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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.

and then satoru wins.

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.

and then you remember.

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do.

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.

his breath hitches.

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko��except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort.

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow.

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.

finally, for once, you’re enough.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #geto angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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arsonlookers · 4 months ago

Text

Unrequited?

Aventurine x Drunk jealous Fem! reader

warnings: supposed unrequited, alcohol intake, angst to comfort, jealous reader, drunk reader, a lot of kissing, teasing, no beta we die like Folcalor

Aventurine had invited you to join him at the local bar, dressed in his usual attire designed to captivate attention. Little did he know that your reluctance to help stemmed from your own hidden desire, secretly wishing it was you that he sought.

"come on," Aventurine whined, his voice laced with a playful tone that you knew all too well. "Can't you lend a hand to your dear friend in need? All I'm asking is for a small favor. Just ask her for her number, that's all!"

"no" You said looking at him clearly pissed off

"Come ooonnn! I only ask you for this sort of thing a couple times. Just step up and take control already! It's not difficult, I swear. All you have to do is ask her, and bam, we've got her number. What's so hard about that?"

"a Lot" you mumble under your breath but he does not heard about that so you rolled your eyes and say

"….why do you need her number anyways"

"Why do I need her number?" Aventurine says in a mock-offended voice, and you notice the faintest hint of a smirk on his face. "Well, let's just say that I'm interested in her. I'm planning on asking her out, if that's not too much to ask."

As you heard this you just kept your silence and stared at him inside clearly heartbroken by what he previously said

"I'm just going to go walk over to her and see if I can't get her number… and you just watch," Aventurine says in a self-assured tone. "And when I succeed, you'll see me as a total stud." he says with smug in it

You sigh and says " if you lose then You will grant me one wish"

inside your heart, you wished for his loss any Gods above, you are already begging to let you win against him once...Just once...

Aventurine pauses, considering what you have just said. He then chuckles and says, "I like it. Deal! But just remember… I'm going to win this. Just watch me." he says with pride in his voice so sure that he will win this bet

"…. wish you not" you mumble under your breath

Aventurine laughs and then exclaims, "So you concede defeat already, eh? No, no… not this time. I'm going over there to win her over!"

Aventurine then strides confidently toward the girl you've both been talking about.

And you did nothing but sit on the stool and couldn't do a thing to stop him as he walked far away from you and approached another woman to entertain himself with.

You stand up and go to your own private room which the two of you shared.

all you can do is sit down and drink to your heart's content only with the feeling of bitterness, jealousy, and heartache swirling inside your chest. evident to your face as how much pain you are feeling right now so to distract yourself you drink, Drink, DRINK, DRink one after the other feeling tipsy from the alcohol but you don't care you just want to forget these feelings you harbor for the blonde and how much pain he has caused inside your heart just by asking other woman's number

After a few minutes, Aventurine returns and enters the private room with a grin on his face. He says, "Well, I certainly didn't make it easy for myself, but she finally gave me her number. Now I can finally call her whenever I want."

he was stunned by the side once he arrived in front of you. You have already drunk 4 bottles of Rum displayed by your table and a half-empty one occupying your left hand.

Seeing you drowned in alcohol, Aventurine's playful mood immediately changes to one of genuine concern. He walks over to you gently takes the drink from your hand, and with concern in his voice, asks, "… are you alright?"

Aventurine says as he takes a seat next to you.

"none of your concern but heyy~ you won haha" You look at the side, with a tone of mocking him in the last words. trying to hide the pain of heartbreak by just listening to him ramble about another woman.

"Yeah, I definitely won," Aventurine says with a smirk, ignoring the mocking tone. "But, come on, are you really alright? You've been drinking a lot. I'm just asking out of concern."

"yeah yeah haha" drunk slurs in every word leaves in your mouth not even caring about what he is saying

he looks at you intently and decided

"Alright, that's enough." Aventurine takes the drink from your hand, placing it off to the side. "You've had enough drinks for the night. You're practically drunk and not even making sense. Just listen to me and stop drinking so much, alright?"

"heyyyyy!! thats mine!!" You tried to get the drink out of his hand "Don't take it away!! Thatss Mine!!!"

he pushes you away with his right hand to distance you away from his physique and the bottle in his left hand.

"I'm taking it away because you have had too much to drink," Aventurine says firmly. "Just… please listen to me and stop drinking so much. You've already had a lot, and I'm getting concerned about your health…"

"health? hahaha better of dead hahaha~ so give me that !! AND LET ME FORGET!!!" You sound desperate you want to forget about this pain and the idea of him being taken away at least you want to express yourself once for him but here you are being taken away from your pleasure, the medicine/cure of your sad heart.

"Not gonna happen. You need to sober up, no more drinks for you," Aventurine says, his voice now taking on a tone of authority. He quickly moves the drink even further away from your reach and shakes his head in disappointment. "Come on… you're being really stubborn. Drinking is never the answer to your problems…"

You glared at him with hatred

You stubbornly reached out for the drink not even listening to all his banter as you tried to reach out you slipped and made both of you fall to the ground making the bottle shatter into pieces and the drink spill all over, but the most concerning part is that you were sitting in a position straddling his stomach as he falls in his back fall flat under you.

Aventurine notices the blood slowly trickling down alongside your cheek, and his heart skips a beat in concern. He quickly grabs his handkerchief to wipe away the blood, and asks quietly, "… are you alright? The glass cut your face, didn't it? You're bleeding…"

"stop being concerned" Hiccup* you said apathetically trying so hard not to fall for him harder than you already have, all you can see right now is a pretty boy concerned for your wellbeing under your body being pressed by your thighs.

"I can't help it, though," Aventurine says, a look of worry and concern still on his face as he attempts to clean away more of the blood with a napkin. "I care for you, you know? I can't just let you get cut by some broken pieces of glass. That's dangerous…"

"no you…dont" HIccup* "you…dont care at alllll" Your drunkly accurate self already breaking persona and ready to express everything and anything now. too drunk to think twice about what you are about to say next. not after seeing him under you of course~

"Don't say that…" Aventurine says, his tone becoming more serious as he attempts to wipe away the blood with the napkin, which is doing little to clean up the wound. "I do care… even when you're like this, I care. It hurts me to see you hurt yourself like this…"

"stop" you said not believing one word coming from his mouth

he looks at you straight in the eyes

"But it's true, I do care…" Aventurine says, his voice growing softer in tone as he finishes wiping away the remaining blood from your face, and then he reaches up to feel the cut on your cheek.

you mumble your words of concern, your pain, your sorrow but he doesn't understand one bit of your rambling without even noticing that you are just talking to yourself.

"You make no sense at all," Aventurine sighs as he places his hand on the top of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

"Can't be me? hiccup*" This time he can hear you and understand you fine

he looks at you confused by what you want to say to him. intently and patiently listening to you.

"hiccup* is that all am I? Hiccup*" As you keep talking with your words, it keeps getting cut off by you, so he ends up not understanding what you wanted to mean.

tears fall from your eyes as all feelings are just all around the place wanting to get out the burden you have been feeling all this time the feelings you always wanted to express since the day he started to just randomly ask other girls numbers in your face " Hiccup* why can't I hiccup* be her? or other Hiccup* not Hiccup* your Hiccup* type?"

Aventurine becomes silent and is taken aback by your tearful and emotional response. The last thing he ever expected to happen was for you to start crying that hard. He quickly looks up at you in surprise, and he says quietly, ".. are you really feeling that way? Are you... jealous?"

"mmmmnoot jelouuuushh" You tried to denied with your slurs and drunkness

"You sound jealous…" Aventurine says, his voice becoming softer in tone once again as he reaches up to run his fingers through your hair. "You sound like you really wish you could be her… that you wish you were in her position… that it was you who caught my attention… not her…"

"huhhhhhhh??? nooooot jeloushhhh" this time you reallyy tried hard to deny his words "No! Imm Notsss"

"Why not just admit it? You really are jealous aren't you?" Aventurine says with a slight chuckle, his tone now taking on a teasing and playful note. "That's not such a bad thing, you know? I mean, you could have feelings for me… maybe even…"

you look at him actually pouting in his words "anddd wh Hiccup* what if I hiccup* am"

"Well, if you are in fact jealous… then that can only mean one thing, right?" Aventurine asks with a teasing and playful tone as he leans forward, his face just a few inches away from yours. "You like me… don't you?"

"bassshhhtarrrd" was all you can come up with as panics sets inside your drunken brain because of how close he is with you

"Come on, you can't fool me. I can see it in your eyes. What were all those tears about, anyway? Were you really that sad that you couldn't be close to me? That you weren't the person that I was flirting with?" he said with a tone of As a matter Of Fact

"sooooo whattthhh hmmm???" you glared at him drunkenly and pushes you pointy finger into his chest

"Oh, so you do like me?" Aventurine says with a smug and teasing grin. "I knew it… so then… does that mean you actually want me to pick you over her? Do you really want to be the one I give my attention to?"

"you wonnnttt do that anywayyyy" you mumble with slurs but he still understands your uncoherent words [a miracle if you tell me]

"And why is that?" Aventurine asks with a smirk, his tone becoming more teasing and playful. "You think I would choose some random woman over someone as special as you?"

"didnt youu justtt doo thattt that" you pouts

"Huh, fair point, but that was different…" Aventurine says with a sly smile on his face, leaning in even closer to you now. "See… you and I are more… well, let's just say we have known each other far longer than I have known her. And you're more fun to be around. I actually want to get to know you more, you know? I want to be with you, not her…"

Looks at him not believing his words at one bit, kind of a glare half a stare

"Okayyy, fine. Fine, fine, fine. Yeah, I flirted with her first and got her phone number. But that's not important. What's important is that she's not you. Don't you see what I'm saying?"

Aventurine smiles and leans in a few inches more, his soft breath tickling your cheek.

You push him back by the palm of your hands away from your face

"meannniii you triedd to make me asked her numberrrrss!! " You said incoherently too drunk to care for grammar and how you sound since this time you are starting to become desperate to let your feelings out

He looks at you puts his hands on yours the one you put in his face and holds them tight

"Well, there's a reason for that…" Aventurine replies with a smug grin, his eyes twinkling playfully. "You see, I was trying to get you to talk to her and get her number. But that was to see how you would react. I… I did it to get a reaction from you, you know? Did you really think someone as smart as me would really have you ask for her number? I knew you would get jealous… and that I could finally get that admission of affection from you…"

"You're mean!!!! " You shouted a little and pouted at him

He looks at you thinking you are really acting adorable right now

"bllehhhh" you stick out your tongue and said "dont like you"

"Oh, is that so? Because I could swear you were just drunkenly confessing your feelings to me earlier," Aventurine says with a knowing smirk, placing his hand on the side of your cheek. "Tell me… what would I have to do to have you admit that you like me? Would I need to… kiss you?"

"A kiss from you!!! is not enough!!" but you can feel your face heating up not from the alcohol but from the thought that he suggest kissing you to make you forgive him ... To Kiss You... */////* you feel like dying right now.

"Really?" He sounds teasing and he finds your blushing Soooo cute he just wants to bite you! or more~

"My kiss is not enough?" He repeated what you said to clarify with a knowing smirk on his face

You nod blushingly not wanting to look at him at all

He puts his hand on your cheeks to make you look at him hazily

"So You want more~ than a kiss from me?" This time he is clear about his intentions he looks at you longingly wanting answers and wants to hear you say it ' I WANT YOU'

waiting patiently for you, On the other hand, you are just processing what he just said you don't know what type of answer he wants but you blatantly said what first comes to your mind

"I-" Before you can even say a word he grabs your wrist pulls you in for a kiss and puts his hand on the back of your head so that you wont be breaking the kiss soon.

he deepened the kiss by licking and biting your bottom lips asking for an entrance as he keeps his gaze with yours.

inside, you already feel sober enough to know what's going on, you can feel yourself starting to want and desire more, feeling flustered and lost in belief on everything, you parted your lips for him to enter and enjoy you.

As you parted your lips he didn't waste more time and deepened the kiss more, swirling his tongue with yours and exploring your mouth.

Feeling breathless and flustered you wrapped your arms around his neck and also deepened the kiss like he did, you pulled him in closer. Your hands tangle with his hair and also wrap and twirl his hair on your fingers, at the same time tugging on it.

"mmm~" hearing your moans Aventurine feels more motivated to make you feel and hear from you. Any melody that comes out from you that he caused, he loves to hear and feel it.

He breaks the kiss a while later but never loosens his grip on the back of your head, as his other hand starts to wander around your hips and back.

his touches makes you shivers and shudder which he notices and smirked on, his eyes never leaving your flustered face.

"so beautiful," he says breathlessly

You stared unto his, magenta and cyan eyes with black-slitted pupils.

And he stared back, not breaking contact, and admired your eyes like it's the most beautiful color he has ever seen.

"what? did you fall for me a second time, darling?" he smirked and had this teasing tone in his voice as he chuckles.

You stared at him, and your eyes scanned his face, realizing how sweat fell by the side of his face, how his hair stuck to his forehead because of the sweat, how ragged and uneven his breaths were, and how he kept looking at you with that smirk. how beautiful he is right in front of you right now.

"yes" you said quietly admitting how you could feel your heartbeat fasten and how attractive he looked right now.

After a while of staring you rested your head on his shoulder hiding how red your face was.

he chuckles and also nuzzles his face on your shoulder "you're so adorable right now, darling" he mumbles

Aventurine can hear his own heartbeat and how he feels so hot against you, he loves you too much... he was just teasing you and wanted you to confess first but right now he can't wait anymore. You are making this hard for him, to act nonchalant and unbothered.

he sighed and pulled you off, now staring at you he kissed your cheek and licked your injury a while ago.

By this action, you can feel your heartbeats take pace. after he pulled that off You touched your reddened cheeks and said flustered "Why? why so sudden?"

he chuckles "Hahahahaha, you are so cute right now, darling" He has this genuine smile you have never seen over the years the two of you are together as partners.

this widens your eyes and makes you flustered more.

"Please, stop teasing me" you hide your face with your hands trying to shy away

he touches your hands and wrist just to pulled it off and pulled you in for another unexpected kiss this time gentle and soft.

you close your eyes and feels his lips against yours, after the gentle kiss breaks you look him in the eye and confessed

"I love you, aventurine" This time feeling super sober

he chuckles back with the gentle smile you have never seen before, he touches your face and puts his forehead against yours.

He looked you in the eye and said "I know silly..."

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, he opens his eyes again and this time pulled you for another kiss gently.

Feeling your lips against his, your soft lips against his. He will treasure this moment, forever.

He breaks the kiss and looks you in the eye.

"I love you too, silly partner" he chuckles as his eyes shines the brightest that night

You can feel his heartbeat in sync with yours, maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the lights playing tricks on you, or maybe... no....this is genuine, you wish this is not a dream.

So you did the most reasonable thing you can think right now.

You kiss him, pulling him in more, feeling him more as your hands venture everywhere on him, from his head to his face and down to his neck and shoulder.

And so does he, He pulled and didn't resist your touch and lets you take actions as he sees fit.

his hands travels on you, from twirling your hair to touching your body and starts to get down to your waist and hips down to your thigh.

The kiss became heated and heated ragged breaths and unstable touching all over each other's body.

As the two of you continued being intoxicated with each other's touch, the night was young for the two of you.

It seems like no one will be disrupting your passionate night anytime soon, all who would dare enter the room and disturb you two will surely be punished.

And so does tomorrow and other days to come.

After a very so passionate night with Aventurine- I mean Kakavasha, he actually told you his real name, so that It would be the name you would be screaming all night long and so would other nights to come.

"You're all mine tonight and forever, darling~...I love you..." He said as he gave you his and your release that night~.

©2024arsonlookers: do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site. [reminders, please try to prevent any accident or drinking too much alcohol, I don't recommend or encourage anyone drinking alcohol may you be in young age or older, try to prevent it as much as possible]

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ashlinxsloves · 3 months ago

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-Gimme All Your Lovin'- <Sam Winchester/Reader>

Tags: Sam Winchester/you, Sam Winchester, slight age gap!, Sam's like 24 & the reader is 18, so season 3 Sam, kind of a sibling dynamic?, but not really, Sam knows the reader has a crush on him, kinda self-indulgent lol, I was a Sam girly before Dean and Cas ok?, no y/n, bear with me while I write this, I am having a surge of motivation to write, we all pretend that Dean didn't die at this part, Dean is mentioned, slight change of plans, there might be a bit of angst lol, I don't know how that happened, but oh well.

