made the top three traumatic events in your life.

He would get you somewhere safe enough to snap out of whatever haze you were in. You would rightfully lose it at him and he would return you home and pay for some extra security on your apartment.

You didn't want to talk, you just drifted in and out of sleep holding onto his arm. He was thankful that Ladybug ignored your existence while still handing Tan blankets and a hoodie for you.

Eventually, they ended up at a safe house they had in Norway. He carried you into the cabin, noting that he would need to get you some new clothes tomorrow. The place was freezing having been abandoned.

Tan sat you on the edge of the bed and stepped back out into the hallway to see what Lemon needed from him. Without looking up from the laptop on the center island of the kitchen, Lemon just pointed back to the bedroom. Tan was relieved, and let Lemon do the setup.

Unsure of how to start the conversation he shut the door and sat on the bed next to you. You tucked your knees to your chest and wrapped the many blankets around yourself.

“So, well. Erm - bit of a mess back there huh?” He hated himself even more for his inability to do the right thing.

“That was a lot. Sorry, I’m not really prepared for this type of stuff. I don't know how to push it down like you guys.” You said with chattering teeth. Your words ran through his mind a few times.

“Your apologizing?” He was suddenly angry, he would never be able to fully understand how badly your parents had messed you up.

“Yeah, I was kinda useless. No gun, but also not a lot of training either - not to mention I sort of just shut down after.” You shrugged. “Sorry, I couldn't bring more to the team.”

He wanted to shake you and shout. Tell you to be angry, show you how. Instead, he remembered the last time he shouted at you and how much pain it caused you.

Instead, he grabbed your shoulders. “Sweetheart. Baby.” He said calmly. “You should be very angry at us.”

He watched you slip away again and he wanted to punch the wall.

“I put you in a lot of danger.” He watched you focus on his lips, eyes heavy. He considered derailing this conversation entirely but knew how important it was that you understood.

“I didn't mind.” You mumbled airly. He let out a sigh, swearing under his breath.

“Baby, you should mind.” He said seriously. “Look -”

“Tan, you kept me safe.” You whispered back. “This is the best thing I have. I don't mind if it’s dangerous.”

“You should - You-”

“Please” You pleaded with him in a wet voice.

“What?” He asked caught off guard.

“Just - not tonight. I want you to -” You couldn’t find the words and nodded at him like he would figure it out. “Just do the thing,” You said finally.

“What thing babygirl?” He gave up and decided he would punish himself for it later. “You tell me what you want, baby.” His tone of voice was enough to send you into the haze.

“I don’t know, just want you.” You said in a small voice and he finally kissed you, eating up the moans that escaped your lips. You were dangerously submissive. Something he wanted to handle delicately but struggled with as you would beg him for more.

He slowly got you out of your clothes, not wanting to push you. You laid back on the bed looking almost pained by experience. He brought his hand out to rest on top of your chest. He felt your chest sink as a large sigh escaped you.

“So beautiful” His words painted a thick blush across your face that ran down your neck.

“Did so good for me today.” He praised you and you looked possessed as you bathed in his words. “Such a good girl.”

It was even more evident how badly neglected you must have been as a child. Anger swelled in his chest before he reminded himself that he might as well shower you in it now. That's what you wanted.

His hand ran slowly down your chest. His hand cupped your breast and he slowly encircled your nipple before giving it a light squeeze. He watched your patience wear thin at his slow pace. He was sure you would snap at him like you usually did. This time was different, fat tears swelled in your eyes and spilled over your cheeks.

“Baby what’s wrong.” He asked brushing the tears off your right cheek.

“Want you.” You choked. He didn't think it was humanly possible to be this vulnerable and open. Yet here you were, tied up in knots over how badly you wanted him.

He shushed you soothingly. It was impossible to deny you. He ran his hand down your stomach and finally to the place you needed him.

He gave you praise over every little moan and twitch, watching you fall apart. He got you to climax, thinking this would snap you out of it. Your chest was heaving and the dreadful tears were back.

