#my current one is starting to run out of room

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

No One Here Is Alone

Elks Chapter 2

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: Two evenings spent painting, two evenings with Joel Miller cooking dinner for you, two evenings of him gazing at you in that certain way, and one walk home together under a shared umbrella. Chapter Warnings: FIX IT FIC ALERT, pov switching (joel is in bold), soft jackson joel, romance, rumors still spread in the apocalypse, domestic joel miller making dinner, thigh paint, knee pillow, interrupted tender moment, cat on window sill, there was only one umbrella, early 2000’s indie rock, reader has a backstory Words: 6,800

A/N: I'm so happy to be sharing this story again. My fanfic journey started with these two and I'm happy to be adding so much more to their story. Listen, IDK what you're expecting, but this Joel is soft and this whole fic is written like one big, comforting hug. If you're reading it, please line up for your hug. (I am a cold, Scottish lass who does not like touch sooooo if you get a hug from me, you've earned it.) Thank you to @devineconjuring for all of her brilliant beta work.

Elks Masterlist Masterlist Playlist Chapter Song: “Infinite Arms" by Band of Horses

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Joel feels a strange feeling as he straightens up his workshop. He made sure to hide the carving he’s currently working on in the cabinet, as if anybody could even tell what the final product will be. Still, Joel Miller believes in caution.

He brushes his calloused hand across the workbench, sweeping wood shavings to the floor. He still sometimes forgets to grab the dustpan when he sweeps the floor–he still can’t believe he owns one in the apocalypse.

Just last year, he would’ve scoffed at the idea of having a workshop, of creating rather than surviving. Back then, his hands were tools for different work. Weapons. Means to an end. Now, they shape wood into delicate sculptures, finding beauty from a blank canvas.

He grabs the broom and dustpan out of the closet, sweeping up the pile of wood shavings and dust, trying to make the room perfect for you. He dumps the shavings into a small metal bin–they’ll later be used as kindling.

He leans against the workbench, looking around the workshop Tommy helped him build and equip. He still isn’t used to it—this strange semblance of a normal life.

He hears the familiar slam of the front door and walks out of the room, broom and dustpan in hand, finding Ellie kicking her boots off.

“Hey,” she smiles, dropping her backpack to the floor and removing her jacket. “Heard you’ll have company tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “My teacher of all people!” she gasps.

“S’not like that,” Joel responds.

“Whatever,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes with a wide smile. “Then why is your hair slicked back like that? You never slick back your hair.”

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling oddly self-conscious under the teenager’s gaze. "Just… wanted a change.”

"Sure. And I suppose you just felt like sweeping your workshop on a random Monday afternoon?”

Joel lets out a heavy sigh and makes his way to the kitchen. “Pick up your jacket and backpack.”

“Eh, I’m heading to Dina’s soon; I’ll grab them on the way out.”

He pauses mid-stride, turning back to face her. “You didn’t ask if you could go to Dina’s.”

“Nope, but I also don’t think you want my watchful eyes around while Teach is here.”

She’s got a point, and Joel knows it. There's no way he can afford to give Ellie any more reasons to make fun of him, especially not today.

—-

It's a beautiful Monday evening, a light breeze rolling off the mountains as the sun sets behind it. Joel’s house looks like it’s glowing under the aureate sky as you make your way up the path. You’re getting around much better now since your knees have started healing.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself before giving Joel’s front door three quick knocks. You clutch your messenger bag tightly, nervously bouncing back and forth on your heels.

The door swings open, revealing Joel with a warm smile. “Hi, come on in.”

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your smile under control.

"Let me show you the room."

Joel leads you into his home to a makeshift studio just off the living room. The space takes your breath away–it’s filled with an array of finished woodworkings, half-carved animals, shelves of tools, and a long worktable. You'd never expect it, but Joel is an artist.

It’s so open and warm, lived in and utilized. You're happy places like this can still exist in other people's homes. 

The sight of a few guitars leaning against the wall surprises you.

“You play guitar?” you ask.

He nods. “Been playing almost my whole life. You?”

“Same, but my guitar broke a few weeks ago,” you say with a hint of sadness. “There’s a big hole in the side now.”

“That’s rough. Your stereo and your guitar?”

It surprises you a bit that Joel’s remembered about your stereo.

“Afraid so,” you admit. “It’s very quiet in my home.”

“Those guitars over there are broken, but I just haven’t gotten around to fixing ‘em. I’m sure I could easily repair one for you,” he offers.

“Joel, you—that’s incredibly kind,” you reply, touched but hesitant. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“No, s’okay, I like fixing things,” he insists with a reassuring smile. 

“Wish I could fix things,” you say with a nervous chuckle. “By the time I would be done, it’d be a pile of sawdust.”

A huff of air releases out of Joel’s mouth, his smile making a dimple you’ve never noticed before appear. God, he’s gorgeous. “You’re funny. I can see why Ellie likes you.”

Heat creeps up your chest and settles into your cheeks. The way he looks at you overwhelms you so much you have to glance away. “So, Where would you like me to draw the mural?” you ask, using your question to cut through the nervousness inside you. 

“Was thinking over on this wall with the window. I can see it from my chair in the living room.” 

You turn to examine the large, empty wall. You’re not sure if the cream hue is the original paint color or if it was colored that way from age. Either way, it’s a perfect canvas.

“Good choice,” you say. “Do you want the whole wall?”

“The whole wall.”

“Just bluebells?” you clarify.

“Just bluebells.”

“Perfect.”

You pull the pencil from the chest pocket of your overalls, gently pressing it against the wall to sketch out the first bluebell. You can feel his eyes on you, his large body crowding the space behind you. You try to focus on your drawing, blocking out the sound of his breathing and the heat of his closeness.

Joel clears his throat. “I’ll just be in the kitchen making dinner. Did ya’ eat?”

“No,” you reply, glancing back at him. “But I can eat after I’m done here.”

“Have more than enough here for another person, and Ellie’s at Dina’s tonight. You like pasta?”

“Of course I do,” you say with a smile. “I’d starve if I didn’t. Shelf stable.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ll be in the kitchen cooking. Just holler if you need anything. Help yourself to any of the supplies I have here.”

You nod as Joel turns and strides down the hall.

—-

You’re just down the hall, clad in light blue overalls covered in paint stains. All he has to do is take the twelve small steps to the room, and he’d get to see your pretty face.

He makes himself focus, busying himself in the kitchen, stirring the boiling pasta so he doesn’t just stand silently in the hallway trying to hear the scratch of your pencil against the wall or the occasional approving “yes” under your breath when you’re happy with a line. It’s oddly comforting, having someone else fill the empty spaces of his home.

Boston never felt like a home, no matter the poorly realized strong feelings he had for Tess. It’s hard to make a home out of a dilapidated apartment where his lumpy mattress rested on cinderblocks.

Cooking in a large kitchen–with full cupboards and a fridge–still feels like he’s playing pretend. But he’s trying to get used to it. For Ellie… and maybe for himself.

He can just make out the soft sound of your humming. He doesn't recognize the tune, but it makes him smile nonetheless. He catches himself and straightens his face, feeling foolish.

Dinner will be ready soon, an idea lighting in his mind as he cuts two slices of bread from the loaf he just picked up this morning from the co-op.

—-

“What a beautiful face, I have found in this place, That is circling all ‘round the sun, What a beautiful dream...”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you hear the familiar strum of a guitar, breaking the silence that had settled in the room while you quietly sketched. For the last hour, the only noises were Joel’s movements in the kitchen and the soft sound of your pencil against the wall.

Now, his home is filled with the sound of the first song off of your mixed CD you had left there. Despite being all alone in his studio, you can’t help but grin. You tuck your pencil behind your ear and head to the kitchen.

You almost stop in your tracks at the sight–Joel’s biceps stretch the sleeves of his gray shirt as he lifts the pot and drains the cooked pasta. The steam floats into the air, swirling around him, creating an almost dreamlike scene of domestic bliss. You blink a few times, reaching for your daisy pendant to center yourself, helping yourself realize that this is, in fact, really happening.

It’s almost as if he senses your presence, turning his head to find you resting against the kitchen doorway.

“Neutral Milk Hotel,” you say.

“S’a pretty good song,” he replies, turning, his gaze landing on your pendant. 

“From my CD?” you ask.

“It is.”

“Thanks for playing it,” you smile. “It’s nice to hear it again.”

“Course. When’d your player break?”

“A while ago. I lived without a stereo for close to fifteen years. My CDs sat in a crate next to my bed all those years. I got used to them existing almost like photographs, circular snapshots of memories… silent and incapable of their original use,” you say, your voice trailing off as you remember. “When I got here and walked into my house, the first thing I saw was the small boombox on the shelf. I almost passed out when Maria told me it worked.” Joel stands there, spoon in hand, his eyes fixed on you, not impatient, not bored, but rather a tender fascination as you speak. “It had to be repaired a few times, and Gordon kept warning me that it wasn’t built to last. Took it to him the day after it broke for good, and he let me know nothing could be done,” you sigh. “Sorry, I tend to ramble.”

You can feel the embarrassment creeping up your neck, but Joel just shakes his head.

"Don't apologize," he says gently. "I understand what it's like to lose something that connects you to… before."

“Thanks. I still have other things to fill my time, so it’s not as bad as I’m making it seem. I know it’s a luxury, and I know I can live without it. It’s just… the noise kept me company, you know?” 

“I do,” he responds, tilting his head towards the table. “Dinner’s about ready.”

You sit down at his table by the window, the glow of the sunset streaming through, casting a soft light over everything. Coffee rings cover Joel’s wooden tabletop, a sign he probably never cleans up his mug until after he’s home in the evening. It feels so comfortable and warm here.

His back is turned as he dishes the pasta and sauce into two bowls, allowing you to take him in. You let yourself stare, memorizing the broadness of his shoulders and the bits of curly hair on the back of his neck. There's something so beautifully mundane about watching him move through his kitchen. 

"Thank you," you say as he places one in front of you. "It smells amazing."

"Just pasta," he shrugs, sitting across from you.

“This looks delicious,” you say, picking up your fork.

“Sauce was made by Maria. She takes pity on my kitchen skills and makes sure Ellie and I are well-fed.” 

“She’s great,” you say through a bite. “So is Tommy.”

He nods in agreement, watching you intently as if he’s captivated by your presence. You’d be doing the same if you weren’t so nervous about him noticing. You sense Joel doesn’t care if you notice him watching.

You both settle into a shared silence while you eat, your CD playing in the background.

A slow and haunting song begins to play, and Joel looks up from his meal. “This is my favorite song on your CD.”

“Cheer up, honey. I hope you can, There is something wrong with me, My mind is filled with silvery stars.”

“‘Radio Cure’ by Wilco,” you say. “One of my favorite bands. My only CD of theirs is so scratched it no longer works. This is the only song I have now.” 

You get lost in the music, leaning back and mouthing the lyrics silently. 

“S’beautiful,” he says softly as you open your eyes and find him watching you again. He clears his throat, “... the song’s beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his voice. So soft and deep. You wonder if he talks to anybody else this gently. 

“If you like it, keep my CD,” you offer. “You’ll get more use out of it than I will now.” 

“I’ll borrow it until you get a new CD player,” Joel says as he stands and takes his bowl to the sink. “You’re welcome to come over and listen anytime. You can bring your other CDs over if you want.”

“Really? I appreciate that,” your voice lifts with excitement.

“Glad to help.”

“I’m going to get back to drawing before it gets any darker,” you say, handing him your empty bowl. “I really enjoyed dinner, thank you.”

“‘Course,” he nods, taking the bowl from your hand and depositing it into the soapy water.

You return to the woodworking room, pick up your pencil, and continue delicately sketching flowers on his wall.

—-

Joel’s house is quiet again once your CD has finished playing. You’re too focused on drawing to really miss it.

“Did you want another light in here?” Joel’s voice startles you, making you jolt and turn to find him leaning against the doorway; you don’t know how long he’s been standing there. “S’getting dark in here.”

“Y-yeah, that would be great. I just want to finish up the first outline tonight.” 

Joel nods and heads over to the large cabinet in the corner, retrieving a work light.

“This’ll help,” he says, grunting slightly as he bends over and plugs it in.

The bright light floods the room; now, you can see every delicate line you’ve sketched across the wall.

“Thank you,” you say, blinking your eyes to adjust.

“It’s lookin’ really nice so far.” Joel’s voice dips low, barely audible.

You begin to sketch again, thankful for the extra light. “I love the process of beginning a large piece like this. It makes me so excited to think what it’ll look like when it’s all finished. Breaking it down into small steps, then seeing it all come together.”

“No wonder Ellie’s always so excited about art when you put it all that way.” 

You nod without looking back at him, trying to hide the smile playing on your lips.

“Well, I’ll just be in the living room reading my book. Lemme know if I can help,” he offers.

“Thanks.”

Joel’s footsteps fade as he walks into the living room. You hear him settle into his chair with a sigh. The chair he can sit in and look at your mural from, the chair he can sit in and watch you work from. Your insides twist as you feel like you’re being watched by him. You like it. 

You round each small petal, making every flower perfect for Joel’s eyes, the bluebells taking shape and spreading across the wall.

Sometimes, you hear a page turn, or an occasional sniff, or a throat clear. It feels odd to be this comfortable in Joel’s space. But, somehow, it feels familiar, the nerves dissipating with each bluebell you draw.

You step back from the wall, surveying the outline. You’re very happy with it.

“Okay,” you say, shaking out your overused hand and stretching your tired fingers. 

“Finished for the night?” Joel asks as he stands and steps into the room. “It’s beautiful,” he says, his eyes lingering on the wall.

“Thanks,” you reply, feeling a mix of pride and uncertainty. “There’s still a lot that has to be done, but I’m really happy with how it’s looking so far.” You back up to stand next to him, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. "When do you want me to come back?"

“I’ll be out on patrol with Tommy until Friday night. I know you have the library, but does Saturday work for you?”

“No, it’s okay, Saturday’s good. Same time?”

“Same time,” he confirms with a nod. “I’ll make dinner again.”

“You really don’t have to,” you reply, bending down to grab your bag.

“S’okay, I want to.” 

“Okay,” you reply, stifling a yawn and blinking your tired eyes. 

Joel notices and grins slightly, watching you. “Getting late for you, huh?” 

“Yeah, close to my bedtime,” you admit. 

He walks with you to his door and holds it open. "G’night. I'll see you on Saturday."

“Have a safe patrol,” you say as you step out the door, turning back to him with a small smile. “Goodnight.”

You feel Joel’s quiet, watchful gaze follow you as you leave his yard.  

You crawl into bed that night without bothering to change out of your shirt. It smells like Joel’s home.

—-

He looks up at the sky, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. He’s far too used to his comfortable mattress in his home now. Tommy’s already asleep, softly snoring across from him as the low campfire crackles between them. Joel shifts, tucking his arm beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. Sleep won’t come easy tonight.

The Pink Moon sits high in the sky tonight, surrounded by innumerable stars. He wonders if you're looking at it right now, too, or if you’re already asleep, dreaming of bluebells.

"Damn," he mutters under his breath, running a hand down his face. When did he start thinking about you like this? Was it when you walked into the community hall the first day he arrived in Jackson? Or when Ellie wouldn't stop talking about her new teacher?

It’s only been three days, and he actually feels like he misses you.

Tommy stirs for a second before settling back into slumber. Joel watches his brother sleep, reminding him of the years they spent together in a far harsher reality.

In a few months, Tommy will be a father. The thought still amazes him. His little brother, the one who always believed in a better existence, is building something Joel never thought possible in this world–a family and a future.

He turns over, staring up at the sky, as he thinks of the wall in his woodworking room, now covered in delicate bluebells you’ll soon paint and bring to life.

—-

“Hey lady,” your friend Helen greets you as she steps into your classroom, interrupting your paper grading. 

You look up and give her a smile. “What’s up?”

