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bunny-lily · 8 months ago

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Tether Me - Prologue

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.

It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.

So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?

How could you run from this? From them?

…Would you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 9.4k

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.

Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.

They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.

Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?

Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them.

You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.

You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.

You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.

Paper lanterns.

You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air.

You envied them.

They made you nauseous with longing.

They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.

They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia.

Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.

It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.

So, why?

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.

You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.

You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.

As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.

The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.

In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.

The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before.

You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse.

Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.

Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.

Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Run.

It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation.

Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?

The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it.

Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.

…It didn’t last.

Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.

Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.

That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.

Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.

New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively.

They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.

You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.

Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word.

His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.

A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.

He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.

When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.

“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.

Paper lantern.

“I want to ask you out properly.”

Tether.

His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.

Kite.

The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward.

You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.

You were not free.

You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.

You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.

You ran.

You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.

Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.

You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.

Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.

That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.

Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.

You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.

Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.

So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.

Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.

You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.

Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.

It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.

With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.

Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.

It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.

You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.

It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.

Less chance of being tied down.

With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.

You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded.

He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.

Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.

“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing.

“Yeah, could you take me here?”

He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”

You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”

The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”

I fucking hate cities.

“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you.

You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.

“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”

You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”

The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver.

He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.

It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.

“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”

He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.

So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.

“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”

“Chaos?” You raised a brow.

“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”

A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.

Except, there wasn’t any.

Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.

The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.

Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway.

Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.

Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.

Nothing could.

You were sure of it.

Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.

“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.

It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.

“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.

He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Are you sure?”

Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”

“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”

Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.

Your lungs deflated.

The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.

It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.

Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.

“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud.

With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.

Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?

There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.

Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.

Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.

Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.

At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went.

Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done.

You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.

You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.

Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.

Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.

She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.

The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living.

Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.

What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door.

After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.

Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.

You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.

Had nature always been this green before?

Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.

Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.

For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.

Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no. A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.

Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.

You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.

A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.

With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.

While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them.

Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.

The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.

Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing.

Doomed by the narrative once again.

Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.

It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.

The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.

In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:

This feels right.

It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.

Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?

Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.

Yet.

Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”

The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”

“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.

Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.

The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.

“Eat,” she insisted.

You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”

The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”

You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.

This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.

“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.

You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”

“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I moved here.”

Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”

Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”

The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”

If you had a nickel.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.

At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”

The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.

You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.

Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”

“You’re going to try to repair it?”

“Yeah. Keyword being try.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.

“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”

Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”

Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”

Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”

“Promise me, young lady.”

“I promise.”

She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”

“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?

“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”

Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?

“But– but that’s not–”

“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?

Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.

The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?

Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.

“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.

Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”

“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”

Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”

“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”

“You really don’t–”

She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”

Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”

“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”

And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.

You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you.

The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.

Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway

A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not.

Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.

All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.

It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.

It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.

The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close.

They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food.

Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.

The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?

Could fish feel depression?

Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.

While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.

You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.

About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.

Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.

A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.

Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.

Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.

Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.

And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction.

There was nothing.

Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.

Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.

Maybe that was your cue to leave.

You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.

You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.

You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.

Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.

(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)

Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.

It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.

So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.

It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.

You had it all figured out.

Didn't you?

banner by cafekitsune ♥

#Tether Me #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

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jealousjersey · 10 months ago

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౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆buzzed ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

꩜ boyfriend!dom!josh futturman uses a vibrator on you for the first time blurb

꩜ tags // josh futturman x reader, vibrator using, smut, 18+ fanfic, futureman fanfic, porn without plot

꩜ mentions // hitachi wand, sub!reader, toy usage, whimpering, moaning, twitching, quivering, whispering, pillow talk, dirty talk, praise, fingering, eating out

꩜ a/n // i love writing for futturman ugh and im gonna write a sub!josh futturman x dom!reader soon fr. and i know he’s a total bottom but let a girl dream pls and i know this is short forgive me

it’s 2:46am, your boyfriend josh has been sleeping all day but god he looks so hot with his messy hair and his mouth slightly open, you wish it was you who his mouth was on.

josh jolts awake, mumbling something about biotic wars? he keeps talking about that game. you always shrug it off. “you finally awake?” you say to him.

his sleep sweat always gets you, his musky scent seems like the best thing you’ve ever smelled. you always worried why you liked that so much, maybe it’s the pheromones or maybe you just need to fuck him.

“oh hey, yeah i’m awake” he rubs his eyes and stretches his left arm after a yawn. “but why are you awake? it’s late you should’ve been asleep hours ago” he teases you. you loved it when he did that but now wasn’t the time, you’re so turned on it’s borderline hurting. you need some release.

“need you. badly” you basically whimper, when did you start to sound so desperate? you don’t know, all that’s clouded in your mind is that new hitachi wand you bought. “get my vibrator out of the drawer please” you beg.

“oh so you’re needy for the wand, huh? not even me?” he teases you. “you’re the one who made me like this. you’re so hot” you tease back.

he gets the vibrator out the top drawer and holds it above your head. “think you can reach it?” he says as you almost jump for it.

“strip for me and maybe you can have it” he says. immediately you take off your panties and his eyes darken with lust as he stares between your legs.

his eyes meet your wet pussy, he’s drooling at the site of it. “god, you’re perfect.” he says as he plugs in the hitachi wand, putting it on the highest setting and meeting your clit.

the vibrations make you quiver. josh chuckles as he sees you squirm, moving the wand around to hear your little whimpers that keep getting louder.

“be quiet like a good girl if you want to cum” he mumbles as he enters his fingers inside you, the wand still on your clit. the site of your cunt leaking is enough to send him into a spiral

“god you look so perfect like this.” he says softly just enough for you to hear him. his fingers fidget inside of you making you whimper. “fuck, please let me cum- i’ve been good” you moan softly as the vibrations score through your sensitive clit.

“not yet baby, this amuses me.” he says as he smirks slightly, almost cooing you. he takes the vibrator off of your now puffy clit and he brings his mouth to it, now sucking on it as his fingers pump inside you, curling gently around your gspot. you moan as he softly bites your clit. it hurt but god it was good.

josh sits the vibrator on the bed still on, as he eats you out, his tongue licks a thick line along your pussy, his saliva mixing with your wetness making a perfect lube for his fingers to slip inside you. he wants to fuck you but this is your night.

you’re so filled with pleasure you’re seeing stars, so close and to release your hands are gripping his hair. “can i please cum now- i’ve been so good” you basically yell, now begging.

“cum for me. you’ve been good” he says to you as his mouth is on you, and at his permission you cum in his mouth, josh licks up all of your release. his head comes up from under you, his face glistening with your cum. god he looks so hot soaked in you.

#jersey writes #josh hutcherson #josh futturman #futureman #josh futterman smut #josh futterman fluff #josh futterman #futturman #mike shmidt #five nights at freddy's #fanfic #smut #mike schmidt x reader smut #jealousjersey #mike schimdt fanfic #mike schmidt headcanons #jhutch

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bamsara · 9 months ago

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A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

#sara shush

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freimeka · 1 year ago

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am i the only one who's about to explode by thinking of a bodyguard ghost??? like he's... extremely on another level please help me !! i actually hate this and might delete this pls forgive any mistakes ans typos it's 3am . i feel like i forgot some tws and tags but oh well idc

★ obv bodyguard!ghost + pwp + just unholy thoughts + descriptions of masturbating + very brief mention of idk just a heated argument + ghost is kinda voyeur here

You have no idea how the two of you ended up like this. You clearly remember that you were screaming at Ghost's face. The reason was something completely dumb...like, he probably insulted one of your friends and you just exploded. You've been feeling on the edge because of him for the last week now—you cannot even count the times that your hand, completely out of your control, has traveled down on your body once you were alone to touch yourself.