“Please.” You gasped. He again, could not deny you, even if he wanted to.

“Be a good girl and wait for me.” He said firmly removing his hands to take off his clothes. You lay there on your back, legs still wide apart, for the first time without shame. You always wanted to be under the sheets or hidden. He looked down at the wet mess between your legs, he felt pride in making you happy. This wasn't something he was taking from you, this was something he was giving you.

Once coming to terms with this being about you, his hesitation left him. He knelt between your shaking legs, enjoying the way his fingers slid through your folds with ease. How his two fingers slid inside you with no resistance. Your body was truly desperate for him.

You moaned and contracted tightly around his fingers.

“Good girl, squeezing me so tight.” You let out a ragged breath in response. He wanted to stuff his cock as deep as you could manage, but he was enjoying the way you unraveled for him too much.

He pushed the length of his cock through your folds enjoying the way your hips bucked wildly as the head of his cock brushed your clit.

“Fuck” He breathed. “So good for me baby.”

He circled your entrance again with the tips of his fingers. “Gonna put it right here, baby.” He watched you squirm with impatience but pushed you further. “That what you want?” The pushed his fingers in slowly. “Want my cock right here.”

Your walls contracted around his fingers again as you let out a moan.

“Please.” You begged.

“Please what? Use your words. Be good for me.” He chuckled as you tightened around him again.

“Please let me have your cock, there - please.” The words were a struggle for you as his fingertips rubbed against the sensitive spot.

“Good girl.” He removed his fingers and with much control, he pressed the now slightly purple head of his cock against your entrance. The wet heat was unbearable, he took a deep breath and as slowly as he could manage pushed into the spongey tightness. You choked out a sob that was jarring to him. He stopped and watched you try to buck your hips up. His hands came down on your hips pressing the down into the soft bed.

“No,” He said firmly. Your face twisted up with impatience. You relaxed then he pushed inside slightly further. Your back arched and he stayed at that depth, slowly moving in and out. Even with your hips being still, your hot walls tried to pull him in further.

He had never understood it. Never had any reason to pursue it. If anything, he thought it was weird. When the words fell from your lips with such reckless abandon, all his self-control snapped.

“Dady”

He left no time for embarrassment to worm its way in. He was now consumed with desperation. He pushed into feeling himself stretch you out fully. Your cervix crowned the head of his cock and he retreated, only to press into you hard and fast.

Your mind and body broke down around him. Nothing made sense anymore, no time, no problems. Just you all around him.

You came, coming down around him tight enough to push him out. This only made him hold you down harder wanting to be in you fully when he found his own release.

“You going to cum again like that for me baby?” You let out a strangled noise and he pushed further. “I want you to cum nice and hard for me, help me off, baby.”

He felt your body start to fill with tension.

“Help me cum” Your body started to get tight, this time he held you down. “Just like that, good girl.” He grunted. Your body swallowed him down before constricting around him. Your body choked around with enough pressure to force him to release. It hit him like a truck, staying still as your body pulled his seed from him. After what felt like an eternity of breathlessness and pulsing he collapsed and tried his best not to crush you.

He felt your arms settle around his neck. Your fingers running through his hair.

“I don't know what that was. I don't know why I liked it. But I did.” You said firmly and he let out a chuckle.

“Did I get you back then?”

“I’m here.” You said.

“You mad about everything?” he asked, happy to be able to talk to you with a clear mind.

“I feel a lot of things right now, mad isn't one of them.” You whispered giving his hair a slight pull.

He enjoyed how you didn't protest him when he tried to look after you. You were always so eager to show that you were independent, so certain he would punish you for anything less.

Now you were letting him wash your hair. Your muscles relaxed as his hands ran over you with soap.

Once dried off you curled up against his side and fell asleep. No nightmares, just sound asleep at his side.

It was almost enough to make him feel like this was meant to be.

The time he shouted at her

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