“A group of us are getting drinks tomorrow night at the Bison. You in?” 

“Oh,” you pause, putting your pen down. “I can’t. I’m painting something for Joel Miller at his house.” 

Her eyebrows rise. “Joel Miller, Joel Miller?” 

“Yeah…” you nod.

She steps closer, crossing her arms with a smirk. “So, the rumors are true?”

“Rumors?” you ask.

“Grace said she saw you leaving his place late Monday night. Apparently, Joel stood and watched you walk home the whole way.”

You roll your eyes. “God, this place is small, isn’t it?”

Helen laughs, her expression softening as she moves closer. “He nice to you?” Her protective side always shows when it comes to you. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this for him if he wasn’t.”

She nods. “Atta girl, I’ll leave you to it,” she knocks on your desk before leaving. You’ve heard all the rumors about Tommy Miller’s scary older brother. You’ve listened intently as people regaled tales of his violent past and whispered stories of his brutality. You heard the hush amongst the crowd whenever he’d walk into a room when he and Ellie first showed up. He’s supposedly a monster, and yet all you see are deep, soft brown eyes that crinkle at the corners whenever he smiles at you.

—-

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t exhausted after running the library today, and yet there’s still a sense of excitement as you walk down the road towards Joel’s house, shielding yourself and your box of paints beneath an umbrella.

Joel opens the door before you even get to the porch steps, his broad body backlit by the golden glow of his home.

"Hey there," he says with a small smile, stepping aside to let you in. "Nasty weather out there. Was lookin’ for you so you didn’t get stuck in the rain.”

You lose the fight to hide a smile at his sweetness. “Thanks, it’s awful out,” you reply, stepping inside and shrugging off your flannel. “How was patrol?” 

“Same as usual,” he remarks, taking your jacket and hanging it on the hook over his coat.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” you reply, already heading into his woodworking room and placing your paints on the floor.

Joel follows right behind you, watching as you kneel and begin unpacking your supplies.

“That your CD book?” Joel nods to the faded black leather portfolio with tattered corners covered in faded stickers. 

“Yeah, I brought it over.”

“Haven’t seen something like that in years. Can I look at ‘em?” “Go ahead,” you say with a warm smile, handing the album up to him. “Find something to play. It’s your stereo, after all. Don’t tell me what you pick. I want it to be a surprise.”

You love hearing the gentle, rhythmic thump of the pages as Joel flips through the album.

“Don’t recognize most of these names,” he murmurs. “What kind of music do you like?” you ask as you unroll your brush holder and pick out the brushes you’ll need.

“Rock, country… a little bit of blues.”

“Country? Really? How typical Texas of you,” you tease with a playful smile, raising an eyebrow. He chuckles. “Good country. Real country. Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, ’n the like.” “I stand corrected, Texas.”

He grunts in amusement while you begin laying out your paints on the countertop, carefully choosing your colors. 

“Found something,” Joel says.

“Can’t wait to hear what you pick,” you respond, pulling your palette out of your bag as he leaves the room with the unknown CD in hand.

A bluesy rock guitar intro with a steady drumbeat starts as you mix emerald and olive tones together.

“Haven’t heard this one in over 20 years,” Joel comments as he comes back into the room. “I always liked The Rolling Stones.” 

“Me too. I actually got this CD from your brother, believe it or not.”

Joel leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Tommy gave you that?"

"Yeah, last year. He brought it back from patrol. He figured I’d want it, and he was right. Maria and Tommy have both been great to me.”

Joel stands there watching you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Tommy's always had a good heart."

"It runs in the family," you mutter, regretting the words the moment they leave your lips. With a slight shake of your head, you look back down at your palette and dip your brush into the green paint, making a few strokes on the palette before turning to face the wall.

You kneel down on the hardwood floor and begin to trace the slim lines of stems across the wall. Your brush and body move slowly and smoothly in tandem, rising to finish each stem tip. Joel’s steady and attentive gaze follows you the whole time. 

“Never thought I’d see somebody paint like this again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s my favorite thing to do,” you say, your focus unwavering from the wall. 

“Can tell,” the gentleness of his voice causes a shiver down your spine. “M’excited to see how it’ll look when it’s done.”

“Me too.”

You hear Joel take a deep breath, and his footsteps shift. “I’m gonna go finish cleanin’ my guns,” he says with an exhale. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you respond, turning to look back at him with a smile. Suddenly, a large glob of green paint falls from the paintbrush in your hand, landing on your thigh. 

Joel’s eyes immediately drop to the spot, widening as you grab your rag and wipe the paint off.

He clears his throat, his cheeks starting to blush a subtle shade of red. “Uh, right. I’ll be in the dining room,” he repeats, turning quickly to stride away.

His hurried footsteps fade as they move into the next room– a small smile tugs at your lips, and a rush of excitement blooms within you. 

You dip your brush back into the paint again, steadying your breath, and begin painting a new stem. —-

Joel has cleaned this Winchester hundreds of times. He could practically do it with his eyes closed, yet tonight, his hands fumble with the bolt carrier.

He's spent twenty minutes on a five-minute job because he can’t stop thinking about you. The way your hands move across his wall, the confidence in your art, the slight furrow in your brow when you're concentrating, the beautiful green paint on your beautiful skin.

He sets down the cleaning rod with a soft sigh, his calloused fingers tapping against the wooden table. If he cranes his neck just right, he can see the edge of you through the doorway. The Rolling Stones still play quietly in the background, and Joel notices how your body sometimes sways slightly along to the song.

Five days on patrol shouldn't have felt so long. It was the same route he'd taken dozens of times with Tommy, the same checkpoints, the same abandoned buildings. But for the first time, he wanted to go back home. To Jackson. To you.

—-

The rain patters steadily against the windows as you work. It almost feels too comfortable being in Joel’s home, painting as the CD softly plays in the other room, the occasional clink of metal coming from down the hall.

"S'pretty dark in here. Do you want that work light again?” Joel asks, interrupting your focus. 

“Yes, please,” you reply, not taking your eyes off the delicate petal you’re working on.

Joel shuffles behind you, pulling the light out. You recognize the same low grunt that left his mouth earlier this week when he bends over to plug it in. The light buzzes on, flooding the room and your painting with a bright white glow.

“You been kneeling on the floor like that for long?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. 

“Yep, it’s not so bad while down here.”

“Ya’ still have the hurt knees, and you’re kneeling on the damn hardwood floor,” he mumbles under his breath as he leaves the room. 

You’ve gotten used to people not being concerned about such simple things as your personal comfort. Joel’s worry for you makes you feel a foreign feeling. 

He returns and holds a pillow out for you. “Here, grabbed ya’ this.”

“Oh, I’m okay, really,” you protest, “I don’t want to accidentally get paint on it.” 

“Don’t care, take it,” he insists.

You hesitate for a second before taking the pillow and slipping it underneath your already aching knees.

“Feels much better, thank you,” you say, settling back and forth on the softness. 

“Welcome.” 

A long sigh escapes his lips, catching your attention. You glance up and meet his eyes—the hazel flecks shine in the light supplied by the work lamp.

His tongue darts out to wet his supple lips, and your eyes move to watch. He reaches a hand out, his thumb resting against your cheek, his fingers gently cradling your chin. 

Your breath hitches, your lips parting as you inhale deeply, and a shiver runs through your entire body. The music from the stereo fades into the background; all that exists now in this moment is Joel’s touch. 

“Thank you again for doin’ this for me,” he says, his voice low and tender. “Been thinkin’ about how nice it’s gonna be to look over and see this once it’s finished… reminding me of home.”

“O-of course,” you stammer, your eyes still lingering on his mouth. 

“Mm,” he grunts, his head dipping with a slight nod. 

“L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L–” The music stutters, caught in a loop, cutting through the moment.

“Shit, I forgot this song always does that,” you say as Joel’s hand retreats from your cheek. 

“I got it,” he says, quickly striding out of the room. 

“You just have to skip to the next track, and it should work!” you call after him as your skin still tingles from where his hand had been moments ago, silently cursing your scratched CD.  

The track changes, the interruption long gone, just like Joel’s touch. You return to painting, calming your body and emotions in the aftermath. You exhale slowly, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest, grounding yourself back into the rhythm of painting. You don’t hear from him until well after the CD finishes and the house has fallen silent.

—-

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Joel says, tapping softly on the doorframe, snapping you out of your reverie as you paint. “You got a lot done—it’s lookin’ real good.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, surprised by how much time has passed. The shared moment between the two of you now feels long gone and distant.

“Thanks,” you respond. “I just want to finish up on this bluebell.”

“Take your time. Just come to the kitchen when you’re all done in here.” 

—-

He stares at the table, his hands resting against his hips. He doesn’t know why he wants to impress you. He’s never been one for setting a proper table, but tonight, he’s even folded the tattered cloth napkins.

There’s something about you–something that makes him feel like the world isn’t as broken as he knows it to be.

He watches the steam rise from the pot of soup he’s made, almost feeling nervous. He wants you to like it. He wants you to like him.

—-

You stand up, stretching your back to ease the stiffness, rinsing your brush in the jar of water before making your way down the hall to the kitchen. Your steps almost falter at the sight–Joel Miller sitting at his neatly set kitchen table. A soup spoon rests atop a folded napkin, a glass of water lined up next to it. He’s even taken the time to wipe up the coffee stains.

“Hope you like turkey and barley soup,” Joel says as you walk into the kitchen. 

“Any soup makes me happy,” you reply with a smile, taking a seat across from him.

“Good. This one I actually made; Maria didn’t have to take pity on me for this meal,” he says, a small grin lifting his lips.

The care he’s put into a simple dinner doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re touched. The soup looks delicious, steam rising from the ceramic bowl.

You take a bite, the warm soup sliding down your throat. Perfect for a chilly rainy evening, it’s good. “Joel, this is… really good.”

His eyes soften when he sends you a nod.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, with only the sound of your spoons clinking against the bowls. You should be nervous in this situation, but the way Joel handles himself in front of you–as if he’s perfectly comfortable with you in his home–makes your nerves settle.

"Thanks for dinner," you say, watching Joel finish his last spoonful. "It was exactly what I needed after painting for so long."

You place your spoon down and sit back in your chair. “What was your favorite food before… everything?”

He thinks for a moment. “Don’t really know. Maybe tamales? My mom used to make them every year for the holidays. I could eat six of them in one sitting.” 

“I loved tamales, too. You know, I just remembered margaritas. I used to always see people drink them when we’d go out to eat Mexican food, and I thought that looked so cool. I never got to try one.” 

He watches you with that familiar expression, as if he could listen to you talk for hours, nodding along with a small smile. “What was your favorite food?” he asks.

“Fettuccine Alfredo, one hundred percent. My mom used to make it for me every year for my birthday. If we went to an Italian restaurant, it’s what I’d always order. Definitely Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Never had it, always just stuck to pouring a jar of Ragu over spaghetti or a frozen lasagna,” he says, a small grin on his face. 

“I miss those too. And cheese. I miss being able to have cheese whenever I wanted so much. The stuff we have now just isn’t the same.”

“Mm,” Joel nods. “Kinda like the ice cream we have. Not the same, but good enough.”

“Isn’t that the motto of these times?” you say with a smirk. “Not the same, but good enough.”

“It’s a good one,” Joel pauses. “You’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling Joel’s eyes follow your movements as he gets up. 

You stand as well, grabbing your bowl to follow Joel over to the sink. He reaches for it, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes it from your hand. “You seem to be almost finished in there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I can finish tonight. I think there’s still a couple more hours of work left.” 

“Of course. I don’t want to keep you any longer tonight. I know you had a long day, and I know it’s a lot bein’ down on the floor like that for as long you were.” 

“Yeah, my knees are aching again,” you admit with a shy smile. “When do you want me to come and finish it?”

“Monday at the same time, if you want. Sundays are always reserved for Ellie.”

"Monday works just fine," you reply, smiling at the idea of him reserving an entire day just for Ellie. "I can be here right after work. Is it okay if I leave my things in the room? If not, that’s okay too. I can take them ho–” 

“S’fine,” he interrupts gently. He places his hand against your back. “Don’t mind at all. I’ll walk you home. It’s getting late, and it’s still rainin’ pretty bad.” 

You protest. “No, I’ll be okay. I’ve walked through much worse.” 

“Don’t care,” he cuts you off as he grabs your flannel from the hook. “I’m walking you home, it’s pourin’.”

He holds your flannel open for you and offers a slight nod. You step forward and slip your arms through the sleeves, the closeness sending goosebumps across your skin.

"Thanks," you lowly whisper.

“Course,” Joel breathes out as you step away and grab your backpack.

“You really don’t have to—“

“Now, stop telling me I don’t have to,” he says, mild frustration tinging his voice as he shrugs on his jacket. “I want to.”

He opens the door and motions you to go ahead of him before grabbing your umbrella. 

“Don’t you have one as well?” you ask.

“Never got one.” 

You step out, the rain pouring down in a steady stream. “It’s good for the crops and the water reserves, at least,” you shrug as Joel holds the umbrella above you. 

As you two make your way down the road, you notice the rain pelting Joel, his head and shoulders already damp as he holds the umbrella over you.

“There’s enough room for both of us under here; there’s no sense in you getting soaked,” you say, stepping closer to him.

He mumbles something softly–it sounds like “Y’sweet,” but the rain drowns out his words. You almost think you imagined it. He adjusts the umbrella, moving it so both of you are shielded from the rain.

The two of you walk towards your home, your bodies occasionally tapping against each other as Joel huddles over you. You wish you could slow down, draw out your time next to him, stay under the shelter of the umbrella and his body.

“That’s me, right there,” you say, nodding towards your front door. 

“Y’got a cat?” Joel asks when he sees your cat Penny sitting on your windowsill backlit by your lamp.

“Yeah, two of them. You like cats?”

“Even if I did, couldn’t have ‘em. Allergic.”

“That’s a shame,” you reply with a shrug.

“Hm,” he grunts with a subtle smile.

Escaping the rain underneath the safety of your front porch awning, Joel closes your umbrella and hands it back to you as you tap your wet boots against your frayed welcome mat.

“Well, thanks for walking me home. I’ll see you Monday?” You say as you rest your back against your front door.

“Yeah,” Joel says, his eyes holding your attention for a moment longer than expected. “See you Monday.”

He turns and leaves your little yard, turning back around at your fencepost to give you a nod before continuing down the road in the dark rain. 

Joel Miller just walked you home.

—-

The rain pelts him as he walks home, trying to avoid the large puddles scattered across the ground. The feeling inside his chest is familiar and yet still so foreign. You might just be the sweetest and kindest person he’s ever met.

Kindness, he used to know it. Hell, he used to teach it. 

Telling Sarah to hold doors open for the elderly. Letting Tommy know he needs to drop in to visit their mom more often, not just when he needed to borrow a few bucks. Not charging the overwhelmed father overtime fees for drywall work when a burst pipe destroyed half his kitchen. Helping the short woman grab a bottle of soda off the top shelf at the grocery store. 

But, thousands of miles traversed across a wasteland, killing and pillaging after losing the one reason he had to live, changes a man. 

Then, Tommy. Becoming the grown-up as soon as Sarah took her last breath, keeping a watchful eye on Joel. Running through the door, grabbing the gun after Joel flinched, slapping him across the face and saying he needed him. That someday, someone else would need him. That Joel couldn’t leave him alone—not after they’d already lost so much.

Then, Tess. Exceedingly tough and resourceful. Teaching him that there’s more to getting what you want than violence. That you can lose everything and still believe in something better. 

Then, Ellie. All she’s known is this world he’s called cruel and unforgiving, and yet, she’s tenacious, funny, and excited for every day. Each mile traveled with her, each cheesy joke she giggled at, each time she’d hide behind him, a bit of kindness would wrap around his heart. 

He glances at the garage in his backyard. The lights are out; he’s sure she’s already asleep by now. 