Summary: You were starting to gain feelings for Sam, and you didn't know what to do about it. It was beginning to strain your relationship with him..

Notes: You read the tags, you know what you're in for :] this is purely self-indulgent lol... We have Sassy Sammy though ;3 Also, semi-beta read, I was on auto mode when writing this lolol

Word count: 3.1k

Title from Gimme All Your Lovin' by ZZ Top

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"Can we not turn the music on right now..? I'm tryna look for a case here," Sam looks at you with a tired expression. He was in the backseat, skimming through a newspaper.

"Don't be a sourpuss, Sammy. Let the kid put on some tunes, maybe then it'll loosen you up enough to get that stick out of your ass," Dean snickered, nodding at you as you turned on some Bon Jovi, making Sam groan in annoyance when you turned the volume up.

"Come on, Sammy, don't be a killjoy and enjoy the music," you pouted, clearly trying to rile him up. He rolled his eyes going back to the newspaper. You watched him from the rear-view mirror, admiring how dopey yet handsome he looked in the backseat, focused on looking for a case.

Dean elbowed you, causing you to look away from Sam and at him, giving you a 'you're staring for too long' look. You cleared your throat awkwardly, face turning into a pinkish hue, making Dean chuckle. Sam looked up from the paper, confused yet curious about what was happening in the front seat.

You accidentally made eye contact, making you turn even more red, turning the volume of the music louder to try and cover up the awkward tension. Sam sighed, not expecting you to turn on the music any louder.

While listening to the music, you zoned out thinking about some of your past hunts with Sam and Dean - well, you're mostly thinking about Sam and the times he saved your ass from becoming mince meat from the monsters you've fought. You know you shouldn't have grown a crush on him but it's not like you could control it! Sam was kind, tall, smart and protective. You just had to be a sucker for guy's like that huh..?

But Sam only saw you like a little sister and you knew that. The ruffles on the head, motivating you and supporting you was out of brotherly love. Nothing more, nothing less.

The car stops, taking you out of your trance, and Dean pulls over at a diner, "I'm gonna go take a leak and get some pie, don't do anything nasty while I'm gone," he winked at you, causing you to groan and shooting him a glare. Once he left, the car was filled with Dean's music playing softly in the background and the newspaper rustling every time Sam changed a page.

Out of pure habit, you started to pick on the skin of your nails - it was a thing you usually did when you were overthinking. Sam seemed to notice, grabbing your left hand before it started bleeding.

Sam checked on your fingers, his touch making you nervous as you pulled your hand away, your heartbeat quickening, "I'm fine, Sammy.."

You grumbled, pulling your knees up to your chest. He wasn't really convinced but let it go for now. Sam knew of your feelings, but he just wasn't over Jess. That type of hurt took time to heal and you knew that. You both did.

"Just stop picking at it, okay? I don't want you to bleed," he said your name in a soft tone, making you look at him. He had a small warm smile, his head tilted to the side - it made him look like a cute puppy, and it made your heart swell. You just gently nodded, quietly waiting for Dean to come back.

Once you got to a motel, you plopped your duffle bag on the bed, groaning tiredly... why did you have to gain these feelings for Sam?

It was frustrating, but you couldn't do anything about it. You were just a kid in his eyes. Or what you told yourself at least.. there was just no way he'd actually gain feelings for you.

Deciding to take a quick shower, you got your towel from your bag, not trusting the towels they gave you at the motel. Before you could enter the bathroom though, someone knocked on your door, making you pause. Opening the door, your breath slightly hitched when you saw Sam, his hair damp, smelling like soap and citrus.

"Oh, uh, hey– what's up?" you asked the tall male in front of you while letting him into your motel room.

"Just checking in on you... wanted to make sure you were okay," he murmured, his voice gentle as he sat down on your bed before noticing that you were holding your towel and shower products, "Oh– were you about to shower? I could leave and come back later-"

"No- no, no, no.. you're good," you smiled at him, hanging your towel on a nearby chair and the shower products on a table. You sat on the further corner of the bed, avoiding sitting near him while you were still frustrated with your current feelings for the caring dumbass who was in your room right now, smelling like fresh squeezed citrus and leather, with his hair sticking to his forehead from how damp it was.

Sam could feel that there was something wrong with you, but he wasn't sure how he should address it. Something just tugged at his chest when he saw you picking on your nails like you did in the car, being so closed off like you used to when you two first met.

"Sam, this is.." Dean introduced you to Sam about one and a half years ago, your father dying on one of the hunts you were involved in. You knew Dean from the past hunts he was in with you and your dad, and when you called him, voice hoarse and heaving he knew something was wrong. When he found out your father had died from saving you, his heart clenched, knowing that you'd be carrying this with you for your whole life, blaming yourself for his death. Dean knew you didn't have other family members present in your life, your mother abandoning you from a young age, leaving you with your father.

He understood how you felt – losing a parent to a monster- well, demon in his case, but he knew the feeling all too well. So, he took you in and you taught the ropes more thoroughly, making Sam teach you what they both knew. It was pretty easy to teach you since you already knew the basics but sometimes Sam felt like something was missing when you listened and paid attention to what he was saying.

Sam noticed how quiet and how you kept to yourself a lot and when you would start opening up, you immediately closed up like a clam. Dean explained the situation to him and Sam understood immediately what he had to do. And from that day, he tried his best to get you to get out of your shell, get you to open up and let your guard down around him. It was hard but worth it. You were worth it.

That's when Sam realized how expressive and passionate a person you were. The way you talked fondly about the things you liked, about random facts you learnt from your father and how fondly you remembered your old man. He felt special somehow, that he made you cope with the death of your father in more healthy ways than keeping emotions buried deep inside you.

"You know... I always think about how closed off you were when we first met," Sam started, not knowing where he was going with this, "you just answered me in grunts or one-word answers. It was kind of frustrating," he chuckled softly, shaking his head before looking at you. He noticed how you looked at him with a confused expression before continuing, "I just– well, I just wanted to say that it was worth it. All of it. Agreeing to teach you how to hunt better, keep you safe and get you to open up to me. It was all worth it."

He moved closer to you and took your hand into his, noticing the new wounds on your fingers. Sam sighed knowing he couldn't stop you from picking on your skin when he wasn't around, so he always carried some band-aids in his pockets. He took two out of his pocket and started gently tending to your fingers. You bit on your cheek, still not understanding why he came to your room.

Were you that obvious, or was Sam just good at reading you? It was probably the latter, you were an open book in front of him. Once he was done tending to your small but painful wounds, you squeezed his hand before looking at him and hesitating to say what you were about to say, "What- I mean, where are you going with this Sam?"

When the question was out in the air, silence followed for a minute but it felt like hours before Sam spoke, "I.. I know you have feelings for me," his voice was gentle and slightly strained.

You were that obvious, huh.

You pulled your hand away from him, feeling as if your skin burned just by being close to him right now. You shouldn't have opened the door. You could've pretended to not hear the knock and just showered. But no, you just had to let Sam in. Sometimes ignorance was really bliss. If you had just known where this conversation was leading. It could've been avoided, but now you had to sit there, your whole body sensitive and senses heightened as you felt his gaze on you. The room felt small, too small.

You couldn't breathe.

Were you really going to have a panic attack just from Sam addressing your growing feelings towards him? It was pathetic, stupid and careless. You should've just kept to yourself. Goddammit, Sam. He could've kept his mouth shut and not continued this conversation.

"Please– please get out," you managed to choke out, standing up abruptly. You couldn't deal with this right now. Not now. Not ever. Sam looked at you with a pained expression, knowing you were closing up and not letting him in. He sat there for a few more seconds before getting up, "I'll– I'll leave you alone for now. Come to our room later for dinner, okay?"

You gave him a curt nod, heading to the bathroom with your things and taking a cold shower. Even when you drowned yourself in the icy water, your whole body felt like it was grimy, sticky and hot. Every pore oozed with insecurity, embarrassment and guilt. After a while you got out, drying your wet hair with your towel and getting dressed. As much as you didn't want to confront your feelings and talk to Sam about it, you had to go to their room for food. It's been a long day and you were starving.

"–So, I had to bargain with that old Vietnamese man to give me three more tempura shrimps for five dollars," Dean was telling Sam and you about what happened when he was out for food, but you weren't paying much attention, stabbing your plastic fork on the stir-fried chicken on your plate. Your eyes stung from how much you cried in the shower, silently hoping that it wasn't obvious.

Knowing Sam, he definitely noticed, nudging your leg under the table to get your attention. You didn't bother looking up before he nudged you harder, accidentally nudging the table too and making Dean notice the tension he was oblivious to earlier.

"Okay, what is going on with you two?" His eyebrows furrowed, making Sam clench his jaw and making you tense up. You weren't ready. Not yet, you begged in your mind still looking down at your half-eaten dinner. The room felt chilly even with the long sleeves you were wearing. Dean knew about your feelings towards Sam and he teased you sometimes about it, but not around him.

The air was thick, and the lump in your throat was preventing you from speaking. Sam sat up straight, clearing his throat before answering Dean, "It's nothing, we're fine, right?"

He looked at you expectantly, even if he knew that it wasn't really okay between you two. As much as you didn't want to look up from your food and just go to your room and sleep, you looked up, glancing at Sam for a fraction of a second before looking at Dean and giving him a small nod. You got up from the table and threw your leftovers in the trash, your appetite was pretty much lost and you just couldn't bear to be around Sam right now.

"I'm going to my room," your voice thick, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat and feeling tears prick your eyes. Sam was about to stop you but before he could, you already closed the door to their room.

"You should talk to her, Sammy.. you started this shit and I don't wanna be shot in the crossfire. I told you it was a bad idea and that you should give her time to process–" Dean looked at his baby brother, drinking a beer while Sam moped on his bed.

"Do you think I don't know that, Dean? I– I just.. I don't wanna give her false hope– or whatever I'm doing.." Sam trailed off, rubbing his hand across his face out of slight frustration towards his brother. As much as he wasn't over Jess' death, he couldn't ignore your feelings towards him. It was painfully obvious and he thought it was... cute. He liked it when you smiled at him or when you clung to him. It was those small things that tugged at his chest, realizing how much he needed to be around you, protect you and want to prevent what happened to Jess from happening to you. Sam wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something like that happened to you too.

Just imagining it hurt him physically, his heart squeezing in his chest uneasily. But there he was in his shared motel room with his brother, sulking instead of talking to you. Not seeing you hyper and happy felt wrong, like taking out the sun in the middle of the day or kicking a puppy. He sighed, running his hand through his hair before getting up from his bed and earning a chuckle from Dean.

"Go get'em, Tiger," Sam grunted, flipping Dean off before leaving their room and heading to your room. He really should've thought through what he had to say to you. What happened in your room earlier seemed like he was trying to confront you–which he was–but he didn't mean it maliciously. You probably took it as a sign of rejection and felt horrible. He noticed during dinner how pink your nose was and how puffy your eyes were.

When he was about to knock on your door, you suddenly opened it, flinching slightly when you saw him standing there. Sam looked down at you, smiling awkwardly as he retracted his hand away, "I was about to knock– I mean, can we talk?"

He fumbled with his words, hoping you'd let him in and talk. However, when you stepped out of the room, it confused him and was about to ask before you cut him off, "I'm gonna go get ice.. we can talk in the car."

You grumbled, walking towards the ice machine and getting a scoop of ice into your ice pack. After you filled it up, the two of you headed to the Impala, with you sitting in the passenger seat and Sam sitting in the driver's seat. You held the ice pack on your lap, feeling the coolness of it on your trouser-covered thighs.

"Listen, about what I said in your room–" Sam darted his tongue out, licking his lips before continuing, "It's.. it's not what you think I meant. I wasn't trying to reject your feelings."

You listened as he continued explaining himself, playing with the hem of your sleeve, "I understand the way you feel, I really do, but– but I just can't risk you," he reached out for your hand hesitantly and when you didn't flinch, Sam gently took your hand into his and squeezed. He wanted you to look at him– no, he needed you to. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he did love you in his way, he liked you in the same way you did even if he denied it to himself.

"Look at me, please," he pleaded, his voice filled with need and desperation, "I can't live with myself if you die the same way Jess did. I don't want to lose you too. You mean too much to me."

"You mean too much to me."

Those words hit harder than anything. You looked at Sam, eyes filled with unshed tears, lower lip quivering. Everything felt too surreal, it was like you were watching everything unfold from outside your body.

"I know– I know it's hard right now, and I really suck at this whole feelings stuff, but I wanna make it up to you somehow. I wanna make it work between us, and we'll make it work.. but not right now. I promise we'll work through this together and figure it out in the future-" he wiped a few stray tears with his thumb, his hand cupping your face.

"I just wanna see you smile for me again. I don't want to be the reason you cry or be the reason you're upset," he whispered as you sniffled, still not saying a word and letting him talk his heart out. You were crying while being held by the person you've liked for the past seven months. It felt like a dream to you. All this time you thought Sam wouldn't gain feelings for you and here he was telling you that he wanted to work it out in the future and wanting to be the reason you smiled.

You cleared your throat slightly, moving your hand from the ice pack and onto his hand, making him flinch from how cold your palm was, making you giggle groggily, "You can make it up to me by pranking Dean."

"Deal," he smiled and kissed your forehead, wiping the rest of your tears away.

The next morning, Sam and you went to get some breakfast, deciding that waffles and coffee would be a good choice to eat. The two of you came back snickering when you saw a fuming Dean in the car, unable to move his hands from the wheel. You decided that it was a good idea to put some superglue on the steering wheel. Sam knew that Dean would catch on quickly after, so you two decided to get breakfast first.

"You two are so dead!" He grunted before giving up on trying to get himself free. You got into the passenger seat and Sam went into the back, fist-bumping you, "I liked it better when you two didn't get along," Dean muttered before driving and letting you handle the gearstick while he drove.

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pls reblog and like :] I'd be happy if you did!!!

#ashlinxloves #ashlinxloves' fics #Sam Winchester #Sam winchester x you #Sam Winchester fluff #Sam Winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester fic #Dean Winchester

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thewinchestah · 10 months ago

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"INTERMISSION" - ALASTOR X READER

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, masturbation, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etC

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Part I | Part 2 | Part 4

A/N: Hello,hello everyone! Again, thank you all so much for the amazing reception to "Good things come for those who wait". I'm truly touched by your words and praise. I never really tought my writing would see the light of day at this point, nor this much love. My biggest thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment.

So, I'm a bit self concious about this piece. "Intermission" is supossed to be a light break from the previous two fics. A breath of fresh, sex smelling air as I write the next long chapter. (It's gonna be nasty). My intent with this fic was to make it kinda chaotic, kinda rushed like Alastor's mind would be as he masturbates himself at the thought of you and what you are doing to him.

I truly hope I can do your hopes and expectations for my writting justice. I really appreciate feedback on this one.

As always, my special thanks goe to my lovely friend @smallershorteranduncut, who always support my ideas. Te amo amiga <3

Taglist: @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri . If the tags aren't working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

PART I | PART II

Alastor considered himself a smart man, a cunning, self-sufficient, resourceful man. So, naturally, the irony of him being locked inside the bathroom, his cock in his hands while he tortures himself with thoughts of you made him frustrated at best, murderous at worst.

He hates everything about it, he hates to admit that his rut indeed makes him on edge and out of control, he hates to admit that before he met you the ways he dealt with his rut were… undignified. And he hates even more admitting that since he had you at his every whim, to fuck, to breed, to inflict the most depraved ways of torture his rut was becoming a pleasurable thing. All because of you, only because of you.

He had quite literally just fucked you so hard you passed out, his name a scream on your lips, so loud heaven might have heard it. Some part of Alastor wishes that heaven heard it, so they know they made a mistake, so they know they let one of the most sacred things to exist get down here. In hell, with him. Your heavenly body is his to do as he pleases, to break it, desecrate its holiness as he fucks you into submission, granting him a relief so pure, so all consuming that it shouldn’t even be allowed in hell. And they will never correct this mistake.

Some part of Alastor wishes no know never knew about how you always make a mess of yourself for him, how you gladly sprawl yourself open for him, eyes lustful and hopeful that if you let him take it out just a little more on you tonight he will send you over the edge with those two little words: good. girl.