As you think of him.

That fucker.

Ghost can easily get under your skin without even trying, it's like a love-hate relationship. You've known him for many long years—he has always been right there, next to you whenever you turn your head around to see him. He's protected you, spoiled you maybe even more than your parents did. Well, there have also been countless times that he annoyed you so much that you just wanted to slap him across his face but you just let them pass. You're used to Ghost, and he's used to you.

You should be mad at him now, your body should be on fire just by how angry you're at him but... your hand keeps traveling down on your body. You get comfortable on your bed, letting your body meet with the soft mattress as your legs immediately spread apart as if on autopilot mode. One of your hands easily travels underneath your shirt to touch your perked nipples, your fingertips pinching them just to feel a bit more. Your other hand slips past your soaked panties, and you realize that you're embarrassingly wet—with every move of your fingers you can hear a slick sound that's faint, yet loud enough to echo in your empty room.

You throw your head back when your trembling fingers start to rub circles against your clit, gathering the wetness and spreading it all over to make it easier for you to move your fingers in circles. Your eyes are shut, and you feel yourself taking short and erratic breaths as your fingers keep rubbing circles. No matter how you do or what you do, the mere idea of being stretched by Ghost's cock just doesn't leave your mind. Your fingers don't feel thick enough, they don't reach the parts that you want them to reach—and that's getting frustrating. You're usually so careful about being quiet in order not to get caught, but the feeling is overwhelming; you think that you might cry. That's why a soft, yet a bit louder than ever whine falls from your lips. You don't think that it's dangerous because everyone except Ghost is outside, your parents work long hours and that's why Ghost has become a babysitter as well as a bodyguard—that's what he says, but you know that he's trying to annoy you.

Since you two have argued like fifteen minutes ago, and his mad and hoarse voice somehow made you wet, Ghost must be outside on the balcony. He's probably smoking.

Right?

You feel your bed being crushed down under someone else's weight, and you want to open your eyes but the scent is all too familiar. And you feel like you're about to explode from embarrassment. Ghost rests his hands on your bare thighs, his fingers grazing the soft skin with such gentleness that you struggle to hold back a whimper. It's a small touch— it's obvious that he's testing the waters first.

"You're making it hard to be around you," you hear him whispering, his voice is dangerously low. You finally decide to open your eyes, to see him without his damn mask and he's already looking up at you. However, he breaks the eye contact as soon as you look back at him—he's now looking at your thighs, his lips touch your inner thigh as he speaks. "But you're also making it hard not to be around you."

You can't believe he's admitting it.

"Please—Ghost, I—," you barely whisper, your voice is shaky as your fingertips burn to feel Ghost's soft hair. "I'm... I just," it's impossible for you to explain yourself, but then again you don't have to do it since everything's pretty clear. Ghost is breathing so heavily against the skin of your inner thigh, and he's not done—for fuck's sakez he's not even started yet. Ghost's hands skillfully reach down to your sides, and he drags you against him to make you feel just how much he wants you. You hear the sounds of fabric as your body is pulled down on the bed, you're almost at the edge of the bed now while Ghost is kneeling down in front of you. He doesn't speak for a while, and you feel yourself get even more stressed. It's obvious that he has no problems with what you've been doing, but damn it, say something.

"You're perfect," he hisses, he sounds almost out of breath as he whispers against your skin. You feel him pulling your panties up, letting the already soaked fabric cover your wet pussy again. "You're so perfect."

And that's probably all you need to hear, you're way too gone, too overwhelmed to care about the consequences. You can worry about them later, but you know that this is mutual, and he wants you as much as you want him. He kisses you, it's a gentle peck on the lips first. But then, he gets harder and harder, pushing you back against the bed and holding onto your hips tighter— and you realize that he's making you think about only how badly you want him inside you. The way his big, calloused hands are touching your bare thighs, the way his kisses are getting more and more intense... He's getting you to feel hot enough to make you melt in his presence.

"I was waiting for the fun part to come," he breathes out, "But you take damn too long."

There's a moment of silence.

"I can help you with that."

You make a sound like a whine, like a soft cry of pleasure—all of those anxious thoughts that say you've embarrassed yourself are gone in a minute. Your body aches, you can feel your heartbeat getting faster just by the thought of Ghost finally filling you up to the brim.

He leans in, his broad shoulders are enough to make you disappear under his body as he presses his lips against yours desperately. There's something almost feral in the way he kisses you, as if he's even more impatient than you are. As if he's been waiting for this to happen for a long time.

Ghost's breath grows more and more desperate as the two of you kiss; his tongue licking into your mouth as your teeth bite into his bottom lip, your bodies are pressed against each other as much as they can. The feeling of him rubbing circles against your clit through the fabric of your panties drives you crazy and you feel your breath being stolen from your lungs. You need to feel him, somehow; it doesn't matter if he pushes his fingers or decides that he can pound into you, you just need him. Not through the damn panties, you need to get rid of them.

He's kissing you fiercely now, his tongue tasting your lips and then sliding inside your mouth greedily. His hands are working on your trembling body, touching your pussy through the fabric; you feel like crying, he should take it off.

"This feels so good," Ghost says, his voice is deep and it feels like he's speaking in your head. "Doesn't it? Don't you think that I can do a better job of filling up that cunt?" Ghost asks, and you know that he's taunting you—but you can't stay under that now, can you?

"Take them off," you breathlessly whimper, it's something like both a beg and a demand—Ghost can take whatever suits him. "Please, just take them off."

Ghost lets out a groan, and it's clear that hearing what you just ask him to do is driving him insane. If he was desperate to kiss you before, he's desperate to make you bury your face into the damn pillow and pound into you until your pussy remembers the shape of his dick.

"You're so wet," he chuckles deep in his throat, staring down at you for a moment as if he's trying to gather himself before he gives you what you want.

"I should keep your panties with me, you know," he lets out a deep sigh as his fingers hook around your panties and pull them down slowly but surely. As he keeps talking to you, his voice lowers. "You're not the only desperate one here."

He finally pushes a finger in, letting your walls stretch slightly to the feeling of his thick index finger—but you still feel like that's not thick enough. You're greedy when it comes to him. Your moans turn into whines as he adds the second, and the thirs finger without any prior warning. He's moving his hand quite fast now, causing your legs to tremble as your fingers wrap around his thick biceps—all you can do is cry out, whines and whimpers and string of curses fall from your lips as Ghost toys with you. Your body tenses up when his hand starts to move a bit faster, his fingers curling inside you until he finds a spot that will have you begging for more. He succeeds, and it causes your walls to get tighter around his fingers.

"Do that again for me," he mumbles against your mouth, breathlessly. "Do that again for me when I'm inside you, baby."