Then, Jackson. How can one care for others when they can’t even care for themselves?  It was always easier to say community no longer exists… until the gates opened to him, and he saw a future for not only himself but for Ellie, too. 

He steps through his door, knocking his wet boots against the rug before slipping them off and putting them on a shoe rack. He never thought he’d have something as ridiculously utilitarian as a shoe rack. Now, he has a warm home to make his own, a comfortable bed to lie in, safety, and protection. Foreign luxuries that now seem normal. 

He slowly learned to believe that there was hope, there was kindness. He didn’t have to lock his heart away. He could have a future while still holding onto the past kindness he once knew. 

He walks into his studio and studies the half-finished mural. Green stems climb across the wall, waiting for you to make the petals bloom. He leans in, his eyes following your delicate brush strokes. His heart is overwhelmed by the time and care you’ve put forth to do this for him. He doesn’t deserve this kindness, and yet, your art tells him otherwise. 

And then, there’s you. Your bright flowers covering dingy walls, leaving the world a little more beautiful. Your joy for teaching your students, especially Ellie. Your little library, giving his fellow residents an escape with each tattered book. People like you shouldn’t exist, so young when the world ended, and yet here you are–restoring kindness into the too-often cruel world. Restoring kindness inside his heart. 

He opens the cabinet in the corner of his studio, pulling out the wooden block just starting to take shape and his carving tools before sitting down on his work stool, facing the mural.

Songs mentioned in this chapter: "In The Aeroplane Over The Sea" by Neutral Milk Hotel "Radio Cure" by Wilco "Miss You" by The Rolling Stones

Divider courtesy of @/saradika-graphics

perma tags: @forspringcleaning, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon Tagging some mutuals who showed interest and those who requested. (As always, let me know if you'd like to be put on or taken off.) @secretelephanttattoo, @sawymredfox, @moonlitbirdie, @arcanefox207, @almostfoxglove, @pascalssbabyy, @toomanytookas, @jolapeno, @goodwithcheese, @msjarvis@itwasntimethatdidit40, @burntheedges, @magpiepills, @maggiemayhemnj, @ace-turned-confused@lorettafudge, @jennaispunk, @lotusbxtch, @sunnytuliptime, @sizzlingcloudmentality@cheekychaos28, @ashleyfilm, @anoverwhelmingdin, @chewie-bars, @whimsiwitchy@suzysface, @peelieblue, @copperhalfcent, @flawssy-227, @tuquoquebrute

[a-cow-stole-my-username]

Gone with the sin

Chapter 1 Losing your life

HIM - Gone with the sin

Fox x reader

GN reader, canon typical violence, this starts (and takes dialogue, only in this chapter credits to Gatobob) after the 2nd show but will be more about time in captivity, not too much Fox in this chapter but trust me we'll get there soon 👀

If he said crawl I would crawl, if he told me to chew on glass I had to look him in the eyes. Everything but obedience was rewarded with punishment, he needed me to be functional but didn't mind the scars, each one like a signature of a name he never told me but everyone else saw. In the lonely nights he was drunk he showed a few crumbs of remorse, those were the only times i saw him human, clinging to that fake peace just to be a fool the next morning I was of any use.

Another show, another set of stitches. Your eye, your back and your insides are all sore. Barely conscious and sleeping through what felt like days. There's no way to tell the time in your cell. You had many dreams but most were about pain and teeth, those sharp pointy edges in you neck, on your back and eating you alive all around. You really can't tell what actually happens in them, you most likely won't remember them awake. It doesn't matter.

You feel a weight in your head, a hand petting you.

"Did I wake you?"

You don't think of your desires and only feel the need to keep sleeping, your eyes are heavy and the other limbs don't want to move but something makes your eye open, on the back of your head you remember that detail, the other eye won't wake up. You can see him now.

"There you are" You still breath slowly "You've been sleeping so long, I was a little worried you'd slipped into a coma" you looked at him, panic rising but not enough to say anything yet, just a weak attempt at standing up, maybe running away.

"Shh. Relax" he said calmly "No show today" those words letting you rest on your "bed" again.

"I've gotten you all fixed up ♡" he said smiling "They couldn't save your eye, but it's been prepared for a prosthetic" the mention of it made you touch it and gasped as you felt nothing there.

"Don't fiddle with it. It needs to heal more" A prosthetic? Why would he help you?

"Why would you even bother fixing my eye if you're just going to kill me?" It had been a while since you had spoken so it came out slightly croaked. He took a moment before he answered.

The rest of the conversation didn't include much talking from your part, he seemed pleased from doing most of the talking and spending time with you. Little did you now the actual weight of the words you made. The drugs did their part and yet again fell into the arms of your little death.

Your last show proved to be best you're sure, he must be so proud. So why did he stop you? Knife still inside, you waited for your next instruction. The room went dark and you heard the sound of the knife be thrown to other side of the room. He took the wire and the shackles and pushed you to the floor.

"This one is mine now" and he also said he wanted you alive, for the longest time you repeated those words to the point the memories felt fake. They came back to you in pain, while making excuses, anniversaries and through emotional punishments.

His chat wanted to see more, he was the one in charge of the ending and you wish to ask Fox about it. That's not his real name, you have a new hole and burns to prove it, it's a persona. The kind that pleased his audience in very dark desires in which you are not the first victim, but hopefully the last star.

You remember the words he said before the third show and you realize it's almost funny how all that medical work was indeed torn apart anyway. Maybe the painkillers stopped you from feeling the true the state of your wounds. Burns, cuts, the infection in your eye, your foot, his teeth, your teeth in your arm... All in different stages of healing that currently condition your mobility.

Your new concerns are scars that you can't bear to think about now, not when he's looking at you in pieces from your head to your toes or maybe it's more about the silent declaration of his name when Fox marked your body.

You are more conscious now, the light gives you a headache, to avoid the bright light of the room, you look down and the bandage on your arm is the most interesting thing in sight "But only I can smell you" is what you mentally hear looking at it. The room was dark in shows and you wonder if his eyes stared like he does now, you remember there was a camera in your cell.

"How are you feeling?" The author of your pain gets close to you now and sits beside you, there's no point in lying. "It hurts" because there's no other way of explaining it to which Fox chuckles "Well, that was the idea. I have seen them myself, you're healing well" he said while placing his hand on your head trying not to hurt you.

The moment feels tender but you still feel anxious around him, the man must notice and he takes a moment to decide before he tells you "no more shows" he looks at your covered belly and you follow. It doesn't help much but he's the closest thing you have to comfort so you get your head closer to him. It reminds you of the touch of his mask mimicking a kiss to your forehead.

"Why did you stop me?"

_______________

Fox doesn't now the answer to that question without letting Ren talk to you. Life taught him he can't get pretty things unless he works and bleeds for them, from the beginning Ren was weak to the point Fox had to take his place in front of the world.

"Why would you help me?" "Who did that to you?" "Are you going to kill me or not?" "I thought you were the one in charge..."

For a person with more illegal chemicals than blood in their veins you managed to pull some of the most important memories that led him to that point and it made him wonder if Fox's strength was another facade in his search of approval. Fox was in charge until he wasn't, Ren was so close to letting you die.

He had wanted you to die, to some extent. The warmth of your blood, the smell of your meat burning and the sound of your cries were something he missed from his shows. Just from the auction his star started to surprise him enough to feel his heart racing in excitement, this single action however didn't change the usual course of events.

He still get shrivers from the memory of your mouth on the gun, how you chose to meet him instead of the choke chain and the pretty smiles you made when trying to please his cruel demands.

It's all in the details his audience didn't properly enjoy as much as he did, it's the shine of the tears getting in the way of you tasting your own blood while looking unintentionally at his eyes. He knows you saw him touching himself and yet you kept going. It's also how you felt around him after doing more than necessary to avoid the sharp ends around your neck. It's the beauty of your trust when he only wants to hurt you.

Ren knows saving you will bring problems, in his youth seeking to fill his heart Ren learned not to trust and entertain the idea of someone who would stay. Maybe, maybe it's the lust of taking your rightful place between the living into appearing dead like a doll of his collection. Life draining out of you like the electricity flowing out of a battery. He savours the idea of orchestrating such an event. The thought doesn't scare him anymore, Fox revels in his perversion.

Thinking of the present, he knows he wants to keep you healthy and that he wants to hurt you again. He should be honest then "I want you to stay"

________________

To stay implies being already somewhere, in your case is difficult to know your place in his play. It's impossible not to fear him when you're not safe yet. Not having a clear view of the future it's easier to let him fill the blanks during this exchange. But by not answering he almost seems nervous, as if you had something over him. Your fear him and decide to have mercy. In an attempt to sit properly and get away from him his eyes turn slightly cold.

"For how long?" and you see the window in the room, how the warmth it gives it's lost to you.

"As long as I want, we'll have enough time to know each other" he said, even without directly looking you heard a smile "Don't think too much about it, you need to rest now" Fox said, placing his hand over the heart shape in your chest. It feels different, because apparently they removed the stitches that held it together.

"Maybe it's time for me to go, don't stay up too late" the placing in his hand changed to yours, his claws are cold.

He stood up, gave you a last smile as wide as in between shows and after a moment of what could be mistakingly interpreted as hesitation he closed the curtains. This time, sleep didn't save you on time.

Moving again to get a better chance at sleep, each wound screamed it's origins, it's echo formed a choir with the increasing sound of your heartbeat. At least tomorrow you hope to see the sun on your skin again.

And you do, you see the sun but your hands are cold. You also see nurses and doctors that have little interest in conversation, it wouldn't make sense Fox would let you here without trusting them not to help you. Having an opportunity to see more people still boosts your morale.

The day the doctors gave you your prosthetic Fox was there to see the procedure, it matched your eye color. Later that day, you saw yourself in the mirror before taking your first bath alone.

Naked in that bathroom the first obvious thing you saw was your head, your eye with and without the prosthetic. The movements didn't properly match in speed, making you feel strange, you looked all around the bathroom to see them move. It could've been sad, but you had a little fun with it, you saw your smile. It took a while to get comfortable using it.

Then you saw your neck, the faint little dots of the chain acting as a necklace, there used to be a mark of the wire too. Giving the size of the mirror the last piece of reflection was of your heart between your chest, the lines were not shaky or too curved they gave prove of his experience. You place your hand there, feeling it like the possessive way in which he touched it both times. You had already been given enough time to see your arms once they took the bandages so further down you saw the mark of the stabbing in your belly, your sex, your legs and your feet.

Being nude now is harmless and innocent, you have seen yourself so many times since forever and this look is prove that you have lived. The cuts in your thighs are healed, the sole of your foot feels normal to walk on now too.

This is you, the things that made you self-conscious before are unimportant now.

You remember the days of taking baths as a kid. You were someone's loved baby once and somehow now you are lonely with no opportunity be with your family again. What would they even think of you now?

A few days went by, nothing memorable in them. Pain, sleep, boredom, simple conversations. That window was a reminder of what you would not be again.

After that, he finally took you home with the same boring methods of transportation because you wake up in a different room again. You finally stand up from the bed and see the surroundings.

First thing to notice is there are no windows, it's mostly bare of personality and smelling like bleach. In a way, like the recording room.

The walls are all white, there is a big wood wardrobe and a bed that would have been inviting if it wasn't for the countless days you have already lost to being unconscious. You also notice you're wearing different clothes, unlike those feminine "outfits" this is more simple and somewhat close to the clothes you were wearing the last time you were outside. There are two shackle like things on your wrists and ankles too, they have a ring on the back but are not connected to a chain, they're also a bit heavy. Remember: he had said no more shows.

Speaking of the devil, he enters the room smiling as always.

_________

I'm already working in the second chapter so no worries, there's a general layout of the entire story and all the plot points I want to add, if for ANY reason I decided not to continue I will 100% tell you what I had planned stay safe ❣️🫀🦊

[everdreamtheseclowns]

INTRO ──★ ˙♦️ ̟ !!

“Salutations, dudes, dudettes, and every single solidarity pixel of the world wide web! Time-traveler Chester Titor here! Ever wanted to see what happens when you give a demonic killer clown that lurks from the depths of your nightmares and his most devoted mortal follower, both of which are currently stuck in the ancient year 1955, access to modern day social media? Well, You’ve come to the right place!” -🛸

CONT’D BELOW CUT!! (Including character intros, basic etiquette, boundaries, etc.)

.★⋅.──────.˳★˳.──────.⋅★.

CHARACTERS ──★ ˙♦️ ̟ !!

Unlikely (Nightmare Clown) ♠️🃏

“Anon” (Mask Clown) ♥️🤡

Chester Titor 🛸👽

.★⋅.──────.˳★˳.──────.⋅★.

“Now that you’re here, let’s talk about the two circus freaks that this account is reallly about! (I mean…sure, i’m apart of this whole thing too, but…c’mon, read the room!)”-🛸

“Let’s start off with the big man himself—The night hag, The primordial chucklenuts from the void, The grin reaper! The-“-🛸

“The clown that’ll be the reason you end up in a horrifically overdue grave?” -🃏

“…well dang, i was just hamming you up! No need to get your taco in a twist, man!” -🛸

“Mmmmhmm~ that’s what i thought, Titor. Now make like an egg n’ beat it for me. Lest i end up scramblin’ you like one!”-🃏

“SO not cool, dude… but i’ll dip.”-🛸

“Good, good…now…”-🃏

♠️🃏”What say you to a little GAME?”🃏♦️

MEET UNLIKELY! (AKA The Nightmare Clown)

Voice Headcanon: DJ Grooves (AHiT)

Speech indicator: signed with 🃏, ♠️/♦️ + RED text!

He isn’t the sweetest ball of sunshine around, feel free to expect the worst from him. He’s just peachy when he wants to be though

He likes human contact! Go ahead, approach the clown! he won’t bite! (Reverse psychology woooooo)

A sore winner and a sore loser. A sore player even. Every last ounce of him is sore. Yeah.

The only thing bigger than himself is his ego. Followed by his appetite, greed, and sportsmanship (or rather the lack thereof). All of which are at an unrecordable size.

Despite his knack for bloodshed, and all things carnage, he has a strong sweet tooth! He favors the more sugary cuisines (Cotton candy, cake, ice cream, anything that stands out to him)

Totally doesn’t secretly run an underground society of mortals wearing clown masks that devote their entire existence to him

.★⋅.──────.˳★˳.──────.⋅★.

“…What’s the fun in playing all these games if you know you’re going to win? It’s kind of anticlimactic methinks”-🛸

“What isn’t the fun ‘bout it? It’s definitely funner when you don’t got a pathetic lil’ morsel in your ear screamin’ about some “YoUr gAmE iS rIgGeD!!””-🃏

“Heyyyy!!! I don’t scream like that :c”-🛸

“I don’t mind it one bit though! After all, it ain’t like they’re gonna be screamin’ their heads off any longer—once they’re CUT CLEAN OFF!”-🃏

“True, however, there’s a possibility that they’d still be alive for a short duration of time afterward, considering that bodiless heads can still function semi-properly, albeit for only a few seconds. But yes, they physically be incapable of screaming post-decapitation.”-🤡

“Hey! Where’d you come from?”-🛸

“…”-🤡

“Ya see? I even got my own second in command to back me up! Where’s yours, Titor? Scared her off or somethin?”-🃏

“…moving on.”-🛸

“It’s…!”-🛸

♣️🤡”ANON!”🤡♥️

MEET “ANON”!

⚠️NOTE: “Anon” is a PLACEHOLDER NAME for the Clown Mask man in TNMN. This character has no official name as of the moment this is all being typed. This section is subject to change in the future, if any more information regarding this guy’s identity is revealed in the tnmn canon.⚠️

Voice Headcanon, in the cases where he rarely speaks out: L Lawliet (Death Note)

Speech indicators: signed with 🤡, ♥️/♣️, BLUE text + small letters

Small text will be used for his speech, since i headcanon him to speak in a very soft tone, by default. Only ever raising his voice when experiencing intense, overwhelming emotions

Isn’t good with presenting himself, and social cues. Has trouble communicating his thoughts, and feelings properly—considering how many would assume, upon initial meeting, that he lacks them.