And what a perfect good girl you were, doe eyes always seeking for his across any room, with adoration, with barely hidden lust, with love. Such a contrast when compared to his eyes, burning red from desire, anger, lack of empathy. Red condescending eyes filled with excitement about what he is going to do to you, what he is making you endure for him.

It doesn’t make it any easier on Alastor’s painfully hard cock that you are sleeping just a door away after a rough fuck, his seed still coating your thighs.

He flicks his wrist up and down his shaft, slowly.

Just as slow as how his cock stretched your tight cunt, inch by inch when he first took you. You weren’t nearly as wet as you should be for the first time taking his cock but you darling thing decided to break one of his rules. Your legs desperately spreading in a futile attempt to accommodate him, the delicious fear in your eyes as you realized what you’ve gotten yourself into, completely at his mercy, enduring the pain of being broken by his monster cock. The scream you let out when he buried himself to the hilt inside you, you liked it even when it was hurting, because the pain Alastor inflicted on you was ten times better than any pleasure your silly mortal lovers had ever given you.

The Radio Demon has a knuckle white grip on his cock now, even with hands as big as his, Alastor is having trouble fully closing his hand around the swollen member, his need to claim, to mark, to breed you strong as ever. Precum leaks for the engorged red tip and a hiss escapes his lips, the feeling of powerlessness consuming him in waves of a maddening, unprecedented carnality. The only thing the mighty demon overlord can do to mimic the divine feeling of your cunt being spreading the glossy drop around his overly sensitive tip, grip his cock even tighter as he strokes himself harder and faster, like a maniac.

How the mighty have fallen, he thinks to himself, he’s completely cunt struck by you.

Naturally, he’s gonna make you pay for it.

Alastor fucks himself fast and hard, trying to pic up the breakneck speed he usually does when he’s burying himself inside your heat, his grip sometimes painful. Exactly how the way he wants to be next time he fucks you.

The raw carnality consuming him is too overbearing, so overbearing he closes his burning red eyes as his brain process the severity of his situation: he found the perfect plaything, a deliciously submissive doe for him to breed until she’s numb with the feeling of his cock thrusting into her, completely filled up by his seed. It made his rut more bearable, it made his rut pleasurable, everytime he needed to scratch that primal need you’re always there, always ready to completely submit to him, to completely ruin yourself for him. Alastor honestly thought having you always there, as fun as it was to toy with you that way, would make things better. But it actually made it worse. Because now he knows.

Oh fuck, now he knows.

More pre cum spills, running through Alastor’s claws, dripping and staining his pants, making a mess under him. But it’s not enough, because it will never be enough. It’s not your mess coating his cock, running through his claws, it’s not the sinful invitation of your wetness staining his clothes.

Realization hits him like a curse.

His wrist flicks around his cock with a purpose: to find relief in pain.

You’re the only thing he wants. You are the only woman he will ever want like that. You are the only one he wants to see the obscene amount of his seed dripping from a perfectly swollen red cunt. You are the only one who could possibly deserve this. Now he knows what it is like to feel, to want someone. To have an irrevocable connection. No one in heaven, hell, and all the other possible realms of creation have the right to even think of you in that way. You are his and that’s final.

Next time he takes you he will make sure you know that.

Stroking himself erratically now, Alastor pictures you peacefully sleeping next door, luscious body sprawled on the bed like you don’t have a care in the world. He wants the first thing you feel when you open your eyes is fear. Good, you should feel scared. You should be very, very scared of what he is going to do to you. He hopes to relish in fear in your eyes as he enters your tight pussy, stretching your velvet walls apart in ways you’ve never felt before. Being obscenely broken to accommodate the girth of his rut swollen cock.

Fear, because you should be scared. Fear because you aren’t. Fear because as the realization that Alastor needs you terrifies him, the realization that you fucking love the pain of being a submissive slut to the Radio Demon will undo you, in unholy ways.

The scene of your ass on his lap, red with regret from his whipping and a symphony of your soft moans overrides his mind. You were sobbing from those little whips? He’s gonna double that. He’s gonna give you something to truly cry about. He’s gonna see you cum from the pain of being whipped into submission and his voice only. Because it is what you deserve for making him feel like this. Because it is what you want.

He’s close now, he can tell. He’s gonna cum soon. And it is not going to be inside your pussy. Alastor is enraged about that.

A clawed hand grips the wall besides him. He strokes himself at a merciless pace. Just as merciless as he is gonna be with you. He knows your body like the palm of the hand that is clawing the wall because of the maddening desire he has for you. He’s gonna lure you so you purposefully make a mistake. Just so you can give him the excuse to punish you into understanding that you are irrevocably his. He’s gonna take all of you as it is his right.

His cock twitches, claws scratch the posh wallpaper all the way down, he spills so much cum, all over his lap, his hand.

The sight of Alastor’s flustered face, in post orgasmic daze after mercilessly touching himself at the thought of you is something you definitely should see. But he will never let you.

Because now his mind is clear, he knows it and delights in acceptance. You are his, his mate, his love.

And he’s gonna take his sweet time torturing you into compliance and understanding. With pain, pleasure and all that is Alastor’s nature.

#atençao creuzeback vamos lá que vai começar a baixaria #alstor #hazbin hotel #hazbim hotel fic #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader smut #the radio demon x you #the radio demon x reader #baixaria

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fantasy-relax · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet alpha, Dangerous Omega

Part 1 Part 10 Part 11

Your healing continued without trouble despite your unconscious state, the hunger and dehydration plus your wounds exhausted you enough to stay still while Alcina healed you.

The fact that the matriarch had been as delicate as possible with you helped a lot.

The poor cub was just doing her duty

Standing on the side of your bed Alcina closed her eyes, stopping repressing her Beta from whom she could feel disappointment and anguish along with immense fury.

Cassandra is too strong and stubborn to be easily dominated, if the alpha had been like all the others, taking her by force, our wolf would have ripped out her throat with her teeth. Remember that when we found her, she did not have any wounds, not a single bruise or scratch, her aroma was soft and light without a trace of that bitterness that weighed us down so much.

When we returned to that cabin, we found an Alpha in agony willing to die in our hands rather than endure being without our girl for more than a second, she didn't beg, she didn't even try to run away, she stayed still, just holding in her arms the only memory she had left, refusing to die without it. She only acted violently when he noticed Cassandra's scent and her smell only transmitted a threat towards us, a threat that disappeared when she recognized who the omega, she had lived with was, an omega whose reputation was more than infamous, however in her eyes there was only affection. We witnessed her behavior during her heat, we saw firsthand the care and gentleness with which the alpha treated our cub who for the first time in decades was not suffering alone.

Despite the anger, shame and frustration that she feels, Cassandra is much more relaxed compared to her past Heats.

There will never be anyone who deserves our daughters, however, that Alpha will spend the rest of her life trying to be worthy.

Cassandra can deny it as many times as she wants, but her Omega wants that Alpha as her partner. Her stubbornness against her instinct will only cause her trouble and misery.

And you know that well.

The lady of the house put a hand to her face just to stop immediately when she saw the stains she had from your blood.

The blood from the wounds she caused you.

A woman is different, her parents punish her for her existence.

What a familiar story, don't you think?

The Beta's words were like a blow to her face, guilt filled her chest and the gravity of her actions weighed on her shoulders.

A pale woman whose death was hoped for, fighting to live another day.

What a familiar story.

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

While causing pain didn't bring her as much pleasure as it did Cassandra, Lucia's moans were music to her ears.

“Hey Bela, what did she do?”

In her quest for revenge, she had forgotten to tell Daniela about what happened she simply burst into the library with a promise of fresh prey and the redhead followed her.

“Remember how I told you that the alpha had failed to demonstrate self-control?”

"Aha?"

"I was wrong, actually her self-control is admirable, in her shoes I would have torn out this bitch's tongue." She took the sickle out of the woman's leg only to skewer it in the other and continued her walk to the dungeon, ignoring the cries behind her.

“Oh? Miss Perfect admitting a mistake? I think boredom is making me hallucinate”

The two stopped when they heard Cassandra's voice, the brunette came out of her swarm with a mocking smile, leaning on the back of her younger sister.

“Oh, did you hear that too Cassie? For a moment I thought I had gone deaf.” Daniela rubbed her ears, smiling at the oldest of the three. “So, what did she do, you can't leave us wondering.”

Bela let go of her sickle, sighing knowing that her sisters wouldn’t let her forget this. Glancing sideways at Cassandra she decided to at least have a little fun.

“Well, you know that mother left me in charge of the Alpha.” The smile faded from Cassandra's face. "In just one month she has exceeded my expectations, her discipline and work are magnificent, and Relia recognizes her ability to the point of declaring her as her future substitute." The brunette rolled her eyes, but in the air you could detect the slight pride that her scent gave off. “That is why I am sad to admit that I judged her without seeking more evidence”

“Eh afa-aff lieugh-s”

It seems that the beating you gave her had knocked out a few neurons in addition to her teeth.

“So, there have never been any acts of violence against said alpha?” Cassandra's posture stiffened. “Are the physical and verbal attacks that I have been informed of nothing more than fallacies?” Her sister, with false calm, approached the maid's body and placed her heel on her chest.

"So?"

“Lie-ugh-s” Yes, she was stupid.

“It's also a lie that the reason she attacked you was because you said that my sister was so desperate to be fucked that she would let the Lycans mount her” Daniela looked at her in horror, shaking her head in disgust at the image while Cassandra turned to her seeing her with indignation and disgust to which Bela only shrugged her shoulders. “Words more words less”

“LI-AHH” Cassandra kicked her jaw, dislocating it again while Daniela grabbed the embedded sickle and twisted it.

"Besides, the person who told me wasn´t the alpha, it was another maid who witnessed your actions." If it weren't for Zina... "You attacked a co-worker and disrespected the Dimitrescu House," she approached the woman's face and force her to look at her by holding her dislocated jaw. “And you still try to evade your punishment? The alpha hasn't made even the slightest complaint these days, and still, you think you're superior?” She asked with anger before controlling herself, “Normally Cassandra would take care of you.”

“Ugh, am I really still grounded?” The brunette complained. “It's been a month already!”

“And mother said you still will be grounded for another eight.” In reality were four, but she was still upset with Cassandra for her irresponsibility. She signaled to Daniela to continue walking. The pool of blood was going to be difficult to remove, and they had left a trail of blood on the entire hallway, perfect that would make them remember who was in charge. “But she said you were free to give advice on how to proceed with her.”

Her sister sighed, but she nodded, accepting what was offered.

“If Daniela can be patient, maybe you can keep her alive for more than a week.”

“HEY”

“Let's start with the basics, we have to prevent her from bleeding completely, Daniela take out the sickle and use this to make a tourniquet on her legs” Cassandra offered a rope to the minor and then smiled evilly at Lucia, making sure to show her fangs “She deserves special treatment after all.”

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

When you woke up you looked at the ceiling of your room feeling relief for not being trapped in the dungeon you looked at the window finally noticing how late it was. Lady Dimitrescu had shown mercy in releasing you early and you repaid her by sleeping during work hours.

You got up immediately to put on your uniform and left the room without even taking a bath, chasing away the flies that fluttered around you attracted by your bad smell. Some of them left but one stayed, refusing to die crushed by your hands. You gave up and let it rest on your neck.

You swore it was laughing at you.

Arriving at the workshop you were greeted by Relia who scolded you, but not for the reason you expected.

“You should be resting for another day! *Sniff* You haven't even bathed, Holy Mother Miranda, give me patience, Come here.”

You followed her without saying anything, you didn't want to make her more angry but as always she was the one who broke the silence.

"I'm sorry"

“Uh?”

“I didn't realize how you were treated, I thought you just didn't want to get involved with Betas when in reality they were the ones who didn't want you to be there.” She looked at you with determination. “Things will be different, I promise you.”

"You don't have to apologize, that's normal for me, an alpha woman is an aberration just like an omega man, their existence is unnatural and grotesque and should be treated as such."

Although you had hoped that outside the town it would be different, the reality was that here being treated with insults and beatings was common. You never expected it to be different in the castle.

You stiffened as you felt arms wrap around you only to relax as you realized it was just Relia giving you a hug.

It felt good.

“I will make sure to create a new normal for you.”

You leaned on her more.

For a moment you thought the fly was rubbing against you offering its own form of comfort.

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

After your bath, Relia took you to the kitchen where Dorottea received her with a light slap for not going to breakfast while she told you to sit down with a light dish since mealtime was close.

Unlike other days, the kitchen staff interacted with you, involving you in their conversations.

Which seemed to be a bad decision.

Every time you mentioned something about your life in the village, all the women would stare at you with a mixture of horror, pity, and disbelief.

You knew your life wasn't the best and frankly it was bad but it wasn't that horrible either.

Right?

“Let me see if I heard correctly.” Dorottea joined the conversation after a while. “Your father used you as bait to attract a bear” You nodded. “For which he threw a bucket of blood on you and left you in the middle of the forest with just a whistle.”

“He didn't leave me alone; he climbed a tree to aim and see better so he wouldn't shoot me by mistake again.” Your parents were cruel but it's not like they tried to kill you on purpose.

“Shoot you?!”

"Again?!"

“It was only a few times on my arm and leg and once it grazed my cheek” And every time that happened they let you rest until you healed. “After that he changed the strategy”

"To what?"

“He tied my ankle to a rock and when the bear came, he would throw it to get me out of the way” Much more effective and safer.

Silence.

“At the end he would get me down and adjust my ankle if it had been dislocated” Later he will teach you how to do it on your own, a very useful skill in your opinion.

“How old were you?”

"Eight"

The silence seemed to increase the sound of the clock that marked how close it was to meal time.

The kitchen staff got up and proceeded to do their jobs like every day, however you thought that perhaps they were cutting the ingredients with more force than necessary and you were sure that the murmurs they made under their breath sounded like swear words.

Greta came in, looked at the situation and shrugged her shoulders and then spoke to you.

“Lady Bela wishes to speak with you, follow me.”

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

There was no trace of resentment on your face.

“Why didn't you say something about the treatment of maids?”

“I didn't think it was necessary, although it caused some delays, it was nothing I hadn't dealt with before”

After reading Greta's report it was easy to understand why it took you so long to get to your lessons. Another thing that she punished you for without first asking you what was happening, she rubbed her temples for a second before looking at you again.

“You could have told me when the incident with Lucia occurred” Your eyes shone with fury for a few seconds. You closed them as you took a breath and the fire faded.

“I broke the rules that were imposed on me, no matter the reason it doesn't change the fact that I disobeyed Lady Dimitrescu's orders, as well as yours.”

Bela sighed, her guilt still weighing on her.

“Any person would react badly upon hearing those words, you had great self-control to avoid killing her considering that she offended the omega of your interest.”

The seriousness with which you acted faded, you blushed completely and avoided her gaze.

“Well it's uhh” You cleared your throat to control your voice “I must act like a proper alpha if I want to be Lady Cassandra's heat partner.”

Oh?

“And what do you think an alpha does that qualifies her as adequate?”

Despite your firm stance there was a resignation and defeat in your eyes.

“Provides their partner with food and shelter, protects them from any enemy and never makes them doubt their loyalty and affection.” You took a deep breath. “I know that the only thing I can offer Lady Cassandra is my presence and body, however, if I can do anything else for her, I will do it without thinking.”

So, for you that's being an alpha.

To protect and provide with love and loyalty.

Black God seems like a line taken from one of the novels that-

“How romantic!”

Daniela likes so much…

“Dani, what did I tell you about entering without knocking?”

Her sister completely ignored her as she held your hands.

“Don't you want to be my mate? I'll treat you better than Cassie." Her little sister was shamelessly flirting with you.

Blushing up to your ears, you freed yourself from Daniela's grip and took a step back.

“It would be an honor to be your mate Lady Daniela” You bowed your head “However it is Lady Cassandra who my alpha has chosen and I agree with that decision, I apologize for rejecting your generous offer.”

Silence.

Daniela hugged you, almost drowning you in her chest.

“AWW NO PROBLEM, CUTIE I WILL BE MORE THAN SATISFIED BEING YOUR FAVORITE SISTER-IN-LAW”

You were on your tiptoes with your hands fluttering around not knowing where to place them.

You really were a special case.