"It would be such a disgrace if I never tried to make you feel good," he whispers. His breath is hot against your neck. "But look at you... what happened to that fierce girl? All I'm seeing is an obedient little girl, my sweet girl, who's already getting dumb without being filled up properly."

"Oh, I hate you," you reply, your voice is low and filled with desperation as you wet your lips with your tongue. The more Ghost makes you wait, the more you feel like crying.

"Of course, you do," he replies, his voice is full of sarcasm. "That's why you're dying to get your pussy filled by me, correct? You're lucky that you're not the only one who does this," as Ghost speaks, you feel him moving around—and soon after the sound of his belt coming undone is heard. He doesn't even bother to get rid of his clothes properly, he just pushes his trousers down before he pushes your shirt above just a bit to indicate that he wants you to take it off.

Who are you to say no?

Your trembling fingers grab the hem of your t-shirt and you take it off with one swift motion, letting the piece of clothing fall to the floor.

You're way beyond gone at this point, your mind is empty, so no words come out from your mouth. You feel Ghost pulling you closer to himself on the bed. He's resting his knees on the edge of the bed as leverage while holding you by your thighs and making you spread your legs as much as you can. He's always wanted to touch you, fill you up, and the way you're looking at him through your heavy-lidded eyes is making it even harder for him to resist you.

"You know," he murmurs, "I would imagine us all over the place— my room, the backseat of cars or a damn parking lot, some closet, bending you over any surface that I find as soon as we step back in the house." His voice is thick with lust, it's like he's ready to devour you, consume you until there's nothing left of you. "I imagined you in my lap, your legs open for me, and..."

Ghost doesn't finish his sentence and instead, he finally gives you what you've been craving all along. He's big and thick, and the moment you feel the tip of his cock pushing inside you let out a soft yelp—Ghost is slow until he's fully in you, and just as you think that he'll give you some time to adjust to his size, he mercilessly thrusting. Sharp and powerful, almost abusing your cunt as his big hands spread your pussy even more just for his hungry gaze.

"I always felt like I was going to explode." You can hear him grunting, letting out low and deep sounds of pleasure as he mercilessly fucks into you. Your body moves up and down on the bed, putting on a show for Ghost that'll just drive him insane with how you look. He leans in, and his tongue licks hot stripes all over your chest before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue flicks around it, his teeth gently and teasingly bite into it just to see your reaction. Every time you're slightly overwhelmed and sensitive, your walls clamp around his cock, making Ghost let out a string of curses as his grip on you tightens more and more.

He wraps his arms around your waist, gently rolling over to let you lie on top of him—his body presses into the mattress. You find yourself sitting on top of his body, his arms wrapped around you and his face in between your breasts. "Ride me," he whispers. "I wanna come inside you like this," and he's so, so cruel—how can he talk to you like that when he knows you're so, so, so sensitive. You whine, your arms tightly wrap around his neck as you start to do as you're told; but you're so close, so, so, so close that your movements become sloppier and messier.

"Can't," you gulp. "I can't, Ghost—," your words are breathless and low, your vision is blurry as you come all over his cock without even having the chance of letting him know. But that's Ghost, and Ghost knows you very well. He knows you better than you know yourself. "Yes, sweetheart," he whispers against your chest. "Go ahead, show me how you do it. I promise I'll make you feel even better than this."

#cod mw smut #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost riley #simon riley smut #ghost riley smut

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silence-ofthe-llamas · 17 days ago

Text

More stuff inspired by the mecha AU but unfortunately not following the lore pls forgive (I don't know if they want to be tagged as it's not canon compliant as it were, but original concept by @/keferon!)

The awaited Jazz/Prowl chapter I promised and then promptly forgot to post! Warning for major character death (mentioned/off-screen). Sorry, Jazz...

Petteri sighed, long deep and heavy, as he walked down the catwalk to the mech.

Apparently, not long after he’d been stationed on the base, the mech had taken itself offline. The technicians had taken a look at it. They’d flown in specialists from China, from the US, even Iceland. None of them could explain what was wrong with it. It just… didn’t want to wake up any more. The AI had decided it had had enough.

They’d slated it for destruction. Petteri was to take one last inspection, one last look, to give it one more go, before they took it for scrap parts, cannibalised it to keep their other mechs going. He didn’t know why they sent him. He’d never done an inspection like this before – he was as out of his depth as a fish out of water. But the higher ups had pushed him forwards, Swindle was eager to claw his money back on what he’d pissed down the drain on this mech, as he’d so eloquently put it, and so here he was. An untrained eye glancing over a state of the art machine as if he knew a damn thing about it.

He felt so drawn to the mech, like he had a sense of duty towards them - maybe it was the fact that his arrival seemed to have triggered the change? That they had a strange familiarity about them? He didn’t know.

He twisted his ring on his finger, feeling it run across his skin.

The old him would have been thrilled to step inside of the mecha, the pinnacle of the programme he was the poster child for. The old port in the back of his head ached. Be careful if you interface, the technician had warned him, gulping his too hot coffee that steamed up his glasses. Your old gear isn’t up for the job. If you’re plugged in for too long, it will fry you nice and crispy.

But now, he was decrepit and grouchy and a warning against that programme. It will take everything from you. You will gain nothing back.

“Let’s get this over with.” Petteri sighed. Reaching the console, he paused for a moment to look at the mech. A dim blue visor, a black helm. The opening hatch was at its chest, an expanse of white with blue stripes. Black shoulders were either side, blades going up the arms. All sharp edges and smooth, sleek design. It was a damn shame to lose any of it.

With a lump in his throat, Petteri adjusted his tie and looked for the button that opened the hatch.

The chest cracked whilst his hands were still firmly on the clipboard. He froze as the entrance to the cockpit revealed itself, the floor sliding out to cover the gap between catwalk and mech. The lights twinkled invitingly, and Petteri looked around.

Nobody. Just him. It was the night shift - they tended to be a bit quieter, and there was no reason for anyone to be out in the hangar except for him. There were no alarms. The pilots were all sleeping – either recovering from the days fight (no casualties this time, thank goodness) or preparing for the next one.

Cautiously, he approached. Maybe his proximity sensors were still active, and detecting a pilot had automatically sent the command to open. His equipment may have been old and unmaintained, but it was still usable. It still responded when it received a ping. It made complete and total sense that the mech would be able to receive the message from the antiquated technology.

Right?

The cockpit was warm. He could feel the rumbling of online systems beneath his feet, and he ran his hand over the back of the chair.Well, the mech wasn’t exactly offline. But they weren’t online either. Just… stuck. Waiting for something. In stasis until the correct launch code had been received.

The cockpit closed near silently - it was only the click of the bolt sliding into place that alerted him that he was now locked inside of it. Tutting and starting to think that this was now some kind of joke that was going to be going too far, Petteri turned on his heel and clipped towards the console, beginning to type in the code to open them-

The room was suddenly bathed in blue light, and the sound system chimed. Petteri looked up at the screen.

[<3 Prowler <3]

The corner of his lips tugged down and his heart twisted painfully in his chest.

The joke had been mildly annoying a minute ago. Now it was downright cruel.