Unlikely’s right hand man. Does errands and chores for the Big Top, all the while luring pedestrians into playing his boss’s inevitable games.

Rarely speaks, unless talking in regards to his boss (Unlikely), or to add onto a conversation

Knows too much. The government fears him.

Is neighbors with Chester, knew him before the incident occurred (2/9/1955), but didn’t become proper friends with him until then.

When he isn’t talking, he’d normally either write his thoughts out, draw, or reply with simple gestures.

.★⋅.──────.˳★˳.──────.⋅★.

“Alright, Chestnut. You’re up…”-🃏

“Oh? Already?? Cool beans!”-🛸

“Yea, yea…don’t go all grandiose, grandpa. This ain’t about you, y’hear?…”-🃏

“Ughh,, fiiine…”-🛸

“But lemme just…ahem…”-🛸

“ohh boy.”-🃏

“Salutations, dudes, dudettes, and every single solidarity pixel of the world wide web! It’s (as seen on the news) Time-Traveler…

🐄🛸CHESTER TITOR, HERE!!🛸👽

Voice Headcanon: Fiddleford McGucket (Gravity Falls)

Speech Indicators: Occasional typing quirks/modern “slang”, 👽/🛸/🐄, PURPLE text

He was on the daily newspaper. Twice! Such an achievement, i know.

Rots the brains of civilians nationwide with his obscure 21st century Pop/Internet culture references

Has an exact 42% chance of popping up during asks, even if they don’t have anything to do with him.

May or may not be friends with Aliens

.★⋅.──────.˳★˳.──────.⋅★.

“Well, that’s just about enough out of us! Next stop: basic rules and etiquette! Bye-byeonara!”-🛸

BLOG RULES ──★ ˙♣️ ̟ !!

Basic blog rules:

The blog will open and close every so often to prevent influxes of asks. If there’s a lack of asks at the time of closing, they’ll stay open for a day or two

No Anonymous asks, for now. This fandom (TNMN) has a bad problem with anons and askboxes, as one who’s been in the Tumblr community for a while now should know. As per the beginning of this askblog’s existence, I’ll be keeping Anonymous asks off, for safety reasons.

Though i accept and often play into suggestive jokes about the three (🛸,🃏,🤡), borderline N$F₩ asks will be discarded. The person running this askblog (@gabbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ) is a MINOR!!

If i end up discarding or never answering your ask, it’s possibly because I was uncomfortable with it. I hate to do it, but. Yeah.

I may be on/off with this blog due to real life issues (in this specific case, School and other projects.) BUT i will make time for it though!

Please note that most of the stuff i make these characters say and do are based around HEADCANONS!! Their actions and thoughts aren’t entirely correct, unless proven otherwise by canon (or by Nachosamagames himself). However, i attempt to stay as close to whatever goes on in said canon as possible, aside from throwing in my theories and personal twists in there.

[aangarchy]

How I would have re-written episode 1 of the netflix live action series

I've been thinking about this a lot, especially after watching several analysis videos and breakdowns of bad writing.

Keep the opening sequence. I liked the opening with the two Earthkingdom soldiers well enough. Just get some better actors, and maybe a better reason for the Earthkingdom to believe the Fire Nation will start a war, bc just tossing a scroll to your companion telling him to get it to the Earthking bc "they're going to start a war" is a bit too vague for my liking.

Skip the Kyoshi narration. Completely get rid of it. The only thing it does is repeat things we already know, or tell us how we're supposed to feel about the main character before we even meet him. The one thing that we'll miss here is the explanation of what an Avatar is, but that's something that can be remedied later, in a way that isn't just spoken exposition.

Now, because they wanted a "mature & gritty" live action they kan keep the airnomad genocide sequence. Controversial, I know, because personally I didn't feel like it needed to be there, but for the purpose of keeping the live action's specific story, we'll keep it.

We start off with Aang, he's playing with his fellow students (not just by himself), this shows us he's playful, whimsical, goofy. This way he doesn't have to tell us this later while talking to Appa. While Aang is playing in the background we go to Gyatso, who is being told by the abbot that he has to tell Aang his identity because they got some really bad intel from the Earthkingdom, the Avatar needs to be ready sooner than planned. Gyatso is sad about it but goes outside to call Aang away. This gives us the first indication that Aang feels ostracized and isolated because of his identity. Gyatso and Aang walk through the temple and pass a statue of Yangchen. This is where we explain what an Avatar is, as Gyatso reveals to Aang that he is the Avatar. I like the idea of still implementing the airnomad identification method, the four toys that are actually Avatar relics. Aang is scared and confused, and he's also told he can't complete his training in the Southern temple, so he'll have to be separated from Gyatso. We get the same emotional payoff. I also want to introduce a bit of a time skip, we have time for this because we got rid of the Kyoshi intro monologue. We see Aang get rejected by his friends, we see him get taken away from Gyatso for extra training, we see him bored out of his mind during important meetings concerning the Fire Nation's movements. Then we skip to the night of the comet festival. Comet is in the sky, and Aang tosses and turns in his bed. He was told he has to leave right after the comet festival, so Aang runs to Appa and runs away. Actually RUNS away, not just getting a breath of fresh air.

Then we go to the attack. Same turn of events, the airnomads realize they're under attack, and while they're not outnumbered they are still clearly overpowered. The one change I would put here is make it a cliffhanger. Don't show Aang make his iceberg, we basically don't know what happened to him from this point, at least not yet. We don't show the outcome of the battle with the airbenders, but we can already tell it's not going well. End with Gyatso in a room being surrounded by firebenders, the firebenders ask Gyatso where the Avatar is and he says he doesn't know, which isn't a lie. The firebenders aim to shoot, but as the camera pans away we see Gyatso do a last airbender move. It only gets revealed later that he basically sucked the oxygen out of the room to kill everyone including himself, but we don't see it happening.

Boom: we switch to Katara. She's not in the haunted ship, she's with Sokka on the boat for a hunting trip. Same thing happens, they get dragged by the current, they stumble upon the massive iceberg. I would keep Sokka's sexist remarks, and Katara breaks the iceberg because of how angry she gets at him. Aang is free, the massive beam appears and we cut to Zuko, who stares at the beam like it solved all of his problems. Aang asks Katara to go penguin sledding.

Aang gets taken to the village, everyone is confused to see his tattoos. Gran gran makes the same comment as in the original: "we thought the airbenders were extinct". Both Aang and the audience get confused now, bc we were with the airbenders just now. How many of them died during the fight? How much time has passed? Aang and Katara do some bonding. They go penguin sledding, Katara reveals she's the only waterbender in the south pole. Sokka gets mad at them goofing off, because there's a war going on. Aang doesn't understand, what war are we talking about?

Then instead of letting Gran gran do the iconic intro as pure boring exposition, I'd say make the scene more atmospheric. Aang gets invited to join a watertribe feast, and they tell a story around a campfire. Katara is the one telling the story, she's looking at the kids, Aang sits amongst them, sticking out like a sore thumb in his airnomad tunic amongst the watertribe kids. Katara then gives her iconic intro, and tells it like a story, talking about their brave warriors off to fight in the earthkingdom, lots of the kids listen in awe because their fathers are amongst the warriors, and Aang slowly starts to realize that what happened to him was 100 years ago. He still doesn't know the airbenders got attacked, and the audience doesn't know if any airbenders survived.

Zuko attacks the village. He doesn't do any exposition to Iroh (because Iroh as a character already knows Zuko is banished). He just shows up and tries to capture the Avatar. We don't tell the audience yet, we just know he's from the same nation that attacked Aang's people. Zuko wreaks havoc and Sokka nearly ends up getting killed, so Aang intervenes, shows off some airbending and we have the same revelation: "you're the airbender? You're the Avatar?" And Sokka and Katara look at Aang in shock. Aang goes with Zuko, and Katara convinces Sokka to go help him. Gran gran agrees, and gives her blessing to the both of them. They take Appa, we keep the gag of Sokka protesting and then cutting to him screaming on Appa.

Aang frees himself, goes into Zuko's room, steals Zuko's stupid diary, they have a fight, Aang escapes but falls in the water, cue Avatar state (i'm still mad they took the first avatar state moment away in the LA) but because Katara and Sokka looked from a distance they didn't really see what happened. They take Aang away, Katara manages to freeze some soldiers, they fly off. Katara asks Aang why he didn't tell them he was the Avatar. Aang says he doesn't want to be. Then they ask where to go to now.

We try to give the illusion of a time skip. Boom: southern airtemple. Only it looks different from what we saw earlier in the episode. It's completely overgrown and deserted. Every hope that Aang had of anyone being alive is slipping away. They walk around, and Sokka accidentally steps on some bones. Aang asked what happened, and Katara explains that they don't really know because it was so long ago, all they know is the Fire Nation started the war by first attacking the airtemple. Aang is confused why the Fire Nation would do this, Sokka goes off on a tangent calling them monsters and heartless, Katara stops him when she realizes Aang isn't really listening, bc Aang is walking off to the room Gyatso died in.

We see Gyatso's skeleton, finally it's confirmed to the audience that he didn't survive. He's surrounded by skeletons of Fire Nation soldiers. Cue Avatar state again. Katara and Sokka nearly get blown off the mountain, but Katara talks Aang down (because yes, it's important that she's the one getting him out of the avatar state, not that he manages to calm himself down). We end the episode the same way, Aang breaks down sobbing in Katara's arms.

Rewriting the episode this way gets rid of several writing flaws that are very noticeable in the live action. It also sets up plot points that are important for later, and leaves some satisfaction for the audience so they can piece the plot together while watching instead of having their hand held and being told what's going on by the characters as it's happening. It also leaves some important reveals for later (zuko having been banished and why, the reason he's trying to capture aang), so the audience still has some surprises coming its way. I personally feel this version of the rewritten episode is also good for people who never even watched the original, it's easy to follow without being so easy it gets boring, and still leaves an air of mystery.

I could rewrite every episode this way honestly, but if i were to do it for episode 3 and 4 specifically we'd be here for ages because there's so. much. wrong. in there. Also episode 5 while we're at it. 6 can remain roughly the same.

Let me know what you guys think.

[therocketeer0501]

Emptiness Machine

Starscream X Reader (Mech Pilot AU)

Author note: Hey everyone I’m so so sorry it’s been so long. This has been the worst three weeks of my life. Currently staying with my dad and having to see what exactly happens going forward. That aside please enjoy chapter 9 of emptiness machine! And thank you for your patience. ❤️

Chapter 9

The crushing hug the scout had you in nearly cracked the brand new welds that had been used to repair you. You chuckle as he finally lets go but keeps a servo wrapped around the arm of your mech. The other bot, Ironhide, waved at the two of you from the door.

“C’mon we ain’t got time for tearful hellos. The others are guarding the open spacebridge as we speak.”

He starts out the door and bee goes to pull you along with him. The restraints that Starscream had ordered the drones to place on you were still binding your wrists. You awkwardly stumble along letting him guide you through the smoke. He and Ironhide had done quite a number on the drones through this hallway. you smile a little knowing later you would congratulate them on their victory. After turning down a few more hallways, you join up with the lambo twins and Hound. They urge you forward and through the last set of blast doors. The scene that awaited you was straight out of a science fiction comic book. Optimus himself stood in front of the open space bridge locked in hand to hand combat with Megatron.

Optimus swung his axe missing Megatron’s helm by mere inches. The Decepticon leader taking the opportunity to drive his energy blade up just missing vital energon lines running through his opponent’s neck. The prime countered, his joints straining as he swung the heavy weapon down in a brutal arc. Megatron sidestepped just in time to watch the axe slamming into the ground with a deafening thud, sending up a spray of sparks.

Before the axe could be pulled back, Megatron darted in, his energy blade flashing in the dim light, a precise thrust aimed at his opponent’s chassis. Optimus twisted, deflecting the strike with a swift, brutal swipe of his axe. Megatron’s blade grazed his plating, but he barely flinched.

There were scowls on their faces as they circled each other, each waiting for an opening to strike. Optimus growled deep in his frame, lunging forward again, his weapon whistling through the air. His opponent narrowly avoiding the strike. The energy blade was raised just in time, blocking the blow but the sheer force of it drove him to his knees. With a growl of fury, Megatron pushed back, rolling aside, narrowly avoiding a second strike.

He sprang to his feet, his blade now a blur as he countered with a series of fast, slashing attacks.The two bots locked optics, and in a flash, they were upon each other again, weapons clashing in a deafening frenzy of power and precision, each driven by eons of war and the raw need to destroy one another.

This wasn’t a fight Optimus was trying to win. As you look closer, you see the Autobot leader carefully leading Megatron to the opposite side of the room from the portal. An effective strategy and flawless distraction. Using his own fury against him. You can’t help but smile a bit as Bee tugs on your arm, pulling you towards the portal. Ironhide and the twins had already gone through and Hound was right on their aft. No one wanted to stick around while the two big shots had it out. Letting the scout lead you forward you brace for the dizzying swirl of noise and light before disappearing behind the rest of the team.

As you come out on the other side, you see the familiar sight of the launch bay. Right behind you, a heavy ped step announces the arrival of Optimus. He’s clutching a fresh wound on his shoulder, but other than that he seems fine. Relief and exhaustion grip you and your knees buckle beneath you. Bumblebee luckily still has his digits locked around your wrist and catches you as you lean forward. His worried tone faded to a deafening ringing sound as your optics white out.

When you wake hours later, you expect to be disconnected from your mech. Instead, you are laid out still connected to your machine on one of the medical berths Ratchet uses to treat injured Autobot. Your chassis is open, exposing your real body. Tubes and energon lines are connected at various points around your frame. Blinding white light from above you makes you blink a few times, trying to adjust your optics to the harsh glow. From the cockpit of your mech, a familiar voice mumbles.

“She’s awake. Seraphim can you hear me?” Dr. Antonov’s voice was muffled by the layers of plating and wires he was behind.

You groan in response and he moves to be closer to your helm. You turn and train him with golden optics. “Dr. Antonov. It’s good to see you. Is…everything alright?”

The doctor stayed shut away in his lab most days. After years of working for the government, he had finally retired. He was promptly brought back for the express purpose of finishing his research on Cybertronian biology after first contact. He was a kind man, albeit a bit odd and antisocial. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled up at you. His greying, dark hair a mess as it usually was.

“You’ve had quite an ordeal haven’t you Sera? Honestly I was surprised we got you back in one piece! Given how Prime had described the Decepticons.” He reached out and patted the side of your helm gently. You look back at your open chassis.

“Doctor, why haven’t I been disconnected?” as you asked this, his smile faded. He looked his age once again as he turned slowly to walk back to where he had been.

“Something is interfering with your ability to disconnect from the Seraphim frame. If we try to sever the connection in this state…your consciousness could be lost.”

Before you could process his words, you hear shouting outside the door. Muffled voices and sounds of a struggle could be heard. Two bots were arguing.

“You better let me in old timer before I let myself in.”

“She’s just waking up, we don’t want to overwhelm her with company. Besides, we don’t know if the doctor has broken the news to her—“

The bot guarding the door was cut off as the other shoved his was into the med-bay. The giant metal door slid open and quick ped steps announced the arrival of a very worried and fussy friend.

•••

“You absolute failure! I cannot believe you allowed Optimus Prime and his lackeys to bridge directly onto the flight deck of my ship!” Megatron sent a devastating kick into the side of the kneeling figure before him. It sent the bot jolting to the side, nearly purging his tanks from the force of the blow. Venting rapidly, Starscream tries to re-align his vocal apparatus to speak.