“Dani, you are going to suffocate her, and Cassandra is going to get angry with you if you rub your scent on her.”

As soon as you were free you took breaths of air without control.

“Killjoy, you don't want me to be her favorite, you've already spent a lot of time with her now it's my turn!”

“If I spend so much time with her, that's why; one, I am in charge of her and two, I give her classes”

“You have surely bored her to death with your numbers.”

“That you don't like mathematics is another thing”

Daniela pouted and then smiled in a way that Bela knew meant trouble.

“You are very busy, dear sister. What do you think if we divide the work?” She raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what her sister was planning. “You teach her about math, geometry and everything boring” she rolled her eyes. “And I am in charge of teaching her about literature, grammar and writing, which you know very well I am better at than you.” Daniela finished by placing her hands on her back while she wiggled back and forth on the balls of her feet.

With a hand on her chin Bela considered the offer, your writing needed improvement and you had numerous errors in your spelling with Daniela teaching, you would learn properly and her schedule wouldn't be so tight.

"That seems fine to me"

“Yesss”

Walking towards you Bela placed a hand on your shoulder, you tensed for a second before relaxing considerably.

“You will continue with your work with Relia, I am in charge of establishing a class schedule with Daniela”

“Boring”

"Daniela"

With her sister quiet, she decided to make something else clear.

“I'm in charge of you, if you have a problem, tell me immediately” You nodded “And if someone insults my family again you are free to punish them” She let go of your shoulder and caressed your head, smiling as she noticed how you leaned closer to her when he walked away. “You can leave.”

Alone with Daniela, it was the youngest who broke the silence.

“The blouse she is wearing is yours, right?”

“Yes, I'm surprised Cassandra hasn't noticed it yet.”

Sighing, her sister sat on the couch.

“Cass hasn't noticed because she's been avoiding her since she kicked her out of her room.” Daniela rubbed her face with both hands. “She denies that she has any interest and what happened was just a slip of her omega's heat"

Bela returned to her new desk, sitting down to review reports on the status of the vineyard.

Daniela turned to look at her. “Do we agree that the plan is to bother Cassie until she admits her interest?” she asked mischievously.

"Absolutely"

#resident evil village #cassandra dimitrescu #my work #omegaverse

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 4 months ago

Note

Idk if anyone asked you this, but what's your take on the alpha kids?

I have a feeling that the alpha kids were a bit rushed? Especially Jane! (because of the trickster stuff + her being controlled by the Condesce) And the problem Dirk and Jake had was resolved so quickly that idk, it didn't feel natural to me??

ANYWAYS, I just want to know your thoughts on the alpha kids and how they would work things out and everything! :)

Less "rushed" and more "literally unfinished" imo - the same with almost all of the rest of the cast. They do get themselves into drama a lot faster than the beta kids do, but by that point in the comic, we kind of Get It, y'know? We did the song and dance already with the beta kids and trolls, there's no real reason to draw it out.

That being said, I do think if I had any major writing critique for Homestuck - like if I were being paid to edit it professionally for some sort of hypothetical director's cut - then it would be to have the alpha kids have more of a presence through acts 1-5, even if not necessarily the alpha kids exactly. More stuff like Jake sending John a happy birthday letter. Bro Strider/Momlonde/Nannasprite remain mysterious and vague in ways I think don't necessarily contribute to the story; it'd be neat, for example, for Rose to have stumbled upon some of her Mom's writings from when she was a kid, or for some second avatar of Bro in the form of a programmed robot to heckle Dave and foreshadow Dirk's splintered self/HAL.

This isn't to say I think Hussie did a BAD job, it's just going to be an issue with serial works in general - the alpha kids, their personalities, and their drama were not fully developed, if at all, at the time that the guardians were introduced, so there are things that Act 1-4 Hussie literally could not have written in that Act 5-6 Hussie probably would've. Hence, this would be a change to make in a theoretical director's cut; adding more alpha kid presence in Acts 1-4 makes it so we have to play less catch-up when the alpha kids are properly introduced.

As for how their arcs resolve... or, rather, literally don't resolve. Well, I personally believe that everything after Game Over is a heavily truncated version of the ending that was originally intended, and the alpha kids - along with most of the other characters - were kind of at the low points of their respective character arcs when Condy showed up and shit went south, and never really get the chance to pull themselves out. So, y'know, I personally believe the original ending would have had... more of that. I'm realizing now that, with the way retcon/dream/etc. mechanics work, it's totally possible for Roxy to have made a Choice with Nyx to die, but transfer her memories to an earlier version of herself, and for (Dirk) to finally make it out of the Furthest Ring to arrive in a completely different timeline. and it would be really funny

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xr0tt3nxfl3shx · 10 months ago

Text

👁💊My Medicine is underdeveloped and my Amygdala won't work.💉👁

Twomp[AU] fanfiction + art !! Pertains to the events in this post. [No beta we die.]

⚠️‼️TW: VOMITING / OVERDOSE / SUICIDAL IDEATION / UNREALITY / CORRUPT MENTAL HEALTH SYSTEM / GENERAL MENTAL ILLNESS THEMES‼️⚠️

A/N: i didnt wanna mention it tbh but just in case, ive been down the chemical consumption road 3 times, an i mention because i know the internet has opinions on mental illness in writing. But ive been there myself. All up close and personal like. so i think i can speak on it (dont castrate me)

POV: 👁Argos👁

I scratch at my skin in the dark of my room as if that'll hold in the tears from spilling over my burning red cheeks. The feeling of rage and overwhelming depression clash within me, and leave me to switch every few minutes between cursing the name of every therapist who ever told me that "I'm not even trying to get better" and crying over the idea that they might be right.

My heartbeat is so vigorous that it feels like at any moment the tendons will tear away and my heart will burst in my ribs. How could anyone say that to me? I seethe and hiss through my gritting teeth. Why can't I get better? I cry enough to fill an ocean and nearly drown in my tears.

I should be able to control all of this by now, I'm not a child. Yet, I can't stop thinking about putting the heads of those who hurt me on a platter. Or banging my head on my bedroom wall hard enough to dull the heartbreak. My eyes are running dry from all the tears, I've been at this for a while. My head is pounding from the adrenaline. All reasonable thoughts are drowned out, with intrusive and irrational ones taking the place of my internal voice of reason.

I can make it better, I can make this better. I just need to try a little harder! Just.. go a little further. These feelings, it's just a chemical imbalance right?

I'm running out of options, types of therapy, pills, at this point I might as well just get a lobotomy. I'm sure my therapist would like that.

There's still time to make this right. I don't have to end my life to end my suffering right?

I can prove them wrong. I will prove them wrong. It's just a chemical imbalance. I just need to fix it.

I rummage through the medicine cabinet above my bathroom sink, overlooking the blood crusting around the drain. There has to be something in here that can make my head stop pounding or my thoughts quiet down if not for just a little while. Maybe everything all at once? Yeah that should do!

Laid out in front of me on the cold tiled floor of my bathroom are various pill bottles. The amount of pills actually in them is varied, they like to switch my meds every other week it seems. I try to be hasty with this, pouring out a small handful of gel capsules into my hand. Each one smooth, glossy, and slightly cool to the touch.

You know, I've been here before, and typically there's some survival instinct in me, paralyzing my hands before I can do any damage. But all I can feel is anguish. And anger. And there's no more room for self preservation in me.

I take my first dose before I can come down from my emotion fueled adrenaline rush. Quickly now don't let the self preservation come back. I take my next dose of a new pill type, a tablet. It was a bad idea doing this dry but oh well!

Before I know it I'm slumped against my bathroom door, unable to continue my self medication on account of the mounds of pills I dry swallowed having begun triggering my gag reflex. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious about this, but it had to be done. My therapist is always urging me to take steps in the right direction!

(Though admittedly he never mentioned which direction is the right one.)

I make it back to my bed, dragging my feet and leaning on the wall for support the whole way. It's not even five minutes in when I start to feel the effects. I probably should've eaten before taking my pills like the instructions say.

This is different though, I feel my connection to reality slip right through my jittery fingers. Like the shadows in my room are divulging their presence. Like they are reaching out their hands, ready to take hold of me, pull me in and make me one with unreality. An emptiness overcomes me, something I've truly never felt before. And it's the strangest thing, because simultaneously I've never felt more alive in my life.

Everything is really funny, I've never noticed how funny everything is up until now. Every little unorganized thought that pops up in my foggy, spacing-out head manages to get a strained laugh out of me.

Visual snow floods my peripheral, the colors of the world begin to become one with the static in my eyes.

Ah, I remembered what I was going to do in here. I need to call Mr. Plant. I need him to know that I'm going to get better, and how much I love him of course. Oh he'll never understand just how much I love him! I love him to death, haha! Literally.

I dial in the number. Moving has proven difficult, like trying to control a vehicle while tired and out of it, or in my case trying to control a vehicle through the most debilitating brain fog I've ever experienced. The disconnection from body and thought is almost calming.

The ringing of the phone is such a funny thing as well. I could lose myself in the methodical rhythm and loose vibrations running up my hands- oh look here he's answered!

"M‐r… plant! I ha-ve.. s o me thi.. ng to tell you."

I am fighting to get the words out. The weak sounds I manage to get out of my raspy throat come out in uneven tones with jarring stutters. Why is it so hard to speak?

"I took.. a lot o-f... my me-ds. Ha-ha!" He hangs up immediately.

Is he not happy for me? It wasn't long before I heard sirens closing in. Did he call the cops on me? That's no fair, no fair at all.

I've never been rolled into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher before but there's a first time for everything I suppose. It's too bad I'm too out of it to really experience it.

In the ambulance is when the first wave of nausea hits. I could barely even feel the EMT insert the IV or hear when they asked me questions.

———

The heart palpitations do their diligence distracting from the perforations left in my arm from the injections of various medications and the IV drip.

My respiration is just as irregular as my heart's chemical damaged rhythm. I feel like I'm drowning in this heavy air and it feels like the knots in my stomach have spread to my heart. This pain is so unbearable that I feel the need to crave it out of myself with a blade.

The world is doubling- no tripling, blurring, and mushing together all at once. I can feel the hum of the fluorescent hospital light buzz through my head. The scent of rubbing alcohol and sterilized equipment is evident throughout the cold medical facility.

By my own hands I've made my body a place unsuitable for living. I've "almost drugged myself to an early grave" as the hospital staff keep reminding me.

Speaking of body, I can no longer tell where I end and the wires of the EKG machine begin. Neuropathy has set in and nerve sensation has dulled for the most part, except in my stomach and heart where it hurts the most of course. But me and the machines they have me hooked up to might as well be one as long as they are taking the place of my dysfunctional body systems.

When they run the EKG scan, which they do about every half hour, they ask me to stay as still as I can, but it's hard to control the shaking when I don't know where it comes from in the first place. I'm by no means cold, or if I am I really can't feel it.

Have I mentioned the shaking? The tremors? I need to grow accustomed to the flavor of raw stomach acid soon, because that's all I've been throwing up anymore. It's all that's left.

The nausea begins to build all over again, like my stomach is writhing and contorting in my torso. I can feel the knots being tied. Over the next few minutes it builds and builds, I'd do anything to stop the encroaching bile now. The nausea completely overwhelms my senses right before another round of the most violent retching I've ever experienced. Accompanied by the most awful squelching and splattering sounds as it hits the rest of vomit already resting at the bottom of the bag.

I feel like I'm nearing being turned inside out everytime it happens. And I've filled yet another vomit bag. This isn't going to stop for days as the doctor told me. I doubt I'll get the luxury of unconsciousness.

The activated charcoal they gave me to drink is like this black sludge, "slow and steady now, don't drink so fast you throw it all up but not so slow that you succumb to the consequences of your own actions." Well maybe that's not what they really said but it's how it felt. I can tell the staff are judging me, I just know it! They think I deserve this.

At least the charcoal is cherry flavored.

My many eyes dart around the clean and pristine hospital room erratically, glancing off in every direction. I don't want anyone to look at me anymore. I can't stand the buzz of the lights and I can barely bring myself to move enough to blink. Or even move enough to breathe. I am much too dizzy and light-headed to even consider standing up. I'm so dizzy I could swear I'm phasing in and out of my body. The only thing keeping my consciousness bound to this body is the unending pain ancoring me in the reality of my situation.

It's growing increasingly unbearable.

Above all else I am losing my mind trying to figure out where I went wrong tonight. These chemicals were supposed to fix all these feelings. The pills were supposed to fix me. My psychiatrists and therapists all told me that I'm sick, disordered, and all I needed was to buy a few more medicines.

It must be my fault, it must be if hundreds of milligrams of mood stabilizers can't just make it better.

Tell me, anyone tell me, why I'm so useless that I can't even help myself?

Why am I so worthless that my medicine won't work on me?

I am almost entirely suspended in unreality. The prozac, olanzapine, mirtazapine, and everything other useless drug they gave me were meant to cure me. I've tried everything!

I've done the very most I can to try and make the bad thoughts quiet down. And are the thoughts that tell me "I'd be better dead", my own thoughts, or a symptom of one of my diagnoses?

Is the reason I'm like this the same reason I don't deserve love, or do I not deserve love because I'm like this? I want to get better. I swear I really do.

So why does no one believe me?

"Sir, you have a visitor." The nurse informs me in a harsh yet hush tone.

The words barely make it through my chemical head. I'm practically catatonic in this hospital bed. But when I do process them I pray to every divine that it is who I think it is.

Red petals on the top and bottom, two yellow petals, one pink and one blue. I was right!

I can't believe he came all the way down to this void to come see me. I really thought he'd stay home. I don't think anyone or anything could possibly understand the pure desperation I feel coursing through my veins. Right alongside the saline they're using to flush my IV of course.

My boyfriend entered my hospital room, #34 I believe, I saw when they rolled me in on the stretcher. Tears well up in my dried eyes, I couldn't feel enough of anything to cry while drugged out of my head but seeing him, well, I need him more than I have ever needed anyone before.

The look on his face when he saw me is one I didn't know he was capable of, pure horror even. I must look horrible stained with my own bile in these itchy hospital scrubs. He is quick to clasp my hand in his and rub along my knuckles and the back of my palm. Through the blurred vision and tears I can't even make him out anymore but I don't need to, I just need his touch. I need it so badly.

I have no depth perception at the moment, or hand eye coordination, and again everything is quite blurry so it was mostly unintentional when I pulled him in by the sweater. He leans into me and wraps his arms under my upper back, holding me against his chest.

He's warm against me, holding me gently in a hospital bed. I can't feel much at all other than the pain, his warmth was the only other sensation I could pin down in my head. It was such a harsh contrast from how I normally see him acting.

With him so close I can't tell where he ends and I begin this time. Even in one of my most painful moments, I feel a familiar comfort in my palpitating heart. He's the only thing keeping me from going entirely mad. He has no idea what I'd give to melt into him right here right now, become an amalgamated abomination of our half hazardly bonded flesh and bone. I'm afraid I'd ruin him and all his perfection with me and all my misshapen and grotesqueness.

I am especially disgusting as of now, making him worry about me like this. Can I not be horrible for just one second? Selfish, that's it. I must be selfish. I take another go at speaking a moment after we pull away. All I can muster is an apology that comes out more like a pathetic stammer through my tears.

The way his cold gaze met mine shook me. I've never seen real tears stream down his face. He looks so... distraught. Its like he's looking right through me and simultaneously looking directly at me. And on top of everything I've never seen him sign so frantically. He rarely signs at all.

"Please don't be sorry."

…

"Don't strain your voice."

"Just stay right there, okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'll get you anything, I'd do anything for you."

I knew he cared about me, but I guess I never realized just how much. Or maybe I just forgot. How horrible am I?

Is it possible I'm actually worth something to him? Worth enough for him to call me an ambulance, worth enough for him to comfort me in the hospital bed, worth enough for him to cry over me?

Was I really worth staying with all this time?

My thoughts are interrupted by another round of retching, it seems those knots in my stomach weren't just anxiety. Mr. Plant holds my hand through it. I'm gonna be here a while, I know that. But he's here with me, and from the looks of it he isn't leaving my side anytime soon.

I'll make it out alive, not for myself, just for him. And for the possibility that maybe he needs me just as much as I need him. I wish my mind wasn't so scrambled, so I could find the words to express just how much I love him.

I love you Mr. Plant.