“That is NOT funny.” Petteri scowled, glaring at the cameras. “Stop that immediately. Let me out. Now.”

The door didn’t move. The message continued to be displayed on the screen.

Petteri felt a crack.

There was only one person - one person in the whole entire world, the universe, who ever called him Prowler. The ring was the only thing he had left of them, a heavy weight that choked him. To everyone else, he was Prowl. His callsign. Simple, easy, monosyllabic. Quick off the tongue and quick in the field.

But to Jasper? His Jazz? Prowler. Only he was allowed to call him that. It was private, something between them and them alone, something they didn’t have to share.

And it was taunting him on the screen.

[I MISSED YOU SO MUCH]

Prowl didn’t reply. His vision was going red, he could feel heat prickle up his spine and flow down into his hands clenching them into fists. The clipboard rattled and creaked beneath his fingers and he ground his teeth.

Emergency escape it was, then. He stalked to the button, flicking off the protective cover and making to press it when the message on the screen changed again. He glanced up at it more out of habit more than sense, and paused.

[CAN WE TALK? PLEASE? I’VE WAITED FOR SO LONG]

He loudly swore and threw the clipboard at the floor. Damn it all, damn his weak and pathetic self for falling for this. He’d felt a brief moment of accepting he would be engaging with whatever fucked up ideas his tormentors had cooked up for him, and the crack had widened.

Jazz would have taken the bait. He’d have been curious enough to do it.

He wasn’t Jazz. He never would be. But fuck if he wished Jazz had been the one who had made it instead of him - he’d navigate whatever was left with so much more grace than he had.

So he took a moment to furiously pace and calm himself enough to throw himself into the chair, arms folded crossly, and tapping his foot.

“Well? What else have you got to hurt me with?”

[I’M SORRY]

[I WANTED TO SEE YOU SO BADLY]

[I DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU]

Prowl frowned at the screen.

“… Who are you?”

[DESIGNATION: JAZZ]

It was like a lance through his chest, and he winced. Prowl had avoided looking at or thinking of the mecha’s name to keep himself from feeling the agony of it. He held the ring a little tighter, pushing it up against his finger.

He knew Jazz’s heartbeat - how could he ever forget it? It was tattooed onto his heart. Its waves were engraved into his wedding ring, he stared at the imprints of it on his finger on the rare moments he removed it. The ring as as much a part of him as his limbs were, and in turn so was the sound of Jazz’s heart.

So, pray tell, why could he hear it in the mecha?

“Who are you really? My… partner, is dead.” He was gripping the arm of the chair tightly. He slowly released one hand, each finger plucking off from the arm rest, and pressed it to his mouth. The ring glinted - a thick band of blue encased in shiny silver.

He felt the mech jolt.

[YOU’RE STILL WEARING IT?]

Prowl glanced down at the ring, watching how it caught the light.

“Every day.”

[MY NAME IS JASPER KORHONEN. WE WERE OFFICIALLY MARRIED ON THE 23RD OF APRIL BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT TO WAIT ANY LONGER, BUT WE HAD OUR WEDDING ON THE 27TH OF AUGUST AND THAT IS THE DATE THAT EVERYONE THINKS WE WERE MARRIED ON]

The number of people on the Earth who knew that were slim. Prowl knew those who did – many of them were now dead. The kind old lady at the council. Jazz’s brother. Jazz himself. The only two people alive on the planet who knew the real date were himself and Ironhide – and Ironhide only knew because he was his witness.

And Ironhide wasn’t the type to do this kind of thing.

“Oh, my god.” Prowls voice shook, and he tried to take a calming breath. “I don’t want to believe it. Is it really you?”

[IN THE FLESH. WELL. MESH? ARMOUR?]

“Jazz, please be serious, I am on the edge of another fucking breakdown.” Prowl held his face in his hands, planting his elbows onto his knees as he curled in on himself. His eyes burned and his vision blurred. He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. No, he’d spent so long in stupid fucking therapy sessions that didn’t do anything to scrub the sound of every bone in the love of his life’s body shattering out of his head, so much time trying medications that made him feel like he really were dead and pointless meditation tasks and behaviour therapy and-

He sobbed. He sobbed, and he fought to breath against the flood that coursed through him.

And Jazz waited patiently. He waited so very patiently for him, he dimmed the lights to make it softer for him, and he felt the air warm like a hug.

“What happened to you?” He finally asked, his voice weak and raspy, his eyes sore and swollen. “You’re meant to be AI’s – why…”

[SHOCKWAVE WANTED TO SEE IF IT WORKED] Jazz replied. [THE AI’S ARE LIMITED. THEY DON’T HAVE THE REAL LIFE EXPERIENCE THAT WE DO, THE RANGE OR ABILITY TO TAKE ON CHALLENGES OUTSIDE OF WHAT WE KNOW]

“So he tested on you?” Prowl frowned.

[I WAS DYING, THERE WAS NOTHING TO LOSE]

He knew he was. He remembered. He could still hear it, still feel it, if he let himself slip. The sound of the priests reading him his last rights on the battlefield whilst he was trapped, unable to get to him, was a significant cause of trauma - he could feel himself choke on blood that wasn’t there, feel broken bones he didn’t have, struggled for breath that he was free to take-

[IT’S OKAY, PROWLER - BREATHE WITH ME]

Prowl waved him off. He felt sick.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m.” He pressed his hand to his mouth, chewing on his index finger. “The brain deteriorates quite rapidly post mortem.” He got up to pace again. He felt the cameras in the cockpit train on him, watching him as he slowly walked up and down the short length of it. “He’d have to have been right there in situ with you…”

[I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, I WAS QUITE PREOCCUPIED WITH THE WHOLE DYING HORRIBLY THING]

Prowl had thought about that day a lot. It had haunted him, a constant spectre on the edge of his awareness. And so, he’d spent a lot of time mulling over the details. There had been a malfunction. Something had gone… wrong. Very, very wrong. For starters, they’d been separated. The old suits – the original ones that he was a pilot of – worked best in pairs. They augmented each other, two halves of one whole. Where one went, the other was to follow. Instead of being giant hulking suits of armour, they were much more compact. To be crude, they’d often referred to them as their Iron Man suits. Simply complex layers of metal that sat against their skin, making them stronger, faster, harder to hurt. It was perfect for what they later learned were the infants.

On the day the first juvenile Quintesson arrived, they learned two things. One, that their suits were absolutely not enough, and two, they’d need to get much, much bigger.

But Jazz was the only one to get that hurt. There were some, like Prowl, who had walked away with minimal injuries. A broken bone, bruises, fractures, the like. And others, with slightly more traumatic ones. Amputations. Burns. Multiple broken bones.

Jazz was the only one who was condemned.

“They always planned to harvest you.” Prowl slowly said in shock. He looked up at the screens as a proxy for Jazz’s face. “They were waiting for their opportunity. You don’t think…?”

[WITHOUT A SINGLE DOUBT, THEY CAUSED MY DEATH. THOSE SUITS DIDN’T JUST BREAK LIKE THAT]

Reading the confirmation on the screen made him feel dizzy. What did they do? Where did they go with that information? They must all know. The scum goes straight to the top of the pot. Ultra Magnus? Was he involved? Would he even listen? What about their investors? Sentinel might be interested to hear that they were harvesting soldiers for their so-called-AI’s, but there was only so much influence he had with men like Zeta and Galvatron on the board...