“Lord Megatron! Please I was interrogating the prisoner! Didn’t you want the valuable information she was carrying?” Another blow to the helm as he bowed low, trying to appease his leader’s anger. Dizzy and disoriented he tried to right himself, only to be grabbed by a wing and flung across the room. There was a sickening crunch as his wing dislocated and hung useless by a few cables. His body hit the opposite wall and he landed in a heap unmoving. The gathered Decepticons seemed to flinch in unison as the Warlord stalked towards the seeker.

“Starscream you imbecile. I told you to take care of it. Didn’t I? I wanted that thing offline! It had no such intel to give you. It was taking you for the fool you are! And now Optimus prime has ground bridge coordinates for the flight deck of the Nemesis!” He reached out a clawed servo and grabbed the seeker around the throat. Lifting him off of his peds. Starscream sputtered but couldn’t get the words out. Energon leaked from the split in the mesh of his lip where Megatron had landed a solid blow earlier. He bared his denta at his leader and scrabbled at the grip around his throat as Megatron squeezed. Starscream’s optics flickered as he was about to lose consciousness. A calm and steady voice interrupted the two.

“Lord Megatron if I may, the abomination did in fact possess coordinates for other energon mines. Isn’t that correct Soundwave?” Shockwave’s even tone despite the mauling of his second in command, made Megatron pause.

He growled and dropped the body of the seeker and he crumpled into a heap on the floor. Turning his attention to a very uncomfortable looking Soundwave, Megatron began to stalk over looking eerily calm. As he approached Soundwave produced a small disk. One he had hoped to keep hidden for his own research. But Shockwave had seen him downloading the information from the prisoner. He handed it over, there was no information on the location of the base of operations for their enemy, however, the location of half a dozen energon mines wasn’t bad intel at all.

While Megatron was discussing the new intel with Shockwave, Starscream winced as he hauled himself up. This wasn’t the first time his leader had taken out a defeat on his frame. He gritted his denta against the pain and limped painfully out. He needed to be away from here. Anywhere but here before panic gripped him once again. He felt his spark start to spin faster as he hobbled to his habisuite to do his own repairs.

[springsketches]

Look what came in the mail tonight ~

[aomiiine]

CALEB, THE FARSPACE COLONEL

AT THIS SHIP YOU WILL WITNESS … current!caleb & fem!reader. warning(s) -> MDNI. [18+ only]. needy/possessive caleb, might be ooc caleb, apple as a gag(?), squirting, implied creampies, cum eating, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, no plot, just smut, not proofread wordcount. 1.6k (kinda short cs idk much ab him yet & i dedicated my whole pussy into this forgive me) tags. @ljubimaya

𝐻𝐸 𝑅𝐸𝒯𝒰𝑅𝒩𝒮 with single-minded determination to keep you near him at all times. Even with a 180 degree turn of his personality during his interrogation of you before, he assures you that protocol was the only reason for his brief change. Yet in the privacy of his room, he doesn’t exactly change to normal..

You didn’t know what brought you to the current situation you were in. To be more detailed, the situation you were in included you sprawled out on his bed, shirt bunched up beneath your chin with Caleb’s body hovering above you, burying his cock into you with reckless abandon. It all started with an innocent, heartfelt confession. But little did you know that calebs’ feelings would run so deep, so intense, to the point he had to have his mouth latch onto one of your tits, eagerly suckling on a nipple all the while his hips were unrelenting.

“W-wait, Caleb, please, I can’t cum again,” you whine with a sob, hands above you clinging onto his pillow for dearlife as he brought you to the brink of your nth orgasm. Caleb on the other hand seemed better than you despite the fact he would follow you every time you came, spilling his seed into your warm channel as if in sync. In truth, he wanted to cum the moment he slid inside your wet heat, but decided against it, wanting to cum with you. “Yes you can, I know you can, sweet girl,” he mumbled persuasively sweet against your flushed skin, your tits aching in the best way in his squeezing hand and warm mouth.

“Caleb, Caleb, fuck—! I feel weird,” you sobbed with a drawn out moan, hips beginning to squirm at the unfamiliar feeling in lower belly. His cock was stretching you out so good, almost too good. You thought you were on the edge of another orgasm but it felt completely foreign to you, fearing that you might embarrass yourself if Caleb kept on going like this. But Caleb himself was undeterred. Instead, a knowing smile of satisfaction crept on his face at your pleas, knowing exactly what was coming. “Of course you are, baby,” he cooed softly, hand fondling your right breast slipping down your back to thumb over the sensitive nub of your clit, rubbing it quick, tight circles that made your body arch into him with a cry.

Your legs quivered and kicked weakly on Caleb’s hip all the while he was fucking into you like it was nobody’s business, eager to push more of his cum into your already fully pussy. He could feel the heels of your feet burying into his lower back, quivering with pleasure that he knew was unfamiliar to you until now. Until he brought it to you.

his touch was precise, coaxing but going above your limits to make sure he makes your mind blank out. And true to his intentions, you cried out, loud, arching off the bed with splutters of profanities leaving your lips along with a wail pleading of his name when the pace of his thrusts into you sopping cunt quickened along with the rub and pinches of the throbbing nub of your clit.

Your lips parted in a silent scream when you felt yourself squirting all over his thick cock, yours juices surely overflowing onto his pelvis and down his balls to drip onto the sheets, making you gasp repeatedly, velvety walls spasming uncontrollably around Caleb’s pitifully hard dick, making him hiss a heavy ‘shit’ before he fucked into you more, prolonging your orgasm to reach his own. His hips jerked erratically into you, balls drawn up tight with his incoming orgasm until he came to an abrupt stop, hand previously rubbing your nub now holding you down by your pelvis all the while his throbbing cock pulsed with each pump of cum into your already filled cunt, making sure to overflow you with his seed.

Caleb’s chest heaved with heavy breaths to catch his breath, pulling away from your boneless, sweat sheened body on the bed, with his length deeply sheathed inside your warm hole still. With a few more shallow thrusts, he finally pulled out, breathing out a moan at the erotic sight of his cum that made a ring around his base, your leaking slit no less sexy.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot like.. Panting like a bitch in heat just for me,” caleb taunted, his own cheeks flushed red all the same along with his body coated with a thin layer of sweat like yours was on his bed, chest heaving from exertion. He couldn’t help the sly smirk that crept up his face, hand sliding down your thigh to pat the plush flesh there twice as if he was praising you, saying ‘good girl’.

Your pants died out and your breathing came back to normal, your limbs weak on the bed after a moment. Your lids felt heavy during the brief period when Caleb wasn’t doing to you, head burying into his pillow beneath your head to succumb to the sleep that called for you. But it seems like your supposed childhood friend had other plans for you.

“Urk..! Caleb.. what’re you doing now..” you slurred, mind still hazy from the mind blowing orgasm he gave you to process the tug he made on your leg. Your head lifted from the pillow weakly to see what he was doing standing off the edge of the bed, other hand moving to wrap around your other leg for another tug until you were close to the edge of the mattress.

“Shh.. get your rest. I’ll clean you up while you sleep, yeah?” the man with violet eyes shushed with a teasing lilt, reaching an arm over to grab one of his red apples nearby to bring them up to your lips, leaning forward to meet your half-lidded gaze. “Try not to be too loud.. I don’t want any of my colleagues coming over for a noise complaint,” he spoke in a near whisper, making the fresh red skin of the apple to kiss your equally succulent lips. You brought up a hand to hold the apple, letting him pull away. Yours brows furrowed at the implication that he wasn’t done, already biting down on the sweet fruit he gave you.

Leaving you oblivious, Caleb knelt between your legs that hung over the edge of his bed, positioning himself so he could lean in close to your pussy which he left in a mess, globs of his semen still oozing out to drip down the delicious curves of your ass. With eyes gleaming with unsated lust, he propped an arm under your thigh, the other hand pushing the other thigh further apart to give him access to your dripping cunt. He stopped pulling you apart when he could see your weakly clenching hole, head dipping to lick a firm stripe up the wet slit, making sure to flick over the clit too before repeated the action once more, though sloppier this time.

The evident shivers you made at his ministrations made him grin at the while he lapped up at the remnants of your juices that stained your folds, alternating between tongue-fucking your slick warm heat and sucking and biting on your sensitive nub for an extra boost of pleasure to shoot up your spine. Caleb’s gaze flickered up to your squirming form whenever he found the strength to peel his eyes off your filled pussy, scooping up his cum that he stuffed inside your used cunt to taste himself, then shove it back into you. The man could barely hear the muffled whines and whimpers you made whenever his slid his tongue as deep as it could go past your entrance, unrelenting with his pace, utterly absorbed in the act of pleasing you along with ‘cleaning’ you.

your earlier boneless body flared up again at the persistent strokes of caleb’s tongue on your wet heat, feeling his hand on your thigh knead your flesh and squeeze it tight whenever he lost himself in your depths for a long while before pulling away to get some air, only when he felt the unforgivable burn in his lungs. The way his nose grazed your neglected clit was equally unforgivable, only offering the nub a few kitten licks that nothing to sate its throbbing need for stimulation. Yet when he sensed your impending orgasm, it was as if a switch went off in his head, his focusing shifting to your pitiful clit to assault it with full force, nibbling and swirling his tongue around it relentlessly. The man was thankful he gave you that apple, or else the volumes of your cries at the delicious orgasm he was about to make you reach again would have escaped his room to the ears of his unsuspecting colleagues.

“For fuck’s sake, Caleb, slow, fuck..! Slow down..!” You thrashed your hips all over his face, grinding for dear life. You could feel your climax coming in, and it was coming in fast. You rocked your hips into his face a few more times before you brought the bite covered apple to your mouth for another full bite, throwing your head back with a hand gripping onto the pillow beside your head, an overwhelming sense of ecstasy washing over your body, barely able to overcome your sobs.

“I could make you cum all the damn hours of the day if I could, princess, fuck.. you did so well,” Caleb grinned against the damp folds of your pussy, half of his face smeared with your cum which he slurped with unrivalled eagerness. He pulled away from between your thighs to look up at you properly, curl of his lips growing only wider at the sight of your utterly passed out on his bed, his earlier praises falling to deaf ears.

[lokissweater]

hey i really really love your fics and the way you write youre so talented! ive been searching for a virgin!yuji x virgin!reader for so long and my life would literally be urs if you wrote this. if not no worries, i totally get it.

sending love! - anon

OH THIS IDEA IS HOOOOTTTTT AND U BEST BELIEVE IM ALL OVER IT!! thank you for your sweet words and for sending in a request!! i hope you like it!! :] <333

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oh my god, pretty!

{yuji itadori x f!reader}

summary: your relationship with yuji was semi new and cute, you both absolutely adoring the fuck out of one another since the moment you met. one thing you have in common though? you’re both loser virgins with absolutely no experience whatsoever, and on one night where you’re both innocently cuddling on the couch watching a movie— yuji goes NUTS.

warnings: MDNI. college!au, afab!reader, SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ya’ll), accidental creampie LOL, yuji is a little perv, smut with barely any plot she goes straight to the good stuff, cursing, pet names, fluff, FILTHYYYY this is filthy, all characters are aged up.

word count: 3.9k

authors note: PHEEWWWW THIS ONE HAD ME MEOWING LIKE A KITTY CAT AND I HOPE YALL MEOW WITH ME!!! thank you for your support always, that is an absolute given, i love you and i love you forever. MWAAAHHHH <3333

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“are you okay baby?”

no you were not.

because yuji was in a black tight compression tee and pj’s while you both were watching a movie together and cuddling on your living room couch, the sleeves of his shirt accentuating his biceps and the rest of it squeezing over his pecs and torso, the brightness of your tv illuminating all of his sharp handsome features that had you gnawing at your nails in a nervous fit— him looking at you with pinched eyebrows.

yuji and you had just started dating a couple of months ago— his lively overly friendly personality winning you over without really much effort at all, and your genuine sweet one catching his heart the minute he saw you come into one of his lectures last year, looking soul killingly beautiful and radiant, the both of you befriending each other quickly as your interests aligned.

and you started hanging out on and off campus a lot more frequently after that— gradually falling more and more in love until yuji finally gathered up his jumpy nerves and asked you to be his girlfriend.

there was a problem though.

neither of you had had sex before, or had done anything in between the lines with other people before you got together.

it was the first thing that yuji worried about when he first started dating you— embarrassed and afraid that you would think he was a big fat loser with no game and that he would potentially run the risk of losing you, you maybe preferring a man of experience to match your own needs.

but when he admitted that to you, and when you shook your worried little head and told him you were in the same exact boat as him, he was fucking elated— his apprehensions crumbling down like a landslide and replaced instead with the giddiness of getting to do stuff with you for the first time ever, and him being the man (the only man ever he hoped) to get to do it to you.

but then there was another problem.

neither of you seemed to want to start anything, the both of you hesitant and scared because of your lack of experience— petrified of humiliating yourselves if one of you tried and pathetically failed at it or did something incorrectly.

“mhm! fine.” you smiled sweetly, your calm voice a completely different contrast to what was currently happening inside your reeling fuzzy brain.

you had both definitely talked about it, the subject of intimacy. but it was always something that the two of you reassured each other would happen eventually when you were both ready, that there was no rush— choosing to brush the subject off like it was nothing.

except it wasn’t nothing. it was never nothing. and you were both way past fucking ready, especially yuji, him practically ripping apart at the seams with horn dog need anytime he saw you wear those little skirts that you like so much, or whenever you’d straddle his lap during one of your daily makeout sessions— his hands literally trembling over your ass in attempts at being respectful of pretty ol’ you, settling for placing them on your upper back instead.

and you would internally pout, disappointed, because you always without fail noticed all of this yet you were too shy to mention anything or do something about it on your own.

“you sure?” he asked softly. “you look like you’re thinking about something.”

he raised a hand and gently poked your cheek repeatedly with his index finger, a silly smile on his face. “tell me baby tell me baby tell me baby—”

you giggled, “i’m okay! just zoned out.” you pushed his finger away, leaning up and pressing a quick shy kiss to his cheek that made him instantly flush pink in return, a wobbly smile spreading across his face.

in the midst of you retreating back to your previous position, yuji caught your chin with his fingers and turned you to look at him, your cheeks blushing as he stared at you with lovesick dreamy eyes.

“can we— um.” his gaze flickered to your lips. “can we make out.”

your eyes widened slightly and your hands grew clammy fast, cheeks buzzing as you stared back at him.

since making out was the only thing you both properly conquered, it happened almost every single time you saw each other, the act practically filling in and making up for the more lewd exchanges you both were missing out on, your kisses always sloppy and messy but heated— though each time it came around to it you were often just as nervous as the first time.

“s—sure!” you stammered. “you don’t have to ask me yuji… you can just— y’know… do it..”

he bit his tongue, your timidness for some fucking reason sending a shock of arousal through his veins and straight down to his dick as he tried his best to swallow it and not make it obvious for you.

“okay!”

he brought your face closer then and kissed you, a solid one at first, until you slowly parted your lips and ushered him in, deeper, your body moving closer to his on its own as he immediately responded with placing a hand on your leg to throw it over his lap, your mouths wet and slippery as he properly settled you to sit on him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, the movie drowned out completely in the background as a sequence of lip smackings echoed throughout the room, yuji’s hands on your upper back like always as you continued to make out… until you felt a little stinging cramp in your knee— moving your hips a little bit to readjust, utterly unaware of how you accidentally applied pressure over yuji’s crotch as he sucked in a breath through his nose and pulled away.

“fuck don’t do that baby don’t do that.”

you froze, hands quickly retracting back to your chest. “what? what do what?”