#overdose #vomiting #tw overdose #tw vomit #unnamed twomp au #twomp #ashur gharavi #argos twomp #the world of mr plant #twomrp #twomp fanfic #plargos #eye love you #I'm so sorry regular twomp enjoyerd #YOU JUST GOT [COMICALLY ANGSTY TWOMP AU]'D #Spotify

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lilspacewolfie · 8 months ago

Note

please can i get copiiia or your lucifer devil terzo with edging & bondage & a ruined orgasm if you want to be awful to the cardinal 🥺💦 👅

A Little Mercy

Ohohoo nonny you opened a can of worms with this one! I'm not sure if this counts as a ruined, but I did my best. I also tried my hand at regular, very normal human Terzo today. I hope you like it <3

Content: 1.4k words, Terzo x Copia, NSFW, MDNI, SMUT, sexual content, soft dom terzo, body worship, light-bondage, blow-jobs, teasing, blindfolds, edging, no beta we die like nihil!

“You’re so quiet, amore,” Terzo purrs from behind him, hot breath ghosting across the shell of Copia’s left ear.

Copia blinks rapidly, his eyes refocusing on Papa’s beautiful bed that’s had the pillows fluffed and the restraints lashed around the baroque headboard. When he’s back in the present, shrugging his shoulders into Terzo’s waiting hands so that the heaviest layer of his cassock can slip free, it's a little difficult not to feel self-aware.

Terzo steps into view, mid-process of folding the cassock neatly as he walks towards the foot of the bed. Copia watches the way he moves, bare hands, coat-less and oh-so-beautiful that at times he can't believe his luck. Terzo sets the cassock on the plush ottoman at the end of his bed. He then turns to approach Copia again, a tender hand rising to cup his face. Copia melts into the palm against his cheek with a sigh and a flutter of his lashes.

“I can see that you’re overthinking,” Terzo strokes a thumb over his sideburns, mismatched eyes searching his face. “We don’t have to if you are having second thoughts, sì? And I remind you again, that you can stop this at any time.”

“Sì, I know. Please,” Copia tips his head into Terzo’s hold, feeling him and breathing him in. “I want this.”

“As long as you are sure?”

“Sì. Ti prego.”

Copia watches the corner of Terzo’s mouth twitch up as those wonderfully bare fingers slowly descend, following the curve of his jaw and down his neck to the collar of his undershirt. Copia leans in for another lush kiss that he can't help but moan softly into, a hand seeking the front of Terzo’s own partially unbuttoned vestment. His pulse hammers in his throat and he bites down a whine when Terzo pulls back, his paint a touch more smeared and the centre of his mouth a bare, blushing pink. His hand curves around the back of Copia’s neck, thumb swiping over his pulse point.

“Let me take care of you, Copia, sì? Let me make you feel good.”

When Copia nods, the smile on Terzo's face spreads in a slow, alluring display that ends with sharp teeth. He leans in again, pressing a reassuring kiss between his brows.

—

“Look at you trying so hard to keep yourself composed,” Terzo says from where he’s propped up between Copia’s thighs, watching him tremble. It's all Terzo—all tease and a wicked tongue.

Copia swallows the thick lump in his throat, the purple blindfold that Terzo had tied around his eyes some time ago now having slipped down to reveal his normal brown eye. His arms are pulling in his restraints and his entire body feels strung tight from his head to his toes. They both watch the way his cock jumps against his belly, ruddy and flushed and aching to be touched.

“Ti prego, Papa. Ti pre—”

Copia chokes and arches when Terzo takes him in a loose wet fist, nearly sobbing when he doesn’t move his hand. A little bead of precum wells at the tip, dripping down the swollen head.

”My dear, sweet Cardinal,” Terzo hums, his other hand petting over the muscle of Copia’s hairy thigh, staring openly at his flushed face and the trail of reddened bites all the way down his chest and stomach. “You look so lovely. You will let me know when you are close again, sì?”

Copia turns his face, trying to get his breathing under control. His chest is rising and falling with deep breaths and his blood is singing throughout his body. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take of this sweet torture. The answer sounds something like ‘as much as Terzo will give him’. The sheets are sticking to his skin, he’s burning hot with the unrelenting desire to roll his hips that’s building in his groin. When Terzo finally does start to pulse his hand in a little tight circle from the base of his cock all the way to the head, Copia goes slack. His head thumps against the headboard on a whimper.

“P-Papa…” it’s barely above a whisper. He lets out a throaty, anguished sound when Terzo stops and removes his hand altogether.

“What was that? I didn’t hear an answer, Cardinal?”

Copia’s head lulls back in the direction of Terzo, a bead of sweat running down his nose.

“Please. I will. I will. I promise. Ti prego…”

Briefly Terzo sits up in a kneel and reaches forwards to tug the purple silk from his head, stroking his fingers across his sweaty forehead and cheek. He pushes some of Copia’s hair back and Copia chases the touch, completely at his mercy. If Terzo decides to leave him right now he would be satisfied, yet the sweet smile on Papa’s face says otherwise.

“Remember, Cardinal,” Terzo warns, his face and voice revealing nothing more about his composure, unlike the obvious dark flush that spreads all the way down his neck and chest. Copia can see the obvious bulge in his trousers, and he dimly wonders if Terzo was serious about tonight just being about him.

Any coherent thought leaves his head when Terzo situates himself between his thighs and takes him in hand again. He moans, surprising himself at the intensity of the reaction. But he’s so sensitive, so strung tight that any sort of touch makes him burn and feel like he’s falling apart. He stares openly at Terzo’s face, bleary eyes drinking in the sight of his Papa—his paint smeared and all the skin starting to show beneath, pink lips glistening with spit and slick and Copia thinks he might actually die.

His thighs go tight when Terzo presses a hand to the soft pudge of his belly, pets tenderly, and then takes him into his hot, wet mouth. He presses all the way down, nose flush with Copia’s belly before he pulls off. He does it again, lathering him, eyes holding Copia’s as he does so.

The noise Copia releases is almost animal, nails biting into his palm and arm pulling hard at the restraints around his wrists. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been at this game or how long his aching arms have been tied up now, but what he does know is he’s going to cum. The need rolls through him, starting deep near his spine and he can’t do anything more than watch his cock disappear into Terzo’s mouth.

“Terzo,” He manages to gasp all high and breathy, writhing as release begins to pulsate through him. Tears blur his eyes and he sobs. “T-Terzo. I… Cumming. I-I’m cumming—”

Just as the heat of orgasm washes through him and his cock kicks, at the very last calculated second Terzo pulls away completely.

He’s sure Terzo’s speaking to him, but Copia hears nothing over his own cry out as he paints his chest and soft belly, frustration and discomfort arcing through him in tandem with the bliss of release. He shakes with the force of it, his eyes that had squeezed shut eventually tearing open back. He watches his cock twitch and jump, milky white dribbling onto his skin with a few, weak pulses over his navel. He moans with it, whimpering and whining.

The emotional release soon follows quickly on its heels, biting at him and stinging in a way he’s not fully prepared for. His breathing hitches and his eyes start to spill hot down his cheeks.

When he’s released, his arms flopping against the bed and he’s pulled into an embrace by Terzo, Copia lets go and cries.

“Shh, shh,” Papa whispers, petting his sweaty ashen hair back from his forehead. “That’s it, I have you amore. I have you. Just let it out.”

His arms are deadweight and tingly, but eventually, he returns the embrace, half-curled into Terzo’s chest. Terzo doesn’t let go of him—he’s all hushed words and careful touches once he’s stopped shaking for the most part. Copia quivers at the sensation of Papa’s fingers running lightly up and down his arms in a slow rhythm; a pass down his arm, circling back around up over his freckled shoulders, all while the other keeps petting through his hair. He focuses on it, listening to Terzo’s careful instructions on slowing his breathing.

“How do you feel?” Terzo finally asks once his sobs have dampened to quiet sniffles. His breath is cool against Copia’s burning skin.

“Good,” Copia sniffles softly, voice hoarse. “That felt… amazing. Grazie, amore mio.”

“I’m glad. I’m so glad.” Terzo kisses his forehead, between his brows, cradling him close. “When you feel ready and if you can move, will you let me help you shower?”

Copia presses closer and nuzzles beneath Terzo’s chin with a heavy, gratified sigh. He winces at the sensation of release cooling on his skin, cringing when his senses start to return to something normal. He nods, humming.

“Sì, I would like that.”

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

#ask red #ghost #the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #terzo #papa emeritus iii #copiiia #canon x canon #cardinal copia x papa emeritus iii #alternate universes

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sharaug · 1 year ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔

❝ everything beautiful comes with pain. roses have thorns, don't they? ❞ ─ unknown

AUTHOR'S NOTE ❳ this entire one shot was inspired by @skittlescripts triad au! please go check them out for more content on it, if you'd like! :>

➔ ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ(s) :: this is my first time writing for anything lmk/jttw related, so forgive me if a lot of the characters in this are ooc. also, this whole thing is a completely self indulgent "what if" blurb on my interpretation of skittles's mc, so all of this is (obviously) not at all canon to their au aha-

mc in this one-shot is a mystic/demon monkey like wukong n macaque cuz i'm different (/j) also, in case it wasn't obvious already, she's based off of yor briar/forger from spy x family

blood, violence, and cursing will all be featured in this. i tried not to make it all too graphic, but i'd suggest reading at your own risk just in case if you're not a big fan of that stuff

not beta read + edited we die like my motivation to finish school work 🫡

NOT MANY WERE━━━brave enough to sleight the Great Sage Equal to Heaven these days, but Sun Wukong supposed that demons wouldn't be, well ... demons if they didn't make any foolish decisions every now and then.

Still, though, that thought couldn't possibly be enough to calm him back down into a more rational train of thought—especially when one of the 'foolish demons' just mentioned currently had a gun held up against his son's temple.

"Take one more step, Great Sage," mocked the bastard with a sneer as he pressed the weapon further against Xiaotian's skin, which in turn drew out a small whimper from the boy that made Wukong's rage flare even more. "Go ahead. Do it and see what happens to your kid right here."

This was frustrating. So frustrating—especially when his treasured staff was currently laying right in front of his feet, right where he'd dropped it after the demon threatened to pull the trigger if he didn't. Under normal circumstances, he could bless the world by ridding it of this pest's existence in under ten seconds flat, yet ...

Wukong's gloved hands tightened into fists at his sides.

The Great Sage, the Monkey King was immortal. His son, however, was not.

And mortality had always been such a fragile thing.

"Remind me, demon," Wukong began after wetting his lips. "What is it that you'll get out of all of this, exactly?" he asked.

The demon threw his head back and laughed, the action alone being enough to jostle the hold he had on Xiaotian. For a moment, Wukong allowed a small ray of hope to shine through for his son: believing that maybe he could use this as an opportunity to slip out of the large demon's grasp and run over into the safety that the arms of his father provided.

Unfortunately, though, that hope was quickly snuffed out when the demon sobered up and tightened his hold around the mortal boy he held captive. Xiaotian looked like he could start crying any second now, and Wukong had to internally count to twenty before all of his impulse control flew out the nearest window and set him loose to show this sorry excuse of a 'crime lord' what had made Heaven fear the Monkey King in the first place.

"Now, what kind of a question is that, o' Great One Equal to Heaven?" The demon grinned, revealing rows of sharp teeth stained yellow. Wukong had to wrinkle his nose at the sight. "I figured it'd be obvious what I want, considering the fact that it's what every demon in this cursed city wants from you," he laughed again.

"Oh?" Wukong rose a brow, playing dumb to stall for time. "And what might that be?" He tilted his head.

The demon's brow twitched. "Don't play dumb!" he snapped. "I want your title! This city! Everything you have!" he raved.

He's getting worked up now. Wukong spared a glance to Xiaotian, who was somehow even more stiff than before. That would be a good thing if it weren't for the fact he was holding my kid hostage right now, he thought with a "Tsk."

"So that's it, huh?" Wukong pulled out one of his 'politician' smiles, as Macaque liked to call them. "Well, how 'bout we make a deal then, yeah? You let my kid go, unharmed, and I'll see about getting you all of that and more," he offered, using the kind of tone of voice you'd have when joking around with a friend.

Wukong felt one if his brows twitch when he caught the demon rolling his eyes with a smirk, looking smug. "Do you take me for a fool, Great Sage?" he questioned.

Yes, Wukong desperately wanted to answer. Anyone with half a mind would.

"I know of your tricks. Hell, after all the preparations I've gone through to get to where I am now, I'd say I even know you better than yourself!" he confessed, practically radiating with confidence with the way he puffed his chest out.

Wukong barely suppressed a snort. He saw Xiaotian bite his bottom lip and look away, eyes half lidded and expression practically the very definition of unimpressed.

Wukong suppresses a grin at the sight. That's my boy.

"Now ..." The demon lifted the arm he was using to hold Xiaotian in place up to the boy's neck and pulled him closer, the barrel of his gun once again returning to his temple. "Seeing as how I have you right where I want you at last, I say we discuss your inevitable defeat to—"

The demon was cut off by the abrupt sound of his men screaming out in agony from outside the room, followed by a persistent, almost pleading, knocking on the door.

"Sir! Sir, please! It's an emergency!" the voice of a younger demon spoke from outside, sounding panicked.

Wukong turned to the door, brows raised and interest piqued just as the demon released a frustrated groan.

"You may enter," he told, albeit reluctantly.

In an instant, the door was opened, revealing the younger demon's disheveled appearance and the blood coating his skin and attire in splatters.

Wukong perked up slightly. Had the backup he called for finally come? (Took them long enough.)

"What is it?" The demon took a step back, obviously stunned by his subordinate's troubling appearance. "What's going on out there?!" He growled.

"I-I'm not sure, sir!" the lower demon answered, visibly shaking. "S-some broad j-just—"

He was cut off before he could even finish his sentence by a silver dagger abruptly piercing through his throat, taking the life of his eyes away and leaving only his corpse to fall to the floor in a pool of its own blood.

Wukong blinked, pleasantly surprised. Not at the lower ranking demon's sudden death, but at the fact that he had never seen any of his own men wield a dagger in that style before.

"N-no ..." Ears flickering at the crime lord's voice, Wukong returned his attention to him and nearly did a double take when he saw that he was now trembling where he stood: eyes wide and face for some reason more horrified that it had been when the Great Sage entered the room.

What ...

The sound of heels clicking against the floor and then coming to a stop behind him made Wukong's ears flicker a second time, and the Monkey King turned around to see just what—who had inspired such fear into the demon who had been so proud earlier before him.

He found his breath hitching in his throat before he could stop himself.

Standing in the doorway in a sleek black dress and thigh high boots, there stood yet another mystical monkey much like him and Macaque, yet so different at the same time.

"Excuse me, Cheng Xue of this sector's crime syndicate ..." she spoke, voice eerily calm and eyes luminous. "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting this little meeting of yours, but ... tell me ..."

She smiled, sharpened thorns made of gold glimmering in her hands as she raised them into the light.

"May I have the honor of taking your life this evening?"

Against his will, Wukong let a shudder travel down his spine.

The demon, too caught up in his own fear, stumbled further away from the ethereal beauty standing at the door, her whisper of death enough to make his pulse race and send his arms into an unexpected spasm that sent Xiaotian falling to the side on the floor right next to the very gun his life had been threatened with.

"N-no, you ... YOU CAN'T!" he cried, back meeting the desk and putting a stop to his tracks. "I RAN AWAY CENTURIES AGO! I OWE THEM NOTHING, YOU HEAR ME?! NOTHING!!"

The monkey draped in ebony stepped closer, her smile never leaving and her eyes remaining pinned on her target as though he were a silly little mouse that had fallen into a cat's claws.

"I WILL NOT DIE THIS WAY!" the demon continued deliriously. "I WAS SO CLOSE! SO CLOSE, YOU HEAR?! YOU CAN NOT DO THIS TO ME!"

Another step forward.

The demon flinched back violently and opened his mouth yet again, a shriek on the tip of his tongue.

All that followed after, though, was the mere sound of his body falling backwards onto the desk: his mask of horror, forever engraved on his face, now painted with a crimson that ran down his forehead from the thorn-like blade that had been thrown directly into the center of it.

The room was silent after that, allowing the occupants to take a moment to process what had just transpired until two of them snapped out of their stunned daze and ran to eachother—one of them tackling the other in a bone-crushing hug.