[PROWLER?]

“Yes, dear?” Prowl felt the corner of his lip tug up in a smile. Damn, it felt good to be able to say that to him again.

[AT THE RISK OF SOUNDING LIKE AN IDIOT, CAN YOU INTERFACE WITH ME? I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG, I DON’T WANT OUR ONLY CONVERSATION TO BE THIS. I WANT TO SEE WHAT YOU’VE BEEN UP TO]

He felt his hands drop to his sides. Two halves of him fought viciously.

His duty was to report this. His duty was to do something about this. The pilots deserved as much – the other potential victims deserved as much. Jazz deserved so much more than to be buried within metal casing, nothing more than a puppet to the people who put him there.

But fuck, he missed him. He missed him so, so much. Everything had been so cold and empty since he’d left, and he’d felt the warmth of his sun. It had begun to melt the ice that had formed around him…

He sat in the seat and buckled himself in. The helmet lowered into his waiting hands, and he put it on before activating the interfacing sequence.

Prowl expected the sharp sting. There always was one, no matter how many times you connected with someone. The initial rejection of two separate nervous systems, not recognising the other and primed to attack, followed by the gentle handshake between neural nets.

He still jumped. He felt Jazz chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah…” He muttered. He could feel a warm, familiar presence wrapping firmly around his own, and his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned his head backwards to bask in the feeling of it.

“Don’t say anything about you knowing about me. Please.” Prowl felt phantom hands cradling his cheeks, a forehead pressed against his own. “The last pilot I had – he went missing not long after he figured it out. I’m an anomaly, Prowler – can I trust you to keep your head down? Just this once?”

He sighed. He’d always been so weak to him.

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Prowl could faintly see him with his eyes closed. If he focused on him, he vanished, faded away. He’d have to settle for the blurry image that felt like the sun.

“Now… tell me everything.” Jazz was grinning. He knew that much. And Prowl couldn’t help but grin back.

Two hours later, Prowl staggered out onto the catwalk, stumbling into the console. He held onto it for balance, digging the meat of his palm into his left orbital as he breathed in through his teeth. His previously pristine white shirt was spattered with red, his nosebleed being cast down from his breath. He counted back down from ten until the world stopped spinning again, and he found that he was not alone.

Swindle. He looked like a baby who had their lolly pop stolen. Prowl would have smirked if he had the energy to – he had been walking around with dollar signs in his eyes all day thinking of how much he could sell Jazz for. And behind him, Ironhide.

“’Hide.” Prowl forced himself to stand up straighter, wiping his nose on his sleeve. It bloomed red. “Get that mech back online and get me back on that programme right now.” He pointed at the back of his neck, where his implant was set, cradling the base of his skull, the skin around it red hot and inflamed. “And get me that upgrade. The mech responds to me.”

“B-but-!” Swindle began to protest.

“What did you do in there?” Ironhide demanded, reaching forwards to catch Prowl as he stumbled again. “You’re bleeding – you were in there for hours. You didn’t interface, did you?”

“I did.” He looked up at him with a wide grin that hadn’t been on his face since Jazz had taken his last name. “It felt just like the old days.”

Swindle gave him a strange look that Ironhide missed, but Prowl could have spotted from a mile away now that he knew to look for it. He returned it with narrowed eyes. He knew. Prowl knew.

I know what you did to my husband, you rotten bastard.

And it would be a cold day in hell before he even began to forgive any of them for it.

#jazzprowl #tf mecha universe #llama writes

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fairy-writes · 6 months ago

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SO MANY KISSES, SO LITTLE TIME

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Trigun Stampede

Pairing(s): Nicholas D. Wolfwood x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, “Sweetheart” as a nickname, Types of Kisses

Notes: I’m still very new to the Trigun Stampede fandom. Seriously, I finished the anime two days ago. So please forgive me if I get anything wrong! (I’ve also only seen Stampede, so don’t come for me pls)

__________________________________________________________________________

Kissing Nicholas D. Wolfwood was hesitant.

He kissed you like he was scared you’d disappear. Like you were nothing but a mirage he couldn’t touch with his fingers. Almost as if he expected you to be a ghost and not a real person before him.

His lips are chapped, and he tastes like the cigarette and booze he had just had. But you can’t bring yourself to care all that much.

Because your first kiss with Nicholas D. Wolfwood is hesitant, yet as the kiss goes on, he gets bolder and more confident. But he still handles you with the delicacy of someone who was oh so scared.

You pull away from him gently, playing with the baby hairs on the back of his neck as you lean your forehead on his,

“That was a long time coming.” You tease, and he just huffs, pinching your side and making you squeal slightly.

“Shaddup. I wanted to do it right.” He grumbles but leans back in to peck your lips once more.

Kissing Nicholas D. Wolfwood was tender.

It’s late at night, and Vash is snoring lightly in his sleeping bag just a few feet from you. Roberto and Meryl are asleep in the van, leaving you and Nicholas awake to keep watch.

After all, you never know when bandits could strike.

You toss a stray stick into the dying fire and look up at the stars. You can hear Nicholas lighting up a cigarette next to you, but you don’t say anything. You’ve chastised him enough about his smoking habits, and you know for a fact that he doesn’t care enough about his health to really do anything about it.

Eventually, you lean your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t move at first. He never does. But slowly, as if reassuring himself that this is truly okay, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you through the sand until you’re flush against his side. You hum when he asks if this is okay. He’s always asking if this is okay, even though he knows your answer by now.

“‘Course it is. You know you don’t have to ask Nick.” You whisper into the night and hear him chuckle under his breath. He doesn’t respond. Not verbally, at least.

Instead, he tilts your chin to face him and presses a kiss to your mouth. It lasts no more than a few seconds. You reach up with one hand to cradle his jawline, feeling his stubble scratch your fingertips and bring him back to your lips the moment he pulls away. He laughs,

“Can’t get enough of me, can ya, sweetheart?” He teases, and you grin, nudging his nose with your own.

“Never.”

Kissing Nicholas D. Wolfwood was quick.

Gunshots rang out around you, and you ducked as one whizzed over your head. You could hear Vash trying to talk down the bandits trying to claim the bounty on his head.

It wasn’t helping much.

You unholster your pistol and check the magazine. Fully loaded like it had been a few minutes ago. Meryl and Roberto cower behind you, and you load a bullet into the chamber of your gun. Your trigger finger doesn’t touch said trigger just yet.

Nicholas slides around the corner and bumps into you, hauling his cross behind him as one of the bandits throws a freaking grenade.

“What a shit show!” He snarls, and you bark out a laugh,

“Any chance we can leave Vash behind?” You say, not meaning it because Vash is a good person and an even better friend. He always had your back, just as you vowed to always have his.

Nicholas scoffs,

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’d love to if it meant getting these bastards off my ass.” He says, peeking around the corner of your little hidey-hole before jerking backward to avoid getting hit with shrapnel from another grenade.