“oh—” he froze, eyes wide and cheeks pink as his mouth opened and closed like a fishy out of water.

he couldn’t possibly tell you why, not wanting to scare you away by admitting that you grinding down on his crotch like that made his dick jerk and mind haze in the most filthy and perverted way imaginable, feeling like he wanted to dig himself a big fat grave of horny shame to throw himself into as he watched your pretty eyes look at him the way that they were, wanting that same look but underneath him instead—

your bent knee cramped up once more and you hissed, moving your hips again except this time harder, yuji’s eyes flying open as the grip around your upper torso tightened, a strangled whiny hum escaping his throat.

your eyes snapped to his at the sound, now feeling something hard poking your clothed pussy as your brain finally put fucking two and two together, your hand slapping over your mouth in embarrassment at what you did and over your stupid delayed realization.

“oh! yuji i’m so sorry i— i didn’t realize—”

he shook his head rapidly, his cheeks and ears red as he shakily smoothed his hands over your hips comfortingly.

“no baby! don’t be sorry it’s okay!” he quickly kissed your forehead. “i—it’s me… it’s not you at all…”

but there was something else behind his eyes, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint as he just stared at the place where your body met his crotch, hands slowly gripping your hips tighter in a certain way and… and actually moving you now in a certain way that made you promptly realize he was grinding you against him, pleasure quickly twitching at your clit in response as flat hands flew to his chest to stabilize yourself.

“what— what are you doing?” you stammered, your chest heaving a little.

“s—sorry!…” he mumbled, eyes still trained to the same area. “it just— felt kind of good… so..”

yuji peered up at you, a cautious look on his face as he eyed you curiously with his pinky cheeks bright— hesitantly indulging in his overwhelming sick need for you, as simply making out was just not cutting it anymore ever since he got a taste of how something like this could feel a couple of seconds ago.

and your thoughts were identical to his.

timidly, you slid your hands up slowly to rest back on his manly shoulders, the rough material of his compression tee under your fingers making you literally squeeze your hole around nothing, eyes nervously darting around his face.

“o—okay…”

his hand came up to brush some of your soft hair over your shoulder, his thumb moving in to caress gently over your hot cheek.

“can i… can i do it again?”

you shakily nodded, and he gripped your hips again before moving you just like he did before, your crotch coming down to meet his slowly and cautiously as your mouth partially hung open at how good it actually felt, yuji staring at your expression with blown out pupils and nearly drooling over it.

but he wanted more, his hands moving you then to grind on him a little faster, his hips coming up to meet yours at the same time as you shyly met him halfway— quick and stuttery until all of a sudden you were full blown humping into each other like rabid dogs, your tiny whiny moans setting him the fuck off as he captured your lips again to make out with you, fearing if he let you quietly moan like that for his ears to selfishly drink up that he was going to end up busting in his pants.

“y—yuji…” you whimpered in between kisses.

“yeah baby?” his husky voice sent another electrical shock of ecstasy through your body, your fingers gripping his shirt in tiny fists as you didn’t even know what exactly you were pleading him for.

but he knew.

he wrapped his arms entirely around you and moved so that you were laying flat on your back now, yuji in between your legs as he kissed you sloppily while grinding himself back on you again, him literally mimicking how it would be to fuck you as you squeezed his biceps for support, your thin pajama shorts feeling his hard cock bulging from his pj pants and rutting against your cunt desperately with every hump.

yuji, literally trapped in a dimension of arousal and nasty fucking thoughts of you with every moan that slipped past your puffy soft lips, had him reaching and tugging down on the waist band of your shorts like an animal, your baby blue panties with a little ribbon bow in the middle making him nearly choke on his spit.

your hand quickly came to clasp around his wrist, stopping him.

“y—yuji my parents! i don’t know if we should—”

“oh fuck—” he whispered, looking up to the top of your staircase and down where your parents were sound asleep, gnawing so much on his bottom lip in cock blocked agony that he accidentally drew blood.

and you didn’t know why, but the urge was unforgiving as you reached up and cupped his hot sweaty cheeks, pulling his face down as you stuck your tongue out and licked over his bleeding lip.

yuji stared, eyes wide, before he let out a low guttural grown and shoved his face into the crook of your neck.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

you were fucking killing him.

he rolled his leaky cock slowly into you again, his shoulders trembling at the cold feeling of his wet boxers that were literally covered in pre cum the moment your pretty plush thighs sat over his lap, you speaking up.

“m—maybe—”

he pulled back fast.

“yeah?”

“maybe if you just— look. that… that should be fine, right?”

“yeah yeah!” yuji’s invisible tail was practically wagging over your words. “look uh huh! just look baby.”

you bit your lip, slowly reaching down and tugging as both of yuji’s hands went flying down to help you, pulling them over your thighs and down to your ankles before setting them behind him on the couch with a soft thud.

you kept your thighs closed, shy and timid as you realized yuji hadn’t seen you like this yet… your cheeks flaring in embarrassment as he pulled your knees apart and gawked at the vision before him, yuji looking at you like you had built the entirety of rome by yourself with your bare hands.

you hadn’t noticed yet, but your panties were drenched— a patch of wet spread over your lips that literally outlined the anatomy of your pussy to a t, leaving little to the imagination as his eyes stayed locked on your clit in a complete trance.

“oh my god, pretty!…” he murmured, his index finger coming down to softly touch and rub your puffed up clit over your panties, you squeaking in response and slamming your thighs closed again.

“sorry! sorry!” he sputtered, frantic as he came down to peck little kisses on your cheek apologetically, your eyes shut, bashful. “did that hurt? i didn’t mean to i’m sorry—”

“n—no!” you shook your head and slowly peeked your eyes open. “it didn’t… just felt s—sensitive.”

his shoulders relaxed in relief, nodding, his eyes widening in delight when you spread your legs back open for him again, your panties literally stuck slick to your pussy at this point.

yuji’s fingers pressed against your folds, him wanting to just feel the way your little wet lips mushed up against his digits, his curious hand directing him slowly up over your clit and back down by your virgin hole as he breathed hard through his nose, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down over your cunt and not freak you out.

but what he was doing felt good, him having no idea as you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth with your eyebrows screwed together in euphoria, his ears perking up at the sounds of your sweet little moans and whines the more pressure he applied to it.

and then he got an idea.

as you were distracted getting riled up by his fingers, yuji shoved his other hand under his wet pajama pants and boxers, pulling out his throbbing cock and pumping it a little as his angry tip leaked with every jerk— a drop oozing down and landing right on your nub before rolling over your panties as he breathed out a string of hushed curses.

yuji replaced the hand on your pussy with his cock, his length and tip pushing up in between your sopping cunt and back down, completely soiling your panties with a mix of your arousal and his pre cum as he rolled his hips into you again, you not noticing at all until both of his rough hands came to grip and squeeze over your inner thighs, your eyes fluttering open as you wondered why it felt way better than before, them bulging once you saw his thick long dick slipping and sliding hurriedly against your pussy.

“b—baby!” you moaned breathlessly, but yuji literally could not hear you as his dazed droopy eyes stayed focused on your swollen puss while he continued to rut.

“uh huh..?..” he panted. “what’s wrong sweetheart…”

your words lodged themselves in the back of your throat as a particular rough thrust made you choke and clamp your mouth shut, squeezing your eyes shut in response with your sensitive nub pulsing as you felt yuji’s leaky sticky cum all over you.

“does it— does it feel good?” his eyes finally trailed up to look at you, his already fucked out expression and flushed face forming a yummy pit in your stomach that you recognized as your release whenever you fingered yourself, except that feeling no where near as good as what you felt right fucking now.

“mhm..” you moaned and licked your lips.

yuji’s fingers slid up from your inner thighs and to the straps of your panties, fiddling and playing with them as he rolled his hips like a little perv, his tip at times falling and literally sinking into your gaping virgin hole a bit— your panties a thin stretchy wall that frustratingly stopped his cock from going, slipping back upward instead.

“baby…” he moaned lowly, whispering. “maybe we should just have sex right now…”

you gasped. “right now?! i don’t know yuji my— my parents— and we’ve never—”

he leaned down and sloppily kissed you, speaking in between each smack.

“they’re asleep it’s—” mmphf— “it’s okay—”

yuji already had his middle finger hooked under your wet panties as he started pulling down, you squeaking at the cold breeze hitting your bare clit.

“i want to but— hic!”

he rubbed his tip over your entrance a bit, pooling your juice up.

“what if— what if we get too loud? and they come downstairs—”

he shook his head. “i’ll keep on a lookout pretty don’t worry about it...” he murmured. “you just relax while i pump my cock in, yeah?”

you whimpered, nodding quickly and pathetically as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down flush against your chest, suctioning tiny sucks on his jaw to keep you from moaning the loudest you’ve moaned all night as he started pushing in, yuji’s mind in a literal fucking state of delirium as his dick was finally gonna be buried in your cute pussy after wanting it for so long.

you hiccuped against his jaw, your arms gripping him tighter as he stretched you out so good, feeling a little pinch in your walls that made you spread your legs wider in attempts at alleviating it.

“ohhhh fuckkkk baby—” he moaned loud and you quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

“shhh honey shhh—”

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—”

his voice was muffled against your hand as he pumped deeper, your squeal catching itself in your throat and his body fucking shivering at the way your tight slobbering walls sucked him in without him having to even push, your hole clenching around him and pumping more strings of stray pre cum out inside you.

“my god do that again please do that again—” he panted, reeling his hips back slowly and pushing in at a steady rhythm.

“d—do what?” you panted, your eyes closing in pleasure.

“squeeze— shit!— squeeze me please please—” he begged, pressing wet open mouthed kisses on your cheeks as he licked up your little overstimulated tears.

“like— like this?”

you clenched your hole again and his body jerked, his choked moans huffing in your ear as he rolled and snapped his hips faster.

“mm! yuji my god—” you squealed and he placed a hand over your mouth, the both of you now covering over each others as he proceeded to drill his hips in, the couch squeaking with every messy hit.

your hand tightened over his lips the louder he moaned, your eyes silently pleading with him to be a little quieter, but him too lost in the milking of his cock and the way your fucked out face looked as he couldn’t connect the dots with what you were asking of him, suddenly your blurry brain coming into reasonable consciousness for a second as you became aware of the fact that you weren’t even using protection.

“b—baby—” you muffled against his hand. “we’re not using a— mmm! c—condom we need—”

smack smack smack—

“shit i don’t— i don’t have one sweetheart.” he stifled, and yuji only went faster then, harder and jerky as his awkward virgin hips jolted you up and down on him, your eyes rolling back. “s’okay i’ll just pull out m’kay? i’ll pull out—”

his snappy pace brought your brain back into your previous dumb erotic state, nodding dazedly as he scooched his hand down and shoved his middle and ring finger inside your wet mouth, your tongue slobbering over his digits before your lips lewdly closed around them and sucked.

yuji was not keeping a lookout for your parents.

“oh fuck baby you look so fucking pretty doing that…” he choked. “you look so so pretty under me and taking my dick—”

“mhm..” you moaned around his fingers, drool seeping out of your mouth and down your chin as you felt like you were on the brink of cumming and squelching all over him.

“i’m gonna pull out soon okay? i feel—” pant— “i feel like i’m cumming—”

you pulled back from his fingers with a pop and licked your lips, nodding vigorously as you squeezed your eyes painfully shut, your release washing over you like a prickly wave with your mouth hung wide open and your vision blowing bright white.

but in the midst of you creaming, you accidentally clamped your thighs shut around yuji as he tried to slip his dick out.

“fuck! i can’t—” pant— “baby open your legs please im gonna— fuck fuck fuck!—”

yuji’s cum pummeled inside you and filled you the absolute brim as he gasped and whined in your ear, his balls draining so much of it into you that it took no time at all for it to slip past your hole and onto your couch below, the both of you heaving heavily with your clothes stuck against your sweaty sticky bodies.

“are you—” he swallowed. “are you okay baby? i’m sorry i came inside—”

“it’s okay it wasn’t you—” you tried to regulate your breathing. “it— it was my fault… i trapped you in…”

you sheepishly looked at him and gnawed at the inside of your cheek in shame, your face only making him lazily grin and press a hard loving kiss to your cheek.

“it’s okay. we can figure it out later!”

he peeled away from you and sat up, his softening cock still buried inside as he slowly pulled out and watched the rest of his cum spurt out, taking one of his shaky fingers and collecting some before pushing it back in your hole.

“don’t put it back in yujiiii!” you whined.

“sorry! sorry sorry—” he grabbed your wrist gently and kissed the back of your hand, his pinky cheeks vibrant as he looked at you with a wobbly shy smile. “i— i couldn’t help myself…”

you giggled. “s’okay honey.”

he laid his body back over yours, being mindful not to squish you as he leaned some of his weight on his arms, cutely pecking your puffy lips over and over until he was satisfied with the amount, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck after.

“m’glad my first time was with you yuji…” you murmured into his ear, your words causing his heart to literally bang against his chest as he felt like he was on cloud nine with you underneath him like that.

“i’m glad it was with you pretty.” he pushed, looking into your fucked out eyes with sincerity. “and i hope it stays that way. just my dick.”

you laughed loudly, your hand quickly coming up to cover your mouth as he giggled.

you pecked his nose sweetly and readjusted your hips, your cum covered pussy brushing against his cock again, the blood immediately rushing back to it faster than a speeding fucking bullet.

he traced a loving finger across your bottom lip delicately, a little grin on his face.

you quirked a brow. “what?”

“can we um—“ he quickly kissed you. “can we try doggy style right now?”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree

[fatherbrat]

ONE LAST TIME, R. SUNA

sum. two months into your relationship with your current boyfriend, your ex-fwb finally sends you a voicenote to let you know exactly how he feels about it.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. ex-fwb!suna, cheating, mutual masturbation (kinda lol), jealousy, dirty talk, anal mention, pillow humping, possessiveness, degradation

wc. 1.2k

When you posted your first official pictures of you and your new boyfriend, you had expected Suna to react…negatively. You basically braced for impact the moment you hit post, but all you got from him was an Instagram notification and two texts.

sunarin liked your post.

rin ;)

lmk if you want me to delete our pics.  and hmu when you two break up :p

You never bothered replying, initially not sure how to reply, and then forgetting about the texts entirely. The two of you barely have any contact for a few weeks after that, but he's obviously keeping up with your socials; liking every post and viewing every story. It doesn't bother you, but it's weird going cold turkey on your relationship like that. You had expected him to reach out for some sort of closure. You wanted him to. 

Halloween swings by in no time, and (much to you boyfriend’s dismay) you dress up as a sexy nurse. You don’t remember much of the night, but you do know that you posted a picture of you and your friends all dressed up on your story before getting blackout drunk. 

Your phone dies early on in the night. Your friends take good care of you up until it’s time to bring you back home, and you don’t wake up until the afternoon. You don’t check your phone until a couple hours after that—long after it's been turned on and charged to 100%. 

When you finally check it, two particular notifications catch your attention. 

sunarin liked your story. 

rin ;)

Voice Message

The voice message is 12 minutes long. 

You exit your texts immediately, opting to distract yourself by tending to your other notifications. It doesn’t help much. Your mind races, wondering what he was talking about for so long and if it was really so important that he reached out after almost four months of near-silence. 

You toss your phone onto your bed, shaking your head. You try to ignore it, cleaning the bathroom and folding the laundry and vacuuming the living room all in an effort to forget about the lengthy recording sitting in your phone. 

But it doesn’t take long for the curiosity gnawing at you to win. 

You practically run back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Your fingers move quickly across the screen, hitting play without hesitation. 

The first 8 seconds are nearly silent, and you start to wonder if it’s possible that he sent such a long message by mistake.

But then you hear a heavy sigh.

“I like your costume.” His tone is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. “You look hot.”

There’s another moment of silence, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind and stop listening. 

But then Suna moans and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. 

“You never answered my text, y’know. When I asked if you wanted me to delete our pictures. So, uh, I kept ‘em.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

“I’m looking at one right now. It’s from last Halloween. When you-“ His breath hitches. “When you went as a Playboy Bunny.”

You remember. Suna dressed as Hugh Hefner and the two of you went to a party together. Then he took you back to his apartment and fucked you while you were still wearing the bunny ears and bowtie. 