"Holy shit, kid." Wukong felt as though a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again," he decided.

Xiaotian only let out a watery laugh in reply and snuggled further into his father's chest, his hands shaky as he gripped the fabric of his suit.

Amidst their heartfelt reunion, Wukong lifted his gaze up to the lady of thorns, wanting to ask if she was single thank her for stepping in when she did—even if she most likely didn't originally come here to save them some trouble.

What he quickly discovered, however, was that she was no longer there.

Instead, what once sat in her place was that of a red rose with thorns.

#lego monkie kid #sun wukong x reader #jttw triad au #triad au #skittles's triad au #sorry for the abrupt ending i couldn't think of anything else to add haha #might make a part two. who knows #one shot #sun wukong #qi xiaotian #mk #lmk sun wukong #lmk mk

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hana-no-seiiki · 2 years ago

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a/n: first full genshin fic in tumblr let’s go.

we’ve had god readers but what about god complex reader who’s a smartass.

without further ado i present to you the flowers of evil au! (which i will actually explain more in another post but for now have this)

divider by omiyours!

no beta read we die like rukkhadevata’s god friends

summary: reader is basically wanderer but a slut

cw/tw: self indulgent, wish fulfillment, manipulative! reader, asshat/arrogant! reader, implied noncon (reader gets drunk), alhaitham being incredibly horny, alhaitham being a homewrecker, kaveh doesn’t have any self esteem, very snobby ass intellectualism, mary sue/gary stu reader.

pairings: yandere! al-haitham x spy! reader x yandere! kaveh x ? ? ?

“RED ROSES BURN MY EYES”

V O L U M E ( I )

[Y/N] [L/N] is the epitome of perfection. Even amongst the scholars that excelled in their fields, and the sages that basically ruled over the Akademiya. [Y/N] always managed to stand out.

Part of that is what attracted Al-Haitham. They were intelligent, and quick-witted. He found himself effortlessly engaging in conversation for hours when it came to their banters. Everything he was looking for in a partner — both in academics, romantic and sexual side of things — could be found in [Y/N].

But there were two things he had to consider.

The first thing was their awful(ly hot) god complex.

“Told you I’d be correct.” [Y/N] sat atop his desk. Their legs crossed, practically begging to be ripped apart as the scribe fantasized of bending them over the nth time that day.

Their intoxicatingly sweet yet mature scent — of roses and old books — wafted through the air and into his nostrils. It took all he had to not pin them on his table so that he could breathe it in. He wanted their scent to be permanently ingrained within his mind like the languages and manuscripts he’d memorized to heart.

But alas he had to at least maintain a modicum of sanity and control over his hormones. He replied, trying to edge away from their form, “You don’t have to rub it in my face, [L/N].”

But it was getting rather hard when they began leaning over “Fair is fair, Scribe. You get to gloat when you win, and I as well during the many triumphs I have over you. So, what are you supposed to say in this situation?”

“I was wrong to go against your judgement.”

You poke his nose. A mocking grin on your disgustingly pretty features, “I knew you had it in you.”

He could tolerate the first thing. In fact, he found it attractive at times. It’s what attracted him to the idea of dating them; owning them, the desire to rip that smug look on their face. To make their face contort to that of unfettered desire. To bring them down and off their high horse and instead kneeling — yearning for his touch, his lips, his cock.

The second thing was the fact that they were dating his roommate. That darned Kaveh.

“My love.” Al-Haitham could swear Kaveh smirked at him as the latter mouthed his petname for you.

“You’re late.”

“They’re sending me away for a project.”

“What?” Oh, [Y/N]’s concerned face however? Hurt even more. The palpable love between the couple made him want crush the book within his hands and throw its remains across the library. He’d tell you two to get a room if he didn’t want eyes on you 24/7.

“It’s just another construction. I’ll be back soon.”

“Stay safe.”

Al-Haitham couldn’t help but stare at your back while the two of you left him alone.

Was that a smile - no - a smirk on your features?

It was a mistake on your part. You should have known not to get drunk on enemy territory.

But your one success as a spy finally came. You had to celebrate somehow, right?

Wrong.

In your mistake in judgement you found yourself tangled with Al-Haitham of all people. How’d he even get drunk enough to sleep with you anyways? He couldn’t have purposely have sex with you, could he? All your interactions have been those of rivals and friends at most.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“We’re adults [L/N]. You don’t have to act like this.” Stop acting like this. Al-Haitham wanted to scream. He couldn’t take it anymore. He missed your presence so dearly. If only you could see the mess that had been his room and office.

“Exactly. Adults. I can make my own choices and I choose not to interact with you. I’m doing this for the sake of staying civil. For Kaveh.”

“I’ll tell him about your lord.” You paused.

No, you couldn’t have. Your [e/c] orbs slowly turned a velvet red while he continued his speech. Were you that careless? Were the words your co-workers used to describe you true?

That you were an absolutely useless, reckless piece of rot?

“The way you screamed his name while I—“

His? Ah, so he didn’t know their name. You probably just screamed My Lord and he automatically assumed…

He’s bluffing.

“Then go ahead.” You couldn’t help but grin knowing that you finally didn’t mess up in a mission. So what if he said those words to Kaveh, your mission to distract the Light of Kshahrewar had been a success. All you needed was to leave once everything had been finalized and your god had been reborn. “This may not be Focalors’s nation, but this sort of conduct could get you in jail, Scibe.”

“By who? Cyno hates me, sure. But if there’s one person he loathes more than me it’s you.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“No, [Y/N]. We’ll talk about this now.”

“Why are you so persistent—“

“Because I love you!”

Al-Haitham grabbed unto your face, squeezing so tightly you knew it’d bruise, “I think about you every single day, hour, minute — every damn second even. I can’t get a single paper fully transcribed because I always end up writing your name over and over again as if I’ll forget it any second.”

“That’s impossible. You can’t love me. No. That isn’t supposed to happen.”

“[L/N]. I know you’re a skeptic but doubting my feelings is—“

“You were never my target.”

Al-Haitham gasped as red petals enveloped his entire body.

“My lord. May you forgive this forsaken soul. Grant this servant a place beside your holy being as you ascend—“

His throat, his nose, even his eyes — all burnt under the heavy scent of roses.

“and accept this sacrifice.”

You looked at him solemnly. If only you weren’t so incompetent, he wouldn’t have been roped into this.

Your time with the roommates was fun while it lasted.

“Oh Lord of Flowers.”

[FOOTNOTE:]

In the end, [Y/N] could not kill him. It was always like this. Their missions always went wrong. It’s anyone guess really — why they haven’t been thrown away by their lord. They were defective at best. Completely useless at worst.

So they were commanded to be a honey trap. Someone made to lure in and distract an assigned target while the rest of the Zuhur, came in to assassinate and/or thieve around.

“Kaveh.” You greeted. Shit, you shouldn’t have gone back to his place to check for lose ends. Wasn’t he supposed to be away anyhow? What was he doing in the Akademiya?

“Where are you going?”

“I—I’m leaving.” You had recently finished drugging Al-Haitham and sending him to the sages to deal with. Time was ticking, and you had to be there for when your new master breathes his first as a brand new god. “to get some samples for research. Meet up with the Forest Rangers and all that.”

“Does lying to me get you off or something?” Kaveh stopped you in your tracks, he didn’t have to hold you still, the hurt in his voice was enough.“I know about it. About your affair with Haitham.”

“Then—“

“And I’m fine with it.”

“What?”

“You- You can meet up with him all you like. I already knew someone like me couldn’t possibly satisfy a being such as you.”

“Just don’t leave me ever. Please?”

“Kaveh . . .”

“I promise to never get between you guys. I swear I-I’m not jealous at all. You deserve to receive all the love you can get.”

“Kaveh!” You cried. Who was this person? The Kaveh you knew was loud and boisterous. In fact, you used him and Al-Haitham as a basis to create [Y/N]. The prodigy of the Akademiya.

Who was this weak, broken person that trembled in front of you.

“You deserve someone better than me, alright? Not the other way around.”

“What…?”

“Stay safe and get as far away as you can from the Grand Sage in the next few weeks alright?” You continued your journey away, only stopping to say a few words, “I love you. Truly.”

“If you love me, why would leave me?!”

“I have to.” You clenched your hands, and disappeared.

“(Wardati) وردتي … “

TRANSLATIONS:

flowers = zuhur

وردتي = my rose

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feral-ferrule · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 4

Word count: 3580ish

Fic Masterlist

Echo x Earthling reader OC (reader has a nickname)

Reader is a captive charged with taking care of Echo in the tower on Skako minor.

Music to set the mood

Warnings: I saved this chapter for kinktober💅. mature content 18+ minors dni, graphic depictions of violence and injury, character death, lactation, spontaneous lactation, adult breastfeeding, angst, sexual arousal, psychological trauma, conveniently placed ductwork, self indulgence, mention and quoting of Grapes of Wrath sorry if you had a terrible high school experience with it. Not beta read or well edited, we die like clones here

I kept physical descriptions of Reader as generic as possible. The artwork is very much self portraiture. Artwork and inspiration at the bottom

Still blinking and rubbing your eyes you frowned at the schedule on the med bay’s data pad. They were busy today. Something was up because the connection to the clone was happening around the clock for the next few days. It gave you very little time with him between sessions. You would have to leave his neural connections plugged in and keep him in the control bay instead of going through the lengthier process needed to fully decouple and then reconnect him to the chamber and network. You figured you’d be able to check over and clean him the first time. Then a couple hours after that you could feed him. Depending on how much you were able to get into him at a time, you could play it by ear how many feedings it would take. Setting a timer you settled down to meditate.

A couple hours later at the sound of the timer you set about the process of removing, tending and replacing the man before the next communication connection came in from the war beyond this world. You were grateful for how much the prosthetics handled his hygiene so as to save you from adding insult to his modesty. You tried pouring healing energy through him and sending him comfort and reassurance, but weren’t sure how effective you were since the collar was still well charged.

You were surprised at how little time you really seemed to have in that window. And worried about how quickly you’d be able to feed him with the sponge. Figuring you’d benefit from a look out your window and some breakfast you went down below to the mess and selected a substantial ration pack and electrolyte drink pack. You thought about dairy cows as you stared out your little window and had a sudden breakthrough memory of watching clones on tv while snuggling little people. Guilt over your abandoned family back home and your inability to put all the pieces together threatened to take you down into crippling depression. Which wouldn’t do, you had someone counting on you even if he didn’t know it. So you took a deep breath and went through your short to do list.

Your own nutrition and hydration (practically eating for two)

Wear down the force collar

Express milk

Scan the man

Inject electrolytes- if there’s any left in the supplies

Feed the man

Put him back

Repeat as necessary

You also had a new short list:

Take care of the man

Wait for help

Escape

Finally break down

After some more meditation on the force and a gradual reconnection to it you made your way back up to the stasis room. There was one little paper cup left in the med bay’s cabinet. Great you thought, searching for anything else, but coming up with nothing. You sighed, and set to work.

The man laid on the gurney, his head still attached to the long tubing that snaked down out of the stasis chamber. You quickly scanned him and saw he was indeed low on electrolytes so you gave him the infusion you had prepared. Injecting it through a port on his arm. After raising him up a bit you started talking to him in a soft voice.

“Hey, it’s me again.” His breathing sped up. “Don’t worry, I’m going to feed you with the sponge. Nothing scary today.” You dialed down the network connection a little with the controls on the panel and raised up your goggles and took off your mask and waited to see if he would rouse. His fingers twitched and his eyelids fluttered and you caught a glimpse of golden eyes. As he tried to focus on you he whispered, “You.” Then unfocused, mumbling nonsense, “ct 1409- ct-….”

“Yes it’s me, Choy, I’m going to give you the sponge now.”

You held up the sopping sponge to his lips and he opened his mouth. You figured there were about 40 or 50 calories in the milk you were able to express. Which wasn’t bad to start out with, but wouldn’t be enough as time went on and he was able to tolerate more. And want more. He sucked the sponge dry a last time and you put it and the cup aside.

“Can I touch you?” You asked.

He twitched his hand. You put your hand over his and squeezed gently. He sighed. With the other you soothed his forehead while reaching out to him with your mind to send him calm and safe thoughts. He felt so cold.

“Ner kar’ika.”

You gasped at his words, a tear slipped down your cheek as you studied his face.

**********

You knelt in the dirt and felt into the body and mind of the young clone soldier. The shy shiny you had met on your first day with the 187th. He was writhing and shuddering in pain, his body so broken, lungs flaming up from inhaling so much dust. Limbs fractured into hideous angles and multiple brain bleeds. There was nothing you could do but block his pain and let him die peacefully. As you calmed his pain he relaxed and sighed “Vor entye, ner kar’ika,” and he slipped away. His body and mind went cold and you broke off your connection. There were so many more to help but you couldn’t move from that spot. A hand touched your shoulder, turned you away from the mangled body and brought you into a hug. “You’ve done enough,” a modulated voice said above your ear. You noticed his jumbled energy, his spicy smell, Slick. He pressed a button on his vambrace behind your back.

“What does ‘vor-ent-yay-kareeka’ mean,” you asked him, clutching his curiass and leaning your cheek on his shoulder.

**********

Your clone seemed more peaceful now. You caressed his cheek and he closed his eyes. You let go of his hand, reached over to the console and dialed the network connection back up.

Your tears were coming fast now. He called you one of the clones’ most precious terms of endearment, his star, his little sun, and you were just a complicit agent of his imprisonment. You quickly put him back in the chamber and knelt down to the floor and had a good ugly cry.

It was four hours till the next window. You got up, put your mask and goggles back on and washed out the cup in the sink since it was the last one and threw out the sponge since there were a ton of them. You headed down to your quarters and plopped onto your bunk. Emotionally spent and having had restless, nightmare infested sleep, you drifted off.

Waking with a start to some banging in the distance you checked the time on the small chronometer on your wrist. It was close to time to feed him again, you rushed out to the elevator to get up there but were stopped by some maintenance droids.

“This area is off limits right now for repair work. The elevator isn’t working and we are trying to figure out what caused the malfunction.”

You looked over at the elevator and saw that they had the doors open but the lift was only half way up in the space. There were pieces of parts laying around and a whole crew of droids looking confused. Your heart sank and you cursed the Skakoan cheapskates. “Good working order, my ass,” you huffed under your breath stalking back to the mess. You grabbed a ration bar and water and sat at a long table. You could only fume and curse the Techno Union, the Skakoans, Slick. Everyone involved in this, everyone who was causing all these problems. The greed, the absolute capital greed of it all, and some neverending source of energy to fuel it. You rarely allowed yourself these moments, but sometimes it got to you.

It took them hours to fix the lift, and you were finally scanned and up level. You weren’t sure when the next window was so you checked the data pad. It had all changed, there was a brief one in 50 seconds and another in two days. That can’t be right, but you dashed out of the med bay and began the process of releasing him so you had maximum time with him- oh but you hadn’t expressed any milk!

As you watched the gurney bed lower down the only solution you could think of intimidated the hell out of you. Reenacting the end of Grapes of Wrath with a Star Wars clone was never how you pictured your life going. You turned him over and turned down the network connection more than last time. As you whispered hello to him he woke up a little, looking over at you with his pale eyes. You slid your goggles up and pulled your mask off.

He smiled weakly, “Kar’ika.”

He seemed more lucid. You smiled and stroked his cheek, “Hey, sweetheart, we have to try something new. I’m going to have to, well, feed you directly from my breast.”

If you felt uncomfortable feeding him before, you were now well out of your comfort zone. Way way out. But this was literally life or death for him so you shoved down all your social programming and questions of consent. You raised him up enough to breast level and pulled your top down in the front and popped the boob closest to him out of your breast band. He looked from your breasts to your face.

“It was my milk I fed you, it’s the only thing I can give you to keep you alive.” Your heart felt like it was going to flutter out of your chest and you had a hard time maintaining eye contact.

His eyes locked onto your chest and darkened.

You supported your breast from underneath and leaned closer to his face bringing your nipple to his lips.

“Please don’t bite.”

He opened his mouth with a studdering breath and drew your nipple in onto his tongue sealing his lips around it. This was really happening. His nose pressed into the plush of your boob.

And he sucked.

Your let-down reflex sprang into action and both breasts released a torrent of milk. You felt him choke a bit and his eyes opened wider. Looking up at you.