Just as Nicholas makes to run back out, you snag ahold of the collar of his shirt and haul him down to press a bruising, quick kiss to his lips. He looks half-dazed with surprise but recovers in milliseconds.

“Be safe out there.” You plead, and he grins that suave grin that has your heart stuttering in your chest,

“Always.”

Kissing Nicholas D. Wolfwood was slow.

You sit up against pillows, nursing a bullet injury to your shoulder, some minor scrapes and bruises, and a fractured ankle to top it all off. The town you were in was small, with only a few hundred residents and the only medical clinic for miles. You had to shell out your last few double dollars just to pay to be treated.

Nicholas sits beside you, cleaning his Punisher while you doze. He had volunteered to stay behind to watch over you while Vash went into hiding until you were healed. Meryl and Roberto holed up in the ramshackle inn down the road.

“How ‘re you feelin’?” Nicholas asked, and you snapped awake. The painkillers you were given thankfully muted the pain to a dull throb, so you were able to adjust your pillows without any issues.

“As good as I can be, I suppose.” You mumble, and he scoffs,

“Needle noggin is gonna get you killed one of these days.” You shrug your good shoulder,

“I’ll live. I got you to protect me, right?” You say goodnaturedly and smile when his lips twitch up just the slightest bit.

It’s silent for a beat. Then two.

“Y’know… There’s something that might make me feel better.” You muse, and he looks at you, eyebrow raised, as he sets aside his Punisher up against the wall.

“And what’s that?” He replies. You look up at the ceiling, tapping your lips with a finger before looking at your lover with a sweet smile,

“A kiss.”

Nicholas stares at you for a second before hanging his head with a shake and a chuckle. But he doesn’t say no.

You knew that kisses were the one way to get him out of his slump. And you also knew that kisses were the one thing he never said no to.

So, he scoots off his chair and onto your bedside, where he leans in and kisses you slowly. You taste the barest hint of the medical serum he had used to heal himself after the gunfight and the cigarette he had had before stepping inside the hospital. You inhale through your nose and take in his scent of sand and the earthy smell that seemed to cling to him no matter where he went.

Nicholas pulls away after the kiss and flicks your forehead,

“Get some sleep, sweetheart. You’re going to need it if you’re gonna get better.” He whispers, and you roll your eyes.

“Only if you sleep, too.” You say and tug him down until he’s lying with you on the cot. It’s small and, therefore, awkward, but you’ve slept in worse places.

The only thing that matters is that Nicholas is there with you.

#nicholas d wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #trigun stampede x reader #trigun x reader #fairy writes

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withonly-sweetheart · 3 months ago

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starry eyed singer - bad ending...

a/n: major character death, possessive as hell, no name technically but if you read the original then you'll know, siren!au, ddni ig

@sirenhub <- idfk why i keep tagging u, pls ignore this i just want to know who inspired me where and u were my inspiration for this!! pls dismiss my fangirl ramblings...

wc: 1k

The ocean is trying to draw you in again, rhythmic waves pooling at your feet, urging you to come sleep in its embrace, take an everlasting nap to the lullaby of the water. But you’re not so easily fooled. You remember all you’ve lost, all you’ve regained, and how you’ve been forced to let everything go.

Not for your gain, but for theirs. You suppose scientific curiosity was not what you were chasing this entire time. Your resignation letters were turned in promptly, along with an anonymous report to the people you knew you could trust to shut down what is undoubtedly an illegal operation.

Will Luis be caught in the crossfire? You’re sure of it, and although you’ll never stop caring for the man you first loved, only shreds of compassion remind, and even those shreds are not enough to bail him out.

You are far more concerned for the experiment, hope that he survives. If there’s anything you’ve learned during your time at the laboratory, it’s that no matter what branch of government, no one is merciful to anything different.

So you call upon all the gods watching, if there are any, and pray to them for forgiveness. Plead to them for mercy, and spin the lid off the vase that you’ve seen so many times, staring at it absentmindedly while studying, unable to understand a concept without your mother to explain it.

But like with all things and people, you’ve learned to live without her. And you’ve kept her spirit with you for far too long, haunting you in dreams, dreams she shouts your name in, screaming for peace.

You break those shackles with a gentle toss, keeping the vase cradled in your arms as the ashes pour out into the water. Taking a step back to avoid any sticking with you, you dig your feet back into the dry sand, watching the dark particles disappear into the clear water.

You want her back immediately.

It only takes a hasty call to your neighbor before you gain not only the location of the boat keys, but the permission to use it, however vague. It isn’t long before you’re skimming the waves, purpose long lost, because you hear a voice.

You don’t know whose it is, you can’t remember. It itches the deepest corner of your mind, blowing the dust off a chest locked away in the darkest crevice of your thoughts, kept there for a reason and taken out for another.

And the chest is attached to you with a rope bound to your wrist, so when it’s thrown overboard, you can’t stop the lurch of your body. You never learned to swim, but you paddle around enough, the boat escaping into the horizon behind you, but you’re not too concerned.

That voice… it’s calling to you. From the bottom of the ocean, or the rocks that must’ve washed up from the shore, dotting the previously clear water, your feet struggling to find a purchase it’ll never find.

You sputter, coughing salt from your throat, burning everywhere as it comes back up, but you blink away the sting and focus on the voice. How is it behind…

You don’t get a chance to whirl around to confront the voice, the one that managed to make you forget about your mom, jump off a boat and lose your mind, crazy over it in a matter of seconds.

You’re drunk on a feeling that escapes as soon as a finger snakes around your ankle, and the voice is gone suddenly, just as you’re pulled under the waves. Thrashing, trying to reach for the sunlight that you had so nonchalantly dismissed just a moment ago, aching for the air to be circling in your lungs again.

But only liquid seeps into your weak lungs, collapsing into your chest, tumbling down, down down, to the depths of the sea. Where no one will ever find you.

“Shh, shh,” he coos into your ear, cradling your still form, much like a child who never got to see the world. He supposes, in that way, it is true; how could you witness any of the wonders of the sea cooped in that little room?

He’s done you a favor, and it’s a shame you’re not still conscious, otherwise he would have forced a thank you from those pretty lips of yours, hear them shape the vowels he’s seen you repeat multiple times to other colleagues.

It always irked him when he watched you from his little corner, where he knew your eyesight couldn’t reach, and that brown haired charlatan would lean on your desk. It always pleased him when you shooed him away in the next minute, to see the disappointment on the man’s face.

It fed into his jealousy, so only you’re to blame for this. If only he would have warned you… but this way, he keeps the maiden in his bed, and no one can question the prince of the ocean. He can always lie his way out of anything, anyway.

“It’s better this way,” he says, to keep the guilt from overthrowing his conscience. Who knows which monster will get its claws on you first? “Now you’ll always be with me, the pearl of my ocean, all mine, for no one else. Such a shame it had to end like this, but you’ll be with me forever, hm? My sweet little human?”

He looks down into your lifeless, glassy eyes, prying them apart with his claws, careful not to poke you. Through the thin sheets connecting his fingers, the webs that allowed him to drag you down to the sand at the bottom of the ocean, he watches your mouth loll open, and it's oddly striking to him.