You’re pretty positive you’re not wearing the bodysuit in the picture he’s looking at. 

“I don’t know how much of this night you actually remember, but I can describe the picture for you.”

You tense, anticipation sending goosebumps up your arms. 

“You’re kneeling on the ground, looking up at the camera, and you’ve still got those bunny ears on your head.”

This voice message is going in the last direction you thought it would.  Is he—?

“You’ve got cum all over your face, baby.” He laughs to himself before continuing. “And you’re sticking your tongue out like a fucking whore.”

Suna takes a ragged breath, a sound you're all too familiar with. It confirms your suspicions—he’s definitely jerking off. 

“That was a good night. We had a lot of good nights.” He sounds miffed all of a sudden. “I seriously doubt the boyfriend is fucking you as good as I did.”

You suppress a shiver. A pang of guilt heats your chest at the mention of your boyfriend. You should stop listening. Delete the message. Tell him to delete the pictures and then probably block him. 

Or you could let the message keep playing. 

Suna inhales sharply, followed by a shaky moan. You swear you can hear the sound of his fist stroking his dick. 

“I hope you’re not letting him put it in your ass like you let me. That’s our thing, okay?”

Under different circumstances you would have laughed. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “And I hope you’re not letting him spit in your fucking mouth. Or–shit–doing that thing where you’d suck me off with your head hanging upside down off the bed.” He falters at the end of the sentence, groaning into the phone.

“I’m not gonna–” he interrupts himself, sighing deeply. “I’m not gonna pretend I’ve been happy for you. I miss you.”

You feel hot all over, a heady combination of annoyance and arousal and embarrassment. There’s a dull throbbing between your legs and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is what Suna wanted when he sent the message. 

“Just–just let me fuck you one more time. Okay princess? I’ll make it sooo good for you,” he whines. You can hear his hand picking up speed.

“It’s still early. Two months is nothing, it won’t even count as cheating.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “God, just one last time. Please?”

Without thinking, you grab a pillow and position yourself over it in a straddle. You won’t let him fuck you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make you come one last time.

“I promise I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue. And you can pick all the positions if you want to.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “Or just lay there. I’ll do all the work.”

You grind into the pillow beneath you, picturing the expression you know he’d be wearing if he were in front of you–batting those dark eyelashes with raised eyebrows, just barely able to control the smug curve of his lips.

Heat pools in your gut and a whimper falls from your lips. Suna keeps talking.

“I know you miss me. You have to. You’re probably touching yourself to this right now.” 

You gasp softly and rock your hips faster.

“Such a fucking slut.” You hear the telltale quiver in his voice that tells you he’s getting close. “My fucking slut.”

You moan, his words giving you flashbacks.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m coming,” he rasps, before letting off a series of moans and whimpers that almost make you concede. You grind harder into the pillow beneath you, imagining Suna in his room, chest heaving, talking into the phone and making himself come to pictures of you. 

That does it. A tsunami of pleasure washes over you, forcing your body to tense before you go limp, collapsing onto your bed with a shudder.

You and Suna breathe in tandem, both of you catching your breath. 

You hear another laugh through the phone. “Damn, that was a lot.” There’s the sound of sheets rustling. “Kinda made a mess, princess.”

He’s silent for another few beats before clearing his throat. “Text me, okay?” he says quietly. “Please.”

The voice message ends.

part two

[cinnammonfairy]

⌗ hybrids – f! cat x doberman ghost! + heat + virginity loss + squirting + implied pregnancy/breeding ⋆˙⟡

where you go into heat, and your not-so-new friend simon helps you.

when price finally brought simon home, you did not take it all too kindly. only familiar with the presence of price and few other hybrids (being a house cat and all, always preferring to stay home), you grew uptight at the new imposing presence at your home. you knew price was only trying to look out for you by gifting you a companion, someone you could cling to when he was away, yet he also knew how shy you were too which could translate to unwelcoming behaviour towards those who are unacquainted with you.

simon having been briefed by price of your shy tendencies played along, preferring to wait until you grew accustomed to his presence around the house. which admittedly took... quite a while. price having been home for the start of simon's stay to get you on friendly terms did little to help, only making you ever so clingier.

when it came to just the both of you within the confines of your home, you avoided him with an admirable amount of effort. he knew it wasn't that you disliked him, you just haven't gotten to know him and how could you when you'd scramble if he walked into a room you were currently in? or if he'd be leaning on the doorframe of your shared bathroom waiting for you to finish your lengthy baths, the scent of your bathbomb wafting through the crack of the doorway your humming gleefully at the warmth of the water clear to his impeccable hearing, doberman hybrid and all does little to quell his ever growing fascination in you.

the week leading up to your heat (not that he knew), was filled with uncommon behaviour from you, once an early riser now you woke later into the day, your sweet scent heightened keeping him alert of your whereabouts throughout the house. your usually energetic self, that always found a way to keep busy around the house also grew tired easier, which was how he found you sprawled out on the couch late at night, a show you were keen on running on the tv. gathering your weak form in his arms, he lifted you up bridal style making sure to cradle your head in his arm.

your eyes opened briefly, jolting awake as you realized who was currently holding you and walking you towards your bedroom, before you gave in to the lethargy that seemed to engulf your body. letting him carry you up the stairs, his scent overwhelming your senses leaving your body the slightest bit feverish.

"i don't feel so good." your words coming out barely more than a whisper into the chilly night air, lights dimmed out due to the hour.

"i can see that, let me take care of you yeah? " his arms wrapping tighter around your form as he rounds the corner to your bedroom, tucking you in, and closing the door softly behind him before placing a call to price.

"...the date of her heats are usually irregular, but she's probably going into one soon." price's voice crackles through the phone speaker, as simon's brow furrows.

"what can i do to help her?" simon's reply earns a small huff from price, who's answer has simon's cock growing hard in his trousers imagining you begging for him.

"you can help her but only if she asks, she probably will though. god knows you feel much better than her dildo does."

the next morning he was greeted with the overwhelming scent of your slick, your warm body atop him, bare tits pressed against his chest, his blanket pushed aside so your wet little pussy could rub on his still covered hard on. every pass of his cock spreading open your pretty pussy, his tip catching onto your clit creating pleasurable friction.

"what's all this about angel? where did my shy girl go hm?"

"m' sorry si, need you..." his hands go to guiding your hips, as they grew sloppier. your wetness creating a patch on his boxers outlining his hard cock.

"s' alright pretty, i've got you." tipping your chin up to meet his gaze as he connects your lips to his, softly pecking them as a form of reassurance. price said to take things slow and he promised to try, you had no qualms kissing him back so sweetly as he cradled your cheek in his palm. with your pussy still rubbing on his cock, he moved you to lay below him lifting his body enough to peel his boxers off.

spreading your legs to expose your wet cunt, little hole twitching and leaking slick. your little clit glistening in the early morning sunrise, as he circles it softly with the head of his cock, dragging it down to your pool of slick and up to nudge against your clit, swiping it back and forth as you writhed on the bed moaning for him to,

"put it in now please si."

"so wet angel, i could just slip right in yeah?"

"'mhm! s' wet for you."

"such a good girl, so pretty for like this for me."

he positions the head of his cock on your hole, the both of you gasping as it enters. all the while rubbing your clit softly with his thumb, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks and lips. your pussy halfway enveloping his fat cock as your legs tremble softly, your hole clenching rhythmically at his intrusion. your hands go to his biceps as you feel the knot in your stomach growing ever so tighter, just from him putting his cock in. you've had a dildo and a couple pleasurable vibrators before to help you through your heat but never an actual cock, the feeling of his big cock entering your practically virgin hole was too much to bear, even more so as he rubbed at your clit so sweetly to build enough pleasure and wetness to take his cock. before you knew it, you were cumming hard on his cock a soft gasp left you as he worked you through your strong orgasm, clenching hard on his fat cock.

"so pretty... that was a nice one hm lovie, that feel good for your little pussy sweetheart yeah? y' love my fat cock stretching out your hole so much you can't help it huh."

"s' too big si..." you sobbed out as his fingers kept strumming your clit, prolonging your orgasm.

"you're taking it so well though sweetheart, i'm almost there baby. you can cum as much as you want angel."

your orgasm which left you wetter than before made it easier for him to ease his cock inside, groaning at your warmth as he bottomed out. he zoned in on where your eyes were currently resting, the filthy sight of your pussy plugged full of his cock as he took a testing shallow thrust, a mewl leaving your lips.

"your pussy's so pretty full of my cock sweetheart, you're taking it so well, 'm so proud baby."

"what do you say sweetheart?" he says, pulling his cock out halfway, watching as his cock slips out coated in your slick and cum.

"thank you si-i!" he slammed his hips once, again filling your pussy up full and catching you off guard.

his thrusts left you breathless as you looked into his eyes, pleading for anything and everything at all once. your current state of heat left your cheeks perpetually flushed which he found charming, your eyes fluttering, for someone who was practically begging to be fucked just this morning, he loved your sweet, shy and soft little mewls. slotting your lips together to meet for a kiss, one that you so kindly and eagerly return, he knows he's found your spot as a sweet little gasp leaves your lips. he rests his forehead to yours as you lock your feet on his back, your pussy clenching erratically as a telltale sign that you were approaching your orgasm.

"wanna cum si!"

"go ahead baby."

pulling out most of the way, he thrusts in to be met by a spurt of clear liquid splashing and splattering onto your stomach, his pelvis and abs. every time he pulls out the slightest bit to slam his cock back in to your tight squirting heat, he earns another splash of clear liquid that's prompted by his thrusts. the hot sight of you squirting uncontrollably whilst crying softly on his cock prompts his own orgasm, and pumping his load into you.

"made such a cute mess on my cock baby hm? my shy angel's a squirter huh?" he says as he pulls his cock out fully, rubbing his cock fast over your clit to be met by more messy squirts, his thick load now seeping out of your little hole.

"m s-sorry si, it's embarrasing." you choke out amidst sobs where he gathers you in his arms, sitting up and places you on top of him. opening your legs to scoop up his leaking cum and shoving back into your hole, which makes you squeal.

"no need to be sorry sweetheart, 'm so glad i made you feel so good."

you hid your face in his neck as you sunk back down on his hard cock, seeing his cum leaking out of your pussy was an extremely erotic sight to him. your heat making you insatiable for the need of another orgasm.

"go ahead sweet girl, ride me baby, use me all you want."

and you do, if it wasn't evident enough with the protruding bump on your belly with a possessive hand resting over it upon price's return wasn't clear enough, you were having simon's pups.

☆ hi omg um this was just like something i spewed out from my brain deliriously over the course of a couple midnights i acc kinda wanna continue it or make a couple parts of it ... haven't rlly made an intro post but i'm planning to soon .ᐟ ♡ also reqs are open but i'm having midterms rn so if you do plan to leave anything on there might not get around to it for a while :(

ᡣ𐭩 header by cafekitsune .

[starpens]

୨୧ㅤִㅤׄ COUGH SYRUP ― GOJO SATORU.

satoru is a bit of an idiot who will do anything to get you to speak to him after an argument.

𓈒 ݁ ₊ content ﾉ fem reader, clingy satoru, established relationship, mild argument, fluff, not proofread, randomly started missing my boy :( <3

satoru can’t function when you’re upset with him. 

he knows he should be an adult about it — he is an adult, after all. he should give you space, let you simmer down. most people do not do things such as send one hundred and fifty text messages (he counted each of ‘em; you left him on read one hundred and fifty two times. who does that?) to your phone while you’re in the middle of grocery shopping and they most definitely do not take a sick day because their significant other is mad at them. 

 but then again, satoru isn’t like most people. 

which is why he’s currently sprawled out on the sofa in the middle of the day, wrapped in your favorite throw blanket — one that still smells faintly of your perfume. tissues litter the coffee table and floor around him, an unconvincing movie set of misery. call him manipulative, but it’s the only thing he’s got left in the tank since, for the last seventy-two hours, you haven’t spoken more than five words in a sentence to him. 

you’re his main source of enrichment, his brain stimulated by your sweet kisses and good loving so when you take that away, you’re stripping away his heart and soul. he’s got nothing left. he might as well die.  

in satoru’s brain, he figures that surely, if he’s coughing up a lung, you’ll feel bad for him and start talking to him again. in sickness and in health, right? 

by the time you walk through the front door after making a quick run to the supermarket for groceries, he’s in full performance mode, clutching his stomach with a groan. 

the sound is so realistic that you feel a sudden stab of worry, wondering if he’s injured. rushing into the living room, you find all six foot three of your boyfriend balled up on the sofa, looking like walking death. 

or trying to, anyway. 

“satoru?” you ask, eyebrows arching as you set your grocery bags down on the floor, taking out your phone and glancing at the time on the lockscreen. “why are you home? it’s eleven am.” 

“baby,” he groans pitfully, looking up at you. his glacier blue eyes are red rimmed and shimmering suspiciously — like he squeezed them shut repeatedly until he got the desired effect. satoru sniffles for good measure, huddling into the blanket. “i’m sick,” he announces, his lower lip wobbling, dragging out the last syllable like it physically hurts him to say it. 

“sick? you seemed fine when i left this morning,” you say, taking a step forward. you reach out a hand, pushing back his wintery locks to check for a fever. his skin feels normal, cool to touch even. your eyes narrow. you’re dubious — satoru never gets sick, yet it is his favorite act whenever he’s in the doghouse and wants attention. that, and he’s a terrible actor. you purse your lips, irritated. this is what he does instead of just apologizing? 

“i wasn’t fine emotionally,” satoru whines back. “i’m heartbroken here. it’s debilitating my health rapidly.” 

your expression doesn’t budge and satoru’s pout deepens when he realizes you’re not buying it. he clutches the blanket tighter around his big body, exaggerating a shiver for good measure. “you’re my life force, angel. my happiness. my —”

“stop it,” you interrupt and hold up a hand, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. you’re mad at him — you are. “but let me get this straight. you called out of work because i wasn’t talking to you?” 

“it was a medical emergency. do you have any idea what it’s like to go hours without hearing you voice?! without seeing you smile at me? you wouldn’t even let me use your body wash last night so we could share the same scent. i barely survived the night. any longer and i’d be a goner,” he sighs dramatically, then remembers he’s supposed to be on his last leg and hacks, phlegm rattling in his throat. 

“you’re obsessed,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to hold firm. but your damned heart has selective memory and it is making an appearance again, rapidly forgetting why you’re still mad at him. oh, you had a right to be upset over what he did, but it seems insignificant now when he’s in front of you, groveling like a servant at a throne. 

“angel, come on,” he presses, sitting up on the sofa and reaching for your hand, hurt flashing bright across his eyes when you step out of range. if you let him pull you down on that sofa with him, he’ll sweet talk his way into you forgiving him without consequences. he’ll do that anyway, but you won’t make it easy for him. “i’ll do anything to make it right.” 

“don’t angel me. you can’t just manipulate me into forgiving you with your big pretty eyes,” you wag your finger at him. “i bet you don’t even know what you did.” 

“i know, but it’s working, ain’t it?” he grins, shamelessly dropping the congested tone in his voice. “and i know what i did,” he scoffs. “you’re mad at me about that thing.” 

yes, that thing.

two nights ago, your body pillow — your very expensive, weighted body pillow which happened to have a giant render of your boyfriend on it, went missing. you’d commissioned it to have something to cuddle with on those nights when satoru is away on business and you miss him in your shared bed an unhealthy amount. you’d become a little too attached to it, though, while satoru wanted nothing more than to burn it. 

“he has a name,” you hiss, swatting satoru’s knee as you struggle not to laugh. “don’t call mr. comf-toru-ble a thing! he’s sensitive.” 

“see?” satoru says, scrubbing a hand over his handsome face before gesturing around wildly. “you even named it.” 

you give him a sharp look. “he cost me an entire paycheck— an entire paycheck that three days ago, you gave to the garbage collectors because i was cuddling him instead of you!” 