You didn’t think you could get more mortified. “I’m sorry sweetie, I can’t help when that happens.” You used your sleeve to dab at the dribble of milk around his lips and smiled down at him.

He swallowed and smiled against you and kept suckling. The sensation sent a twinge straight down a nerve to your core, which set off more tingling behind your nipples as a feedback loop of stimulation circled through your body. After a few more swallows you said, “I need you to switch sides so I’m not uneven.” You popped your nipple out of his mouth, his top teeth barely grazing it, and tucked your breast band over it. Shifting your body slightly and leaning over a little more you sprang your much more engorged and damp tit out and pressed it to his lips.

The pressure in your lower belly and tickle deep in your core activated again as he latched on and gazed up at you. It took your breath away and you had to remember to stay standing. He groaned a bit through his nose and you were sure he would try to wrap his arms around you if he could. You longed for you both to hold each other, but continued to stand by his side, maintaining a tiny bit of propriety. He drained an equal amount from that side and you tapped the tip of his nose.

“I have to go, sweetie,” you tried to say in a steady tone. Your heart felt fluttery, “I’m sorry, you don’t want to over do it.” He swallowed and you pulled back out of his suction gently till he released your nipple with a wet pop. You tucked yourself back into your breast band and fastened your shirt back at the shoulder. You noticed that he could barely keep his eyes open. You caressed the side of his face humming a quiet melody.

“Yaiyai…ika,” he nuzzled into your hand before closing his beautiful golden eyes and drifting off to sleep. Stretching back you dialed up the neural connection again and let him stay upright a few minutes while you hummed more of the song. This allowed his stomach to settle before laying him flat and raising him back into place in the chamber. Just in time for the next network link.

You felt so many things. Arousal. This was something hard wired. His mouth drawing milk from you sent a wild sensation through your whole body, woke something deep. Guilt. You still had the sense of betraying him by putting him back.

And you were grateful that he didn’t bite you.

Waiting two days to see him was torture and it worried you. This was going to hurt, whatever ended up happening to him. Even if you were able to get him to safety, or help would come and rescue him you’d go your separate ways right? You forced that thought down. Your hormones were probably off the charts while he nursed from you which made you feel a bond. He probably wouldn’t even remember any of this or you, right?

You spent these days in your sleep clothes, exercising, meditating, checking his vitals, and shower sessions of manual milk expression because the tits were fully primed now and they seemed to think they had a whole squad to feed. Your brain decided to play the milkshake song. This was not helping with your internal conflict of enjoying breastfeeding a not fully conscious grown man who you didn’t even know. You couldn't stop thinking about him. How he'd flesh out under your care, how the light would come back to his eyes and he would be able to hold you as you held him. Put his mouth other places. OK Stop.

Lenny and Squiggy came by each night to put a new battery in your collar. And each time you were given a brief exposure to the force which you used to stretch your mind and call out for help.

The Skakoans commed you at one point. Their fleshy heads flickering in and out of focus in the holo beam. You gave vague answers, it felt like they were hoping you failed somehow.

Finally the time came to get the man down again. You ate some awful bars for breakfast, changed into some clean day clothes and boots and went up to the med bay to double check the schedule. It showed two windows today and a late one tonight. Good, you’d be able to use the first one for general care and then two feedings. It was hard to gauge how much milk he was getting in him so you decided to just monitor his electrolytes and slowly increase your feeling of emptying with each feeding.

This procedure went well for a few days. He seemed to be filling out and didn’t look so close to death. The sessions continued to affect you and the sensation was getting stronger along with the clone. This was the first time since you’d been in this universe that your breasts weren’t so full and heavy. You were feeling lighter and freer than you had since back home.

Your ability to feed him, to save his life with your own body felt empowering. It gave you a fresh confidence in yourself even if it was just a bodily function and probably the force’s effect. But it gave you power over your sadistic captors who intended to dispose of this man and to punish you for things out of your control, most likely to get out of their contract and keep you.

The days blended together and at some point the mechanism that elevated the head of the bed stopped working. This had you climbing up on the demagnetized table and holding him in your arms in a variety of positions, always mindful to block the view of the occasional patrol droid that would peak in the room on its rotation. You didn’t want to bring attention to the malfunction since word would get back to the Skakoans and there’d be too many questions. Your clone seemed to respond well, liking the closeness and human touch as much as you did. You hadn’t realized how touch starved you had become in the last two years. So you decided you’d dial the network control down more the next time so he could benefit more from some cuddles more lucidly.

But the next time didn’t happen.

Alarms blaring and the sound of blaster fire and shouting somewhere above in the tower woke you from a dream about that very thing. It was so vivid - men rescuing the clone and battleing a droid army with the local natives. You realized it was a memory and not just a dream and this place was in the central plot. Was that good or bad? There was a Jedi here you realized with excitement. The rest of it was still fuzzy but this was it, the rescue, and it had you changing and packing fast. You slung your duffel straps over your shoulder like a backpack, put your mask and goggles on and opened your door

-and there were Lenny and Squiggy.

“We have orders to evacuate you if we are attacked” said Lenny “ Follow us.” You sighed and followed them out to the elevator which opened to a smoking and gaping hole. The droids looked at eachother. “We will have to wait for the lift to be repaired to take you to the safe room at the base of the tower.”

“Ok well I’m going to go use the refresher, I’ll be right back ok thanks you guys, always my heros.” You tapped each of them on their snoots.

They puffed up and saluted you. “Roger Roger, ma’am. “

You did indeed go to the barrack’s refresher, but only to access the air ductwork through a panel that you figured was connected to the cooling system in the floor above. It was large enough for you to shimmy up through it using your arms and feet to brace and climb. You had your small duffel on your head, pushing it ahead of you as you wriggled and inched your way up and finally made it to the next grate.

Peeking through you could see the stasis room. A black ball hovered in the air near the open stasis chamber, jagged purple electric lighting streaking out of it touching all the surfaces. The man was gone, you noticed, and intense worry settled deep in your stomach. You decided to keep climbing to the next level. When you reached the next grate you pushed and pounded it with your fist and it popped out with a clatter. Dragging your duffel down and shoving it through the opening you reached through and braced your shoulders outside the hole. When you pulled yourself out into the room the shaft behind you shuddered with a blast of air. Something must have blown up down there. Now you were very concerned.

You were in the cooling system, it seemed from the chill. There were some muffled sounds down one of the passageways so you cautiously crept that way. A couple turns down the corridor you saw something odd on the floor. Crouching down you saw that it was the clone’s catheter and bag. Oh dang that couldn’t have felt good coming out. But good riddance. You thought grimly about his stoma that would need surgical correction. You looked up, hearing shouts.

After a time of picking and choosing twists and turns, following sounds, you came to an opening to the outside and pressed yourself to the wall next to it. You had caught a glimpse of a blaster fight happening on the pipe that extended out to another tower. You peeked out and saw droids firing on soldiers and a Jedi who were standing and hanging off of the pipe. Then there was a horrible screeching noise and massive flying creatures swarmed the air around the tower. The Jedi shouted and jumped off, landing on a beast. Then another two. You saw one was your clone and you leaned out of the opening to get a better look. It was definitely him and he was flying away on one of the creatures. As the last of the men jumped onto the creatures the droids deployed their wings and flew after them.

The wind whistled. You weren’t sure what to do now. So you sat against the wall tucked inside the tower and looked out to the other up in the clouds across the pipe. Their experiment was gone and the facility probably destroyed. Your contract would be ‘renegotiated’ for sure now. The door on the other side was still open. You could carefully walk across to it and you’d have a better chance at escape. You tried to stretch your mind out into the force but the collar was still too charged for a strong connection. Everything had happened so fast this morning and you felt a compulsion to see that your sweet clone, a main character and hero in this world, made it out safe. So you took a deep breath and stepped out onto the pipe.

🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛inspiration🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛

'Rose of Sharon loosened one side of the blanket and bared her breast... Her hand moved behind his head and supported it. Her fingers moved gently in his hair. She looked up and across the barn, and her lips came together and smiled mysteriously.’ Grapes of Wrath, Steinbeck

My art and the inspiration Roman Charity by Lorenzo Pasinelli c. 1670

#kinktober #clone kinktober #echo my beloved #clone wars #clone trooper echo #breastfeeding #cw breastfeeding a grown man #ferrule does art🤌#ferrule writes #the bad batch #star wars clone wars

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octo-artist · 8 months ago

Text

Calm Before the Inkstorm

Pre-war yan! Octavio x reader x platonic pre-war yan! Craig

Chapter 2: bright afternoons

Tw: toxic relationship, controlling behaviors, general yandere tendencies, slight abuse warning, abuse of power, no beta we die like men.

I do not condone the actions in this fic, if you are in a toxic relationship please seek out help.

Certain parts are heavily inspired by Dissonant melodies by DriftingNova

Y/N = Your name

T/C = Tentacle color

E/C = Eye color

Mastserlist Previous chapter Next chapter

———————————————————————

The next day rolled around, Craig and Octavio once again speaking, this time looking over some sheet music Craig had provided.

“What kind of slimy hipster writes sheet music with 10 notes in an octave?!” Octavio exclaimed in confusion as he read the sheet music.

“Well I’m self-taught, and ten was a number that made sense to me. What do you use?”, Craig responded to which Octavio yelled, “Eight! That’s why it’s called an OCTave”

Y/N chuckled at the duo from where they were watching and working.

“Man who knew being in a real band would be so difficult…”, Craig sighed as he fell back with his arms behind his head.

“Real band? Psh.” Octavio brushed off as he continued reading the papers, “this is the first time we’ve met up to practice. We’ve never even played in front of an audience.”

Shooting up waving his hands up and down Craig exclaims, “AN AUDIENCE! THAT'S WHAT WE NEED. The neighboring village is hosting a festival tomorrow night! We should go perform ~A fresh festival of song and spectacle~” when he finishes Octavio looks up at Craig confused while Y/N smiles and chuckles at Craig’s excitement.

“I think that would be a splendid idea don’t you Tavi?” Y/N says over their shoulder to the duo, “a festival sounds like fun!”

“As appealing an idea it is, there’s no way I’d be allowed to jam with commoners like that”, Octavio states returning to the sheets of paper he was holding.

Craig, confused and disappointed, asks, “Why not?”

“Well I mean, im… I’m the future octarian king. I have to watch my image.” Octavio states plainly as he looks at Craig.

“Wait…” Craig processing the information soon exclaims, “YOU'RE ROYALTY?!”

Y/N bursts out laughing hysterically at Craig’s denseness as Octavio shouts back “Of course I am! I told you I was a PRINCE!”

“WHA- I thought that was just a STAGE NAME!” Craig cries out in shock.

“YOU'RE SITTING IN PALACE!!” Octavio shouts back the argument, making Y/N’s laughter worse as they set down their gardening tools to kneel down and catch their breath.

Octavio taking notice sighs saying, “Great we broke Y/N”

Craig holds his face looking at the ground talking to himself, “w-wow… Real royalty.”

Pinching his nose Octavio grumbles, “I had to lie and tell the guards you wet the son of some inkling governor to let you in. No way I can just walk out.”

Snapping out of his stupor Craig looks to Octavio and suggests, “Well, what if you snuck out?I mean no offense but I snuck IN twice!” He points at the wall continuing, “you could put on a disguise and jump the fence ~with all the flash and flair of a rebel prince~”

“Huh, a ‘rebel prince’” thinking it over, Octavio grins and states, “You know what cap’n, I like your style! Tomorrow night I’m goin off the grid!”

Time flew as the days passed, the next evening closing in as Y/N sat in Octavio’s room, the prince making final adjustments to his disguise. “Well don’t you look dashing in that.” Y/N teased causing a deep maroon blush to cross Octavio’s face as he tries to hide it with a smirk and responding, “you’re so lucky I need to be ready for when Craig arrives because otherwise I’d get you back for that little comment my dear.”

“Speaking of being ready, I should return to my room to change into my own street clothes so I can come see the two of yo-“, Y/N began.

Interrupting them Octavio says “I don’t know Y/N I worry you’d get lost in the crowd or hurt if you go, folks are unpredictable, maybe hang back and wait for me to return?”

“Tavi, that's not fair, I want to see the two of you perform… I can handle myself fine and I won’t stray far from the stage”, Y/N argued back.

Octavio halted his preparations to approach Y/N kneeling down to where they were seated. “Y/N you know I love you and I just want what’s best for you, and what’s best is for you to stay here where it’s safe. Maybe next time you can come with us but if we get caught you could get in serious trouble with the council.”

His tone was firm, as if to try to leave no room for arguments, leaning in he gave Y/N a kiss before standing up again and grabbing his instrument. “I’ll be back soon, keep the bed warm yea?” He smirks saying that last part before dipping out into the darkened garden to sneak out.

“‘Keep the bed warm yea?’” Y/N says in a mocking tone before scoffing, “As if, I’m going and he can’t stop me! I’m a grown inkling and I can handle myself just fine!” And with that statement they stand up and march off to their quarters to change out of their work clothes and into something more comfortable. Biding the guards at the entrance goodnight as they leave.

“Let’s see, money; check, pocket watch; check, bag; checkeroo. Looks like I’m good to go. Music festival here I come! Sorry tavi but I’m not missing out on a night of fun!” At this Y/N happily jogs down to the nearby village lit up with colorful lanterns and abuzz with excitement and life. The sound of children laughing and cephalopods from all over laughing and singing filling Y/N with a sense of peace and joy. The air carried the savory scent of crabby cakes and the sweetness of sugary desserts. Vendors lined the pathway displaying a variety of goods and games.

“Hmmm I know Mia was disappointed she couldn’t make it to the festival since she was on rotation tonight so maybe I should get her something to make her feel better. She’s got a sweet tooth so maybe I can get her some dango and candies.” Y/N thought as they browsed the stalls. Finding one filled with various desserts all nicely packaged they found what they were looking for, paying the vendor and carefully placing the packaged sweets in their bag with a smile.

As Y/N approaches the center of town they hear the stage announcement for Octavio and Craig’s group Out of the Blue, picking up their pace they find a spot in the crowd to watch the performance excited for their friend and lover. Soon the duo stepped out and prepared to start, only for it to come out quite disjointed causing the inkling to cringe a bit in response to the sound. The two quietly argue on the stage before starting again, still a bit out of time but significantly better than before. As the two wrapped up, Y/N noticed Octavio’s gaze landing on them and could feel his anger at the fact they didn’t stay put like he’d told them to.

“Looks like I’m getting scolded when we get back…”, Y/N thought as they began to realize the flaw in their plans. “Oh well, at least it was fun while it lasted”

As Y/N turned to walk off and continue perusing the area they were soon stopped when a rather miffed Octavio called out to them, “Oh no you don’t, Y/N get your ass over here right now!”

Y/N weighing their choices carefully speeds off not wanting to be scolded in the middle of a crowd, Octavio chasing after them leaving a very confused and concerned Craig to wait for the results when the upset prince told him to wait there.

“Y/N get back here right now!”, Octavio yelled after them, garnering a few folks' attention.

“Nope, not till you’ve cooled off!”, Y/N responded weaving between people, ducking into a less crowded street to try and move a bit easier, only to quickly be snatched up by the angry prince who had caught up with the lack of cephalopods in the area. “You were saying?”, He states holding Y/N up off the ground.

“Oh come on you can’t honestly think i’d miss out on a festival did you? You know how much I love them!”, Y/N pleads their case in hopes of getting octavio to let go of the situation and just return to the festival and have fun. Octavio, leaning in closely pinning Y/N to a nearby wall out of sight, responds, “If you think I’m going to let you off easy when you deliberately disobeyed me both as your partner and prince you are sorely mistaken. But that will have to wait till we’ve gotten back to the palace. Here is hardly the place for you to receive your… punishment.”

At this he pulls away releasing Y/N from the wall but holding onto their hand tightly so they don’t slip away, leading them back to the festival where Craig is waiting with participation ribbons, Octavio grumbling at not even getting a proper placement in the competition.

Craig sensing the tension asks, “hey is everything alright? Y'all kinda just ran off suddenly and it seems like something happened…”

“Everything is fine, just a typical lovers spat.”, Octavio snaps before taking a breath, “let’s just get going, the festival is almost over so we might as well leave now.” This suggestion prompting a look of annoyance from Y/N who had wished to spend more time at the festival.