No use in remembering what’ll never be again. The sunlight filters in through the shallow waters, hitting your eyes at the perfect angle. He gazes down at you, at your sparkling irises, and grins.

“My starry eyed singer.”

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil remake #re4 #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy reader insert #resident evil reader insert #siren!leon au

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pedropascallme · 1 year ago

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HIII ok i adored ur Jim fic i love him SOO BADDDD WAHHH !!!! i was wondering if i could request a Jim smut of some kind??? i’m a trans man so i would love an afab reader w gender neutral/masc pronouns but of course only whatever ur comfy w:) and if u don’t wanna do that anything else jim related pls i love him SOOOO BADDD!!!! okay sorry for the huge block of text ily and ur work is god tier bro.

The New Normal

Pairing: Jim x gn!afab!Reader

Summary: "You felt the sudden urge to kiss him, to grab him and pull him close to you, tell him to join you in the shower. "

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral (m & f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, praise kink, kinda almost soft!dom Jim? Reader is AFAB but no use of gendered pronouns, uhhh brief allusion to 9/11 blink and you'll miss it, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Max NEVER apologize for asking for Jim smut I am ALWAYS looking for a reason to write Jim smut. Also forgive the cross tagging but the only way I will ever reach other Cillian sluts is if I use the Thomas Shelby tag.

America was different than you’d expected it to be.

In the shows and movies, there wasn’t much diversity; either you were on a farm, or you were in the big city. The speech patterns were always overdramatized, too, and when you first reached the McGuire base in New Jersey, you were a bit disappointed when nobody shouted that “they were walkin’ he-ya!” Even more disappointed when you reached Brooklyn and were told that the accent was of a dying variety.

But in the grand scheme of things, it was so…normal. It was England before the outbreak, but with smaller busses and slower trains. You didn’t really know how to feel about it, about how the rest of the world carried on so unconcerned while the island you grew up in fell to pieces. In a way, relieved, but a small part of you felt almost offended that nobody was holding constant vigils.

What offended you more, though, was the realization that the process of being granted asylum was not something that happened quickly. While you were appreciative to Hannah’s distant cousins who had agreed to sponsor you while you awaited the business to be over—which could take years, you’d learned—you were nauseated that you still had to prove yourself in order to be allowed to stay. The lawyers, doctors, soldiers, and judges you’d met with explained that the process would go smoothly, that it was something that had to be done, not due to the nature of the thing you were escaping, but due to those who might abuse any leniency the country showed.

The world really hadn’t changed at all.

~~~

“Finished already?” You hummed at Jim when he walked through the door. Hannah’s family had taken you all shopping when you first arrived—a relief, really, to be able to change out of the fatigues the air force had given you—and Jim, despite his usual attire being casual, at best, looked so…handsome, now, with his skin not caked in blood, or dirt, or sweat. His hair was growing back in and he was wearing jeans that actually fit him. His shirt read “I<3NY” and even though you told him it looked ridiculous when he had first picked it up, you couldn’t deny that it hugged his arms in the right places.

“Not much to be done. You stitched me up so well.” He smiled at you, crossing the apartment to join you on the couch. “Doctor said he’d like to meet you.”

“I’ve met too many people this month.” You curled your legs up under you and stretched your arms over your head. “Never thought I’d say it, but I miss the apocalypse.” You leaned your head back.

Jim exhaled through his nose, amused, leaning himself back on the couch to face you. “No, you don’t.”

“I don’t,” You agreed, “It’s just…”

“Too much, too soon.”

“I guess.” You stared at each other for a while, not moving, not speaking. “I wish I could fast forward.” Jim tilted his head into the cushion he was leaning on, prompting you to continue. “I want to be used to it by now. Wanna be able to walk down the street and see a missing poster and still have hope.” You shuddered when you remembered the posters plastered on the train station walls, how familiar one disaster could feel when compared to another. “I want to feel normal. Everything here is so normal. Why am I not normal yet?” You didn’t have the energy to continue pouring over your emotions, perfectly fine with leaving it on that note.

“You’re not normal.” Jim leaned forward. “Neither am I. Neither is Hannah—s’got nothing to do with—” He waved around the two of you, implying the ordeal you’d lived through. You nodded in agreement. “And we’ll never be their kind of normal. Might just be ‘cause we’re English. Heard they had a war with us here, way back.” Jim deadpanned, and you smiled at him.

“I think I just need a shower.” You sighed, still looking at him. You felt the sudden urge to kiss him, to grab him and pull him close to you, tell him to join you in the shower. You felt your skin flush at the thought. You hadn’t been able to do much of anything but go to different meetings since you got here. One after another, it had made it difficult to find time for yourself, let alone time for you and Jim. Stolen kisses here and there, cuddles under the sheets of your bed, calling out “I love you” before the door closed behind you—there had been no time to enjoy each other.

Not to mention, you lived in a rented apartment with thin walls, and Hannah’s room was next to yours.

You hesitated to get up, and Jim sensed your delay. He brought a hand up to your hair, petting you.

“Hannah’s gone for the night. Sleepover.” You muttered, trying to be sly instead of asking for anything outright. Jim cocked a brow in jest.

“Just us, then?”

“Just us.” You confirmed. Tension formed between the two of you, and you swallowed.

“We can—can I join you in the shower?” His words were rushed, and he looked down when he spoke, only looking back up at you to gage your reaction once the question was complete. “You can say n—”

“Yes.” You felt breathless.

~~~

It was almost laughable, the two of you getting undressed together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, a shared bedroom holds plenty of space for two people to dress and undress in front of each other, but the expectation made all the difference. Jim’s “I<3NY” shirt was now discarded on the floor, his jeans unbuttoned as he helped you out of your own outfit. Your mouth fell open slightly when he peeled your shirt off of you, the feeling of his hands leaving a warm trail over your sides and a wet feeling between your legs. You reached for the waistband of his jeans, looping your fingers over the denim and into the boxers he wore underneath and beginning to pull down. He laughed quietly as he watched you struggle to move them down his waist.

“Don’t have to do all the work.” He placed his hands over yours and helped you remove his clothes. In turn, he found the button of your jeans and quickly undid them, letting you pull down the tight material and exposing yourself to him. All that remained were your panties, and Jim let out a low whistle when he reached out to brush the lace with his knuckles. “Pretty baby.”

You pushed against his chest lightly. “Shower.” You reminded him, but at this point it didn’t really matter to you. You whined slightly when his hand fell lower over your sex, nearly cupping you.

“Got all night.” He pulled down the remaining fabric, leaving you completely naked for him. And that’s how you felt—naked. Almost scared, as if now that your underwear was off and you were stripped completely, he would reconsider and not want this anymore—not want you anymore. You realized how stupid that sounded when Jim stood up at eye-level, grinning at you. You looked at him sheepishly as you stepped out of the panties pooled at your feet and toward him. You reached out to trace what remained of the wound on his abdomen, letting your fingers kiss the spots you hoped to eventually place your mouth on.

Suddenly you were in his arms, swooped up bridal style as he walked you into the bathroom. You heard yourself laugh nervously, and you buried your face into his neck. Feeling bold, you licked a stripe up to his pulse point, and he shuddered.