“i was feeling neglected!” he defends, voice pitching higher in his affront, placing a hand on his chest. “you spent the whole night with it. meanwhile, i— your husband— was right there, cold and alone. i can’t let me steal my wife.”

“we’re not married, satoru,” you remind him, then pout. “unlike my husband, the pillow doesn’t hog the covers, snore, or throw out things that i really like.” 

“it’s not hogging the covers, it’s redistribution of them for my comfort,” he grins playfully, but upon seeing your serious expression, he concedes, sobering up. in truth, he knows he messed up and went too far. it was childish to throw out something that you bought because of his frequent bouts of absence. maybe if he was around more, you wouldn’t need to cuddle with body pillows that look like him. “look, baby. i’m sorry. it was a moment of weakness. it’s not everyday i gotta be in competition with myself, but i’ll make it up to you! i even ordered you another one.” 

“a moment of jealousy, you mean,” you counter, but there’s no real bite behind your tone now.

“hey, you gotta see it from my perspective though. it’s kind of crazy seeing you cuddle with a pillow that looks like me when the real thing is right here,” satoru gestures down the long line of his body, though it looks more comical than inviting when he’s wrapped like a overstuffed burrito in your throw blanket.

“mm,” you nod, “well, maybe if the ‘real thing’ is a good boy, i’ll cuddle him more often.” 

“deal,” he answers immediately and when his muscular arms shoot out from behind the blanket and reach for you this time, you let him. his arms circle around your waist, pulling you into his lap. it was just a few days of silent treatment, but satoru wastes no time tucking his face against the dip of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent like you’re something precious and rare he lost ages ago and is just discovering again after eons. 

he’s squishing you, he knows it, but god he hates it when you’re mad at him — and you, in return, hate being at odds with him too. you both make too much sense to each other to be apart, and there’s upset in the balance of the world when the two of you are in an argument. 

“worst seventy-two hours of my life,” satoru blows out a breath of relief, the air tickling the hair at the nape of your neck, drawing a shiver down your spine. “never do that to me again, angel. you hear?” 

“don’t throw out my customized satoru merch again and i won’t, baby,” you coo, smiling. 

“you’ll still choose me over the other guy though, right?” 

“we’ll see, ‘toru, we’ll see,” you answer playfully, yelping when he darts in to nip at your ear in retaliation.

getting comfortable in satoru’s lap, you lean in to put the both of you out of your miseries and forgive him with a kiss when you get a whiff of menthol and childhood memories wafting from his chest.

 “are you wearing vaporub?”

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go

[sidereon-spaceace]

boy howdy that dream was a doozy

[finelinevogue]

pretty boy

summary - the team is out for drinks and people can’t stop hitting on your boyfriend

pairing - spencer reid x bau!gf

word count - +1k

“He’s so hot.”

“Ugh that hair!”

“He is so kissable.”

You had only been at the bar for an hour and you’d already hit your limit for the amount of women that have hit on your boyfriend.

The worst thing about it, is that Spencer is so oblivious to it that you feel silly for being even a little bit jealous.

You were currently at the bar ordering some drinks and were listening to a group of girls lust after your boyfriend, who was currently sitting with the rest of the team in a booth.

“I mean seriously… he looks like he’d know how to please a woman.” One of them said.

You gave the girls a brief look to make sure you weren’t making things up in your head and to your dismay they were all looking Spencer’s way. Curse him for sitting at the end of the booth.

You then looked back to Spencer who was listening intensely to something Rossi was saying.

He did look good. Like, really good.

He’d recently had a haircut that made him look that little bit older, whilst also keeping that youth. Hotch had told him he looked like he was part of a boy-band, which in a way he did. The hot one, if he was.

You loved his new hair. It was so fluffy and soft. Perfect to run your hands through.

It just irked you that other people were thinking the same thing. And so openly.

He was even extra handsome tonight with his work clothes on. It was hot so he had taken off his waistcoat, so it was just his shirt - which he had rolled the sleeves up on - his loose tie and his fitted trousers.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” One of them said, making you tense up.

You wished the bartender would hurry up so you could go back and sit next to Spencer already. You trust Spencer more than anything - but it was these girls you didn’t trust.

“Oh my God. Never mind. He’s coming over here. How’s my hair?”

You thanked the bartender as he placed the drinks on a circular tray in front of you.

The girls were all nervously excited next to you.

Until they weren’t.

Because you felt Spencer slide up behind you, resting one of his hands at the bottom of your spine and the other placed on the bar edge.

“You okay?” He asked, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as you swayed your body into his.

Spencer was standing perpendicular to you so it gave you the opportunity to rest the side of your head on his chest. It allowed you to just breathe him in as if it were just you and him in the room.

You nodded slowly, not really knowing how else to answer.

“Need help with these?” He asked, tapping the tray.

“Please.”

“M’kay. I’ll get these. You grab some straws.”

You were sad when his hand left your back to reach for the tray of drinks. You also really wanted to take Spencer away from these girls though.

Before you could both go back, one of the girls touched Spencer on his forearm and questioned him.

“Excuse me, are you two together?” She asked, only looking at Spencer for the answer. It was almost as if you were invisible.

“Uh, yeah. We are.” Spencer gave a polite smile.

“Oh.” She said, surprised.

Spencer didn’t respond and neither did you. He just smiled before nudging you to keep walking.

Once you were out of their earshot he asked, “That was weird right?”

“Yeah.” It was your turn to give him a small smile this time, keeping your head down as you returned to the booth.

<.><.><.>

The atmosphere had changed.

You had felt good at the start of the night - an hour ago - but now everything felt a little different.

It no doubt had everything to do with the girls that had been surprised that Spencer was dating you. Also it didn’t help that Spencer still looked great and was gaining more and more hungry eyes.

You sipped your drink even though you weren’t interested in having a good time any more. You wanted to be alert in case you needed to be for Spencer’s sake.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Spencer said.

He was still sat on the end of the booth, but he had one arm tucker over the back of the booth and down around your shoulder to keep you pressed close to him. For someone who was okay with not fully understanding social interactions, he had always done a perfect job of being with you.

The rest of the team were talking and laughing over drinks.

“It’s okay.” You shook your head.

“It’s not if it’s bothering you.” Spencer argued.

“It’s silly.”

You looked from the team to the rest of the bar where people were still looking Spencer’s way.

Damn, why did he have to be so attractive?

You weren’t sure how to approach the subject with Spencer though. He was too sweet to take his gaze off you for even a second to notice how many gazes were on him. It wasn’t even a him problem. Good for him for looking so pretty, but it was just difficult trying to be okay with the extra attention that him being pretty came with.

It sounded so stupid and it didn’t even make sense to you, so it was impossible trying to think of how to bring it up to Spencer.

“Is it the case?” Spencer asked.

You sighed, “No.”

“Did I do something? I feel like that’s quite likely.”

You shook your head, feeling yourself getting worked up about this.

Spencer’s arm pulled you further into his body and his other arm detached from his drink so he could rest his palm on your thigh.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“You’re not ruining my night. I just don’t like seeing you upset.”

“I know.”

“Well, you tell me when you want to leave and we’ll go okay?”

“Okay.”

<.><.><.>

Spencer was brushing his teeth when you blurted out those three words.

“Sorry if I was weird tonight.” You apologised, finishing off your nighttime routine in Spencer’s apartment.

He mumbled something along the lines of ‘it doesn’t matter’, but it was hard to tell when he had a mouth full of toothpaste.

Your chest heaved heavy breaths as you watched him with adoration.

He looked so soft and homely standing in his bathroom, brushing his teeth in his pyjamas with you. He was just so damn perfect and it was because of that that you had to tell him.

“It was your hair!” You blurted out before you could control yourself.

“Huh?” He questioned with a mouthful of toothpaste still. He took a brief glance to the mirror to check his hair before turning back to you.

“Your hair! I think it’s made you really hot. N-not that you weren’t hot before Spence but- oh my god, what am I saying?” You let out a shaky breath before continuing, “I was jealous okay? Really jealous because everyone at that bar was staring at you like they wanted you and I-I know you and me are— and you would never— and I — but I just…

Spencer spat out his toothpaste.

“Y/N…”

“I couldn’t stop thinking that like you’re mine and what right did they have to chat you up, let alone look at you that way? I mean—.”

“Babe…”

“I love you, okay?!” You proclaimed. You stood there in shock for a moment, not knowing where to take this now that you’d announced that.

“Y/N…”

“I do.” You nodded rapidly, “I do, I really do love you a-and I think it really hit me tonight when I saw you being loved on by all those other women.”

Spencer dropped his toothbrush and took a step towards you.

“All of that tonight was because you love me?” He questioned, trying to wrap his head around this.

“I think so, yeah.”

You pulled the sleeves of your jumper down over your hands as something to fidget with. You were growing nervous now for Spencer to say something.

“Well that makes sense.” He nodded, “I.. I think that means I love you too.”

“Really?” You asked, eyes wide as you watched him figure things out for himself.

“Yeah. I mean… I was frustrated as you sounded at all those men looking at you all night. It was driving me crazy.”

“People looking at me?” You frowned.

“You were the prettiest person in the room.”

“Spence…” You pouted, feeling your eyes tear with happy emotions.

You can’t believe that he had been feeling the exact same as you all this time. All it would have taken was a conversation earlier to talk things through and you both wouldn’t have been feeling so vulnerable.

“I love you, Y/N, even though I’m telling you in the most un-romantic setting.”

“You’re wrong. This is like the most romantic it could be for me.” You smiled and looped your arms around his neck. You felt his come around your waist.

“This?”

“Yeah. You, me and a little bit of toothpaste. That’s all I need to know that I love you.”

“And my hair.”

“Huh?”

“I distinctly remember you talking about how hot my hair was before…” He chuckled and you thumped your forehead down on his chest to escape the embarrassment.

“Stop.”

“No, never. Just like I’m never getting another haircut.”

You lifted your head at that, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him with heart eyes.

“I could live with that.” You smiled.

Spencer stayed looking at you for a few moments.

You could tell he was taking a minute to process everything as well as continue to study every little feature on your face. You prompted him to say something when he stared a little too long though.

“Just like seeing you smile. That’s all.” He said.

It was as simple as that.

You both loved each other. You both loved seeing each other smile. To keep that a forever kind of thing you would have to promise communication and accept there’ll be moments of jealousy. Those moments will be made better though when you remind each other that it’s each other you’re going home to.

[teaboot]

Its been a rough couple days out here so I'm writing a list of things I love about my son

(who is cat)

His dumb little face

His pretty yellow eyes

Every day when I get home the FIRST thing that happens is I scoop him up into my arms like a big baby and he let's me rub his tumtum for a whole two minutes!! Before returning to Bite Mode

The SECOND thing that happens is he gets the zoomies! When his father returns from work he goes SNUGGLE! then zooooooom. Because he is excited for me to play with him!!

When I play computer games he likes to feel included so even though he isn't normally very touchy he lets me scoop him up in one arm so he can sit there like a toddler and watch the screen

He trusts me SO much like if he wants up on a shelf or down off something tall I can just walk over and kneel and he'll crawl up or down me like a ladder and I've never had a cat do that before

He'll ride around on my shoulders when I take him out for walks which van be tricky now that he's big but he's so brave even when we pass a dog

Sometimes when I go to run his chin he gets SO EXCITED he'll jam his nose into my palm and smush it hard like he's trying to burrow a hole in the ground and it's adorable

He loves water-appliances? Like sinks and toilets and baths and such. He gets SO excited every time I turn on a faucet, he'll rush over and get as close as he can to watch without getting wet.

His favourite part of the whole house is the bathtub and whenever I take a bath he'll drape himself over the side and lounge there until I get out. He's not allowed in when I'm using the toilet but once I'm done I open the door to leave and he rushes in to check if I've been taking a secret bath without him, goes straight to the tub

In trying to teach him not to bite me, he has learned that he IS allowed to bite blankets. So if he really, really wants to play and I'm ignoring him, he'll bite me blankets and whip them around like a puppy playing tug-of-war.

If I'm ignoring him because I am ALSEEP, this sometimes results in me waking up because he has successfully pulled my blankets off of me.

He likes watching trucks. He'll sit in the window and watch traffic but if he hears a loud engine he'll RUSH to check it out.

When he was a baby, my brother would visit in the afternoons to feed and play with him while I was working. As a result, he loves his uncle more than me, and will allow constant tummy rubs

Because my brothers and I do family movie night at my place, and because he loves his uncles so much, he lights up whenever the doorbell rings and MUST greet visitors at the door.

Sometimes he tries to climb up a door by hugging the edge and jumping as high as he can. It has never worked but he still keeps trying. I think he just likes sliding down like it's a firepole.

He is obsessed with the smell of McDonalds french fries. He doesn't try to eat them, he just wants the box. There us currently one under my bed that I'm not allowed to throw away. I can hear him jamming his face into it right now.

Sometimes when he's curious about something I'm doing- eating, drinking, washing up, whatever- I'll let him sniff, and I'll just hear two or three strongass HUFF. HUFF sounds before he goes back to chilling. It's the cutest shit.

He's soft like the luxurious wild mink

His littol baby FEETSIES

Sometimes he stops grooming himself and forgets his tongue is sticking out

His laser toy has a keychain attachment that jingles so whenever he hears a metallic jingle like that he thinks it's playtime

when I wash my face in the bathroom in the morning he hops on top of the toilet tank and starts grooming himself like "Oh hey I guess it's EVERYBODY'S bath time okay"

He's chatty and will meep back and forth with me

He has a round little wicker nest bed on a pedestal in my room and he likes to climb inside at night and make biscuits on the cushion while he sucks on the corner and it makes me wanna cry he's such a big baby

He will not wake me up for breakfast but as soon as I move in thevmorning he'll hop up onto my chest and stare at me. If I take too long to get up he'll meep in my face and then bounce back and forth between me and the door until I'm up.

Once I AM up, he will circle me and continue chirping until I ask him if it is time for dinner. Dinner, as far as he knows, is the only word for food. As soon as I ask, "is it dinner time?" He will zoom to the kitchen like a bat out of he'll and wait beside his bowl.

He genuinely seems to enjoy walkies and will climb into his carrier if he thinks we're going somewhere

Soketimes he'll pick up one of his toys and trot around with it like he's showing it off and I swear to God every time it makes me wanna make the most embarrassing noises

Him son ♡

[undercvrfan444]

“Baby, what are you doing?”

Satoru sprawled lazily over the plush couch in your cozy living room, some silly show playing in the background. The sun had set hours ago allowing for the moon to peak out between thin clouds.

Soft light emitting from the TV highlighted every dip and ridge of the man below you. Satoru’s chest rose and fell with each breath passing through his lungs.

Currently, two of your smooth hands run over the hard muscles that sculpted your boyfriend’s abdomen, white hair trailing down his navel until it disappears beneath the waistband of his sweats. With a small pout on your face, you pinch at one of the lower abs eliciting a small groan in pain from Satoru. “It isn’t fair! You eat whatever you want and somehow still end up shredded.”

You knew Satoru worked out, but seeing his body for the first time kind of put into perspective the quiet strength he held. Before you two started dating he would always tease you about being weaker than him but for some reason it didn’t register how strong he was until you had your hands on him.

The only part that aggravated you about having jacked boyfriend was seeing all the junk he ate. Somehow it seemed to be completely defective in taking away from the beautiful tone of Satoru’s body.

Don’t even get started on this man’s arms. Oh fuck you’d bury your face in the thick muscles there and never give yourself room to breathe again.

A pale hand comes to pinch your cheek playfully. “What do you want me to do about that? I can’t help how my body works baby girl.” A low snicker dances on Satoru’s lips as he moves to pull you further into him.

Besides! You’d never ACTUALLY be upset your hunk of a man for being this handsome. Right?