“Oh well, ok then, how about we go hang out at the treehouse for a bit before y’all get cooped up in the palace again.” Craig suggests

“I-“, Octavio begins before Y/N cuts him off saying, “That sounds nice! Don’t you agree tav? I know once we get back we’d just be heading to bed so why not stay up a little longer?”

Octavio looks at Y/N shocked only to grumble out an agreement.

“Great! Just follow me! It’s not much but it’s home away from home.”, Craig begins to ramble as they walk, Octavio slowing down to whisper in Y/N’s ear, “don’t think I’ll forget about your punishment for disobeying me. You’re just delaying the inevitable.” This statement making Y/N sweatdrop knowing that they’re going to have a hard time walking the coming morning once they’ve returned to the palace.

#yandere dj octavio x reader #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #dj octavio #calm before the inkstorm #CBtI #yandere splatoon x reader #yandere octavio #reader insert #yandere x reader #yandere fics #yandere dj octavio #dj octavio x reader #captain craig cuttlefish #craig splatoon #craig cuttlefish

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slow-motionlovepotion · 2 years ago

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𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 | 𝒃.𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: SonsBestFriend!Bucky x OlderWoman!Reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3.2k

𝒂/𝒏: a very simple plot bunny (college Bucky likes milfs) got out of hand so please enjoy 3k words of pure Christmas smut. no beta, we die like men.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ - age gap (21ish!Bucky x mid-late 40s/early 50s!Reader), explicit language, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, inappropriate relationship, infidelity, a lil bit of subby Bucky - minors do not interact.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Your sons best friend comes to stay for Christmas

Bucky Barnes stands in the doorway of the kitchen smirking. Eyes trailing up and down your body, pausing at your glossy red lips, the peak of cleavage in the v-neck of your dress, and the curve of your hips. You can feel his eyes on you but you don’t look over.

You definitely didn’t dress up for Bucky, you didn’t pick this dress with its neckline more revealing than normal, you’re definitely not wearing the lipstick he complimented the last time he visited.

You definitely haven’t made an effort to impress Bucky Barnes.

“Anything else to go out?” he asks casually, like he’s not spent the last five minutes blatantly checking you out

Bucky’s been a darling all day, insisting on helping you with the prep for your annual Christmas party, taking round plates of appetisers, chatting to Mrs Marshall from next door, ensuring your wine is never empty.

“Just this, if you wouldn’t mind” you finish plating the mince pies and hand the tray to Bucky, his fingers brush yours as he takes the tray off you and his touch feels electric.

When your son mentioned Bucky was planning to stay at university over the Christmas break you’d extended an invitation almost immediately, your house was plenty big enough and you always cooked too much for just the three of you. And Bucky had been so lovely when he’d come to stay for your husband’s recent birthday, you couldn't stand the thought of him spending Christmas alone.

“Thanks for having me” his words are muffled by his face pressed into your shoulder, arms wrapped around you in the most welcome hug.

“Nonsense, can’t be having you alone at Christmas” you loosen your embrace, immediately missing the heat of his body.

“This is for you” he blushes, handing you a bottle of wine.

You take the bottle, noticing the label as your favourite “Bucky you shouldn’t have”

“My ma taught me you never show up to a woman’s house empty handed” Bucky winks at you, the implication not missed.

You’re in the kitchen wiping down the counters when Bucky finds you at the end of the night.

The majority of the guests had gone, just two of your husband's golf buddies left outside, smoking cigars and drinking some expensive whiskey with your husband and son, the same tradition every year.

“Everything alright sweetie?” His cheeks and nose are red from the cold and he’s rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

“Yeah, I thought I'd come see if you needed any help with anything.” He leans against the counter and you can’t help but think he looks very comfortable in your kitchen, almost like he belongs there.

“Oh, everything’s all done don’t worry” Bucky notices your empty glass on the side and goes to refill it but you place your hand over the top to stop him

“I shouldn't” you explain.

Bucky scoffs at you “One more, it's Christmas” He can tell you’re almost persuaded, “How about I join you?” He takes another glass out the cupboard and you remove your hand from your glass.

Bucky hands the full glass to you, holding his out you clink your glass to his “Cheers”

You barely take a sip of your wine before the glass is pulled from your hand and Bucky’s lips are on yours.

One hand reaches for your waist, the fingers of his other hand trace the line of your jaw, tipping your head back as it does. Your hands grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer as all self control dissipates.

There’s no explanation if you’re caught like this, your son and husband only outside. Your husband who, in all your years of marriage, had never once treated you like this. Your husband who’s sleeping with his secretary. The brief pang of guilt disappearing at the thought.

Bucky’s lips feel like fire against yours, searing hot and stealing your breath. You wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you into the kitchen island, his lips burning a trail down your throat and chest as you wrap your legs around his hips.

As a woman of a certain age, you’d learnt a few things over the years. You certainly had a bit more experience than the young man grinding between your legs.

“Bucky…Bucky” a muffled hum of acknowledgment comes from between your breasts

“Bucky. Get on your knees” his head shoots up at the instruction and he slides to the floor, eyes never leaving yours.

You want to take your time with him, tease him, get him all worked up before giving him everything he wants but it’s too risky.

Dragging your dress up your thighs, you slide to the edge of the counter. Bucky takes this as his que and dives his head between your spread legs, licking a stripe over your already damp underwear. Lifting yourself up from the counter Bucky helps you slide your underwear down your legs before he slips them into his back pocket. His head is back between your thighs, tongue working your cunt, focused on pulling the pleasure out of you as quickly as he can.

Bucky’s all enthusiasm, lacking the finesse of a more mature man but his eagerness makes up for it. His arms wrap around your thighs, holding you against his mouth as he sweeps his tongue against your entrance, you can feel your wetness practically puddling on the counter.

He’s a quick study, so when his nose bumps your clit and your breath hitches, he moves his attention, pressing soft kisses to your clit before lapping and sucking with chaotic fervour.

“Fuck, that’s it Bucky” he groans against your core, the vibrations edging you closer to your climax. Keeping his attention on your clit he slides a thick finger into you, adding a second that makes you gasp, the gentle stretch making your eyes flutter and your head fall back.

“Yes baby, yes, so good” You slide your fingers into his hair, holding him close as you rock your hips against him, legs shaking as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of utter bliss. A gentle crook of his finger has you crashing over the edge, waves of pure pleasure lapping over you.

Bucky continues his relentless assault on your clit, sucking harder and licking sloppily, his fingers still buried in your cunt, coaxing that sweet spot “Again” Bucky mumbles against your clit, you open your mouth to protest, your first orgasm not even over but you can already feel the pressure building again. Your hips rock without your control and a gentle graze of his teeth on your clit has you gripping his hair as the force of your second orgasm overwhelms every fibre of your being. You let out a quiet sob as you pass your peak, legs trembling, and completely breathless.

Your hand in Bucky’s hair guides his head back, looking down at his swollen and wet lips, the throbbing between your legs is almost painful. He’s breathing hard and his eyes are soft and needy. You release the grip on his hair, moving your hand to lift his chin, running your thumb along his lips

“Good boy” your praise sends a shiver through him and there's no hiding the desperation in his eyes.

The sound of the back door opening crashes you both back down to earth. Faster than lighting Bucky stands and helps you down from the counter, you quickly grab a tea towel, pretending you’ve just finished washing up. Bucky bends over the island, burying his face in his wine, hiding the swelling in his jeans and the sticky mess you left behind on the counter.

Your husband's golf buddies wave at you as they pass the kitchen “Bye Jim, Bye Nick” you smile and wave as they leave, you look like the perfect housewife and if only they knew. Your husband stumbles a few steps behind them, clearly he’s overdone it on the Shiraz this evening.

The drinking had become a bit of a habit for him and on nights like this you put him to bed and sleep in the spare room. You’re always up before him anyway, and if he notices he’s never said anything. Your husband wobbles and your son catches him “I’ll put him to bed” he nods at you knowingly “C’mon dad, lets go” Your husband mumbles something as your son leads him up the stairs.

You’re left in the kitchen with Bucky, you can feel your wetness sticky between your thighs, a delicious reminder of what you’ve just done. You’re absentmindedly fiddling with your wedding rings and Bucky notices.

Truthfully, you hadn’t been wearing them much recently, your relationship with your husband could be described as rocky at best. You had to laugh at the irony when you found out about your husband and his secretary. He didn’t know you knew and you weren’t ready to deal with that yet. You hadn’t decided what you were going to do and didn’t want your son to think anything was wrong, so you’d put your rings back on to keep up appearances.

“You okay?” There’s concern in his voice but it’s underlined with lust, he stands and you can see the thick outline of his cock straining his jeans.

Upstairs you hear your son’s voice as he answers a call and the sound of his door closing leaving the rest of the house in silence. You ponder your next move for a moment before bringing your wine to your lips, you tip your head back, finishing the last of it, Bucky follows suit.

Taking Bucky’s hand you lead him down the stairs to his room, thankful for your foresight to purchase a house with a separate guest suite, two floors away from the bedrooms currently occupied by your husband and son.

Bucky enters the room first, settling himself on the end of the bed. You close the door behind you and pause for a second, resting your back against the cool wood.

“Come’re” Bucky’s words are barely a whisper, you can hear the desperation in his voice and the desire flashing in his eyes.

You take a few steps towards him, stopping just out of reach

“Please” He begs and reaches out for you, hands hooking behind your knee, bringing it to the bed by his hips, copying the motion with your other leg, sliding his hands up your thighs to pull you down against him. Your bare cunt meets the fabric of his jeans and the thick line of his cock. The moan in the back of your throat catches when you hear the groan Bucky lets out as he gently rolls his hips, lost in the feeling of your body pressed to his, thrusting against you with breathy moans.

“Need you, need to feel you” He’s muttering against your cheek, dragging his mouth against yours, desperate and needy, tongue working its way between your lips, you can taste the wine on his mouth and your moan finally falls from your lips. Bucky’s hands grip your hips as he continues to buck into you, he breaks the kiss, unable to focus on anything but your heat seeping through his jeans, he throws his head back, a whine falling from him with one particularly hard thrust.

He tugs at the neckline of your dress, pulling your dress below your breasts he closes his hot mouth over your nipple, licking, and tugging gently with his teeth.

Each thrust has him pressed harder against you, the rough material dragging on your clit and you could cum like this, rutting against each other but he’s already made you cum twice and you desperately want watch him unravel as you fuck him.

“You still with me?” He hums in response, eyes closed and blissed out “You wanna fuck me?”

Bucky’s eyes flick open and his usual blue has been replaced with black “Yes, god yes, yes, please”

Guiding him flat on his back you lift yourself off his thighs, he lets out a disappointed sound before you bring your hand down to trace the outline of him over the fabric. He urges you on, tugging at the buckle of his belt and you swiftly push his hands away.

“Let me” You roll to his side, giving yourself more space to work the buckle and button open, pulling the zip down, you slip your hand inside and you can feel a damp spot on his pants before you quickly drag his jeans and boxers over his hips. His cock sways heavily between his legs, red and dripping. You try to mask the shock on your face because you really didn’t expect him to be so big, he’s long and thick, curved just so and you’ll know he’ll hit every spot perfectly.

“Oh Buck, such a pretty cock. So big, you’re going to fill me up so good” You reach out to grasp his length, giving it a slow stroke that draws the neediest whine from him.

“Fuck, I need you. Please, need you. Now, please” The hazy desperation has been replaced with heated desire as he pushes your dress up round your hips, tugging at the bodice “Get this off”

You guide his hands to the zip of your dress and he makes quick work, helping you pull the fabric off. Bucky sits up, dragging his shirt over his head before discarding it on the floor with the rest of his clothes.

He cups your jaw, capturing your mouth with fierce urgency while he moves you, pulling you back on him, your bare core this time meeting his aching cock. “F-uck baby”, you arch into him, tilting your hips to press your aching clit against him.

Raising yourself up, you slide your hand between your legs, nails ghosting over his tip and he shudders at the contact. His grip on your waist is gentle yet possessive and it tightens when you wrap your hand around his length and stroke once, twice, pulling a roughened groan from him.

Hovering with his tip just pressed against your cunt, you touch your fingers delicately to his face “Look at me.” Only once his eyes meet yours do you ease yourself down onto him, the stretch almost painful despite how wet you are. Bucky whines, his hold bruising your hips and his eyes rolling back and fluttering closed.

When you’re fully seated, the curve of his cock presses deliciously against that sweet spot deep inside, one that isn’t reached by your fingers or toys, and it sends a shudder through your body.

The sharp clench of your cunt is enough to snap Bucky from the daze he had momentarily been lost to

“Shit, please move” He bucks slightly, pushing himself even deeper and the ache is exquisite.

You begin to move, rolling your hips, lifting yourself and sinking back down. Your hands find Bucky’s chest, pressing him hard into the mattress, increasing your speed as you ride him.

“Yeah, just like that, fuck” Bucky’s chanting under his breath, letting you take what you need from him. Your shallow breaths are painful in your lungs, unable to pull in enough oxygen you can feel your head getting dizzy. A familiar heat coils in your belly, overwhelming and driving your need.

Noticing the falter in your hips and the catch in your breath Bucky takes over, thrusting from beneath you, driving into that spot over and over until you cry out, “Shit, oh fuck, yes”, thrashing waves surge beneath your skin, uncontrollable tremors rolling through your body as Bucky holds you steady, nails clawing at his chest, your cunt quivering around his cock.

He gives you just enough slack to rock your hips as your orgasm subsides, writhing against his thighs, breathing unsteady.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum” He’s moving you as he speaks, rolling you both, pushing you down onto the sheets in the middle of the bed “You look so fucking good.”

Your legs instinctively open as he crawls up the mattress towards you, hooking your legs over his hips, his cock rests heavily on your belly. He pauses, taking in the sight, thighs flush against your bum, cock reaching up to your belly button. “Can’t believe you can take all of it” he breathes.

You reach down to trace the length of him, fingers gently teasing the underside of the head

“C’mon Buck, fuck me” your tone is encouraging, maybe a bit teasing but he takes your instruction.

Dragging his tip down your slit, teasing the head against your entrance. It’s a tighter push after your orgasm and he watches you take every inch, eyes never leaving where his cock is splitting you open “Shit” He lets out an unsteady breath as he bottoms out.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to pick up the pace, grunting softly against your lips “Fuck. Need’t- Fuck, feels so good” He lifts your leg, wrapping your knee around his waist, burying his cock deeper. “That’s it” You hear him groan and you’re not able to stop the shiver that runs through your body.

The pace he sets is relentless, there’s not an inch of space between your bodies and the sounds of skin on skin and soft moans fill the room.

“So good, filling me so good Buck” The familiar heat is building in the pit of your stomach, your head can’t comprehend the approaching fourth orgasm but your body is racing towards ecstasy, already lost to it.

“You gonna cum?” Bucky pants against your cheek and you nod “yeah? Fuck, need you to cum, wanna feel it”

Bucky pulls up, giving you space to slip your hand between your bodies if you want to but you don’t feel the need to, his cock hitting just perfectly to throw you over the edge.

“Fuck yes, c’mon” Bucky’s whiney and needy, desperate to make you cum he doubles down, thrusting harder, chanting a soft string of “yes, yes, yes” as he feels the tell-tale clench of your release.

“Buc-Ah” You can't help the strangled cry you let out as you fall over the edge, vision blacking and body arching, hands clawing at the sheets beneath you.

Bucky sobs your name quietly as he buries himself inside you and you pull him closer with your legs. Blistering heat floods inside you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck ” Bucky pants in a whisper as his cock throbs.

You reach up to touch his face, pushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead, he presses his lips to yours, breathing heavily against your mouth. Letting your legs fall away from him, he hesitates slightly before slipping out of you.

Bucky moves to lay next to you, pulling the duvet from underneath your boneless body and covering you both with it. Your body feels heavy and you shouldn’t stay, you know you shouldn’t but the warmth of his body next to yours is nice, and when he reaches for you, pulling you close and mumbling sleepily “don’t go” you don’t want to leave, can’t bear the thought of the cold empty guest bed waiting for you upstairs.

So you stay, wrapped in the arms of a man half your age, promising yourself you’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊 - ♡.

𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #college bucky barnes #sons best friend bucky #older woman reader #subby bucky #christmas smut #bucky smut #college!bucky #bucky x you #love potion writes #love potions writing #han writes

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