“Don’t wanna drop you.” He protested your action, but he lifted his head slightly to allow you better access. You did it again, letting your tongue linger and drift to his earlobe, nipping at it, feeling more and more comfortable with each step Jim took. He sighed dreamily, then placed you down on your feet next to the tub. He turned the handle, pulling the curtain back and taking your hand to guide you under the water. You all but pulled him in after you, and though he stumbled at first, he found his footing right in front of you. You watched the way the water seemed the frame his face; droplets running down his cheekbones and off of his chin. You kissed him, letting the water fall over your face, tasting it when you opened your mouth to welcome his tongue. You sighed into his mouth, a perfect combination of his taste and that of the water settling on your taste buds, and it went straight to your core. He leaned away from you, wrapping an arm around your waist and examining how the water matched the curve of your breasts. He kissed your chest, sucking on the skin just enough to make faint spots appear. You combed your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes.

“Normally,” He licked over what would soon become a dark purple spot, “I use the shower to wash up—reflect, sometimes.” He kissed his way up your chest and neck before straightening himself out and kissing your nose. “This is a much better use of my time.” You rolled your eyes, putting gentle pressure on his neck to encourage him to lean down and kiss you. He pulled you tighter to him, and you could feel his erection against your thigh. He pushed against you, enjoying the bit of friction you provided him, and you heard him grunt quietly. His hands found purchase on your ass, squeezing the flesh gently and using the angle to draw you even closer.

“Y’know—oh!” You were cut off by an especially hard squeeze as Jim’s hands continued to roam over your ass, “I do need—I need to wash my hair…”

“Tomorrow.” Was all Jim said, reaching between your bodies to place his cock where your stomach met his crotch. You gasped at the heavy feeling of him against you, and your own hand made its way down to grab hold of him. Jim choked on his own breath, eyes fluttering shut when you began to move your wrist up and down his length. Out of curiosity, you looked down to watch your ministrations, wanting to fully enjoy the view that you had so desperately craved for so long. His cock was long, and you could see and feel the veins that ran up the extent of his shaft to the pink of his tip. You moaned quietly at the sight, hoping Jim didn’t think you pathetic for the pleasure you got out of stroking him. His mouth agape, he shut his eyes tight, trying not to think about how good your hand felt. You kneeled before him, and planted a kiss on his head, licking a stripe over him.

“O—h,” he was panting, “Fuck, baby.” You watched his chest rise and fall dramatically as you took his tip between your lips, swiping your tongue over and around it a few times before beginning to inch the rest of him inside of your mouth. You moved your head up and down, gagging slightly when you felt the pressure of holding him too deep for too long against the back of your throat. “Oh, fu—yeah, that’s it. Good, baby, so good.” You hummed in appreciation of his praise, the vibrations making him bite his lip and furrow his brow in concentration, desperately trying to ward off his high before he had gotten to explore you fully. You pulled your mouth off of his cock with a pop that softly echoed in the shower, and he watched as you planted more kisses along him.

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. The vision in front of you made you feel dizzy; Jim breathing hard, cock bobbing against his stomach, wet from your spit and from the shower, hair falling over his ears, draped in a blanket of water. You rubbed your thighs together, now pruned hand resting on his knee for, what? Permission, maybe?

Jim helped you up from the floor, and you watched him turn the shower handle. In the brief moment before the water stopped completely, it turned freezing cold, and you felt goosebumps erupt over you. You brought yourself closer to Jim, both in an attempt to find warmth and in a silent plea that he continue what had begun in the shower.

Dripping wet—in more ways than one—you found yourself back in your bedroom. Lying on your back, Jim looked over you, then began kissing over the marks he had made on you in the shower. You whimpered, a hand finding his hair and lacing your fingers through his short locks. You pulled slightly when his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, and he groaned in pleasure at the sensation. His hand slowly traced down your stomach, fingers delicately finding their way to your clit before pressing on it lightly.

“Jim—!” Your exclamation motivated him to continue. He sat up a bit, kneading your bud with one hand and holding your cheek in another, holding eye contact as he slid one finger into your soaking wet center. You threw your head back, only then realizing that you hadn’t even had the time to pleasure yourself in God only knows how long. He curled his finger upwards, and your back arched into him. He smirked, clearly proud of what he was doing to you. He shuffled backwards on the bed, still pumping a finger in and out of you while he positioned himself between your legs. You felt the mattress shift under his weight when he straightened himself out onto his stomach, propped up with one elbow.

“So pretty.” You felt his breath fanning over your cunt, and you squirmed. Jim leaned into you, kissing your inner thighs while you wiggled your hips in an attempt to get his attention where you needed it the most. When he finally licked a lazy stripe over your clit, you let out an absentminded sigh, pushing yourself up to him in encouragement. He removed his finger from you, and you whined at the sudden empty feeling, though he immediately made up for the absence of his fingers with his tongue. He continued to lap at you, letting your slick coat his chin, nose brushing your clit. He sucked lightly on your bud, and your hands found his hair again, not sure if you wanted to push him in further, let him taste you until you screamed, or push him away, as your thighs began to tremble. He slid two fingers back into you and twisted them back and forth while his tongue darted over your clit. You squeezed his fingers, moans spilling from your mouth.

“C’mon baby, so good,” he removed his mouth from your core to coo at you, “wanna see you cum for me.” It was whispered into your skin, and you felt his words echo through your body. His lips found their place over your clit once more, and he sucked harder, fingers pumping in and out of you faster.

“Oh, ye—yes, like that, like that, please!” You couldn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop begging if you tried. Had falling over the edge always felt this good? You didn’t stop to ponder it, busy feeling your body fall victim to the pleasure Jim was gifting you. You moaned, trying to grab at the man who had buried himself between your legs, but he was fully content to stay where he was until he knew you’d ridden out your orgasm. You cried out his name, back arching, body granting him even more access to your pussy, and when you felt him moan at the taste of you, you came hard for him. He placed soft kisses over your cunt, and you couldn’t help the moan you let out when he began pulling his fingers out of you.

You were still panting when he kissed you. Your arms came to rest around his neck, breathing heavily through your nose as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. “Taste so good,” Jim was also clearly short of breath, “you taste that, baby?” His lips found yours again, and he let you suck gently on his tongue, let you taste yourself on him. You shivered; it felt so dirty, Jim still damp with your wet, encouraging you to enjoy the taste your cum had left on him, dipping his tongue deep into your eager mouth and speaking to you like you belonged to him.

You did belong to him, and the thought made your eyes roll back into your head.

He pulled you into his arms, flipping over so that you were lying on top of him. You found the strength to push yourself up, hands planted on his chest, to straddle him. The feeling of his cock between your legs, still hard, and all for you, made you feel frantic, and you began to roll your hips over him, feeling him tense under you.

“That’s right,” he watched you with hooded eyes, “so eager.”

“Want you to fuck me.” You felt the tip of his cock push between your folds after one especially long roll of your hips, and you didn’t care if you looked pathetic anymore. You’d waited long enough; been so good, so ignorant of the forbidden fruit. One taste, and now you were helpless—completely at his mercy.

“God, say it again.”

“I want you to fuck me, Jim. Please.” You licked your lips before slipping the bottom one between your teeth. His eyes flitted over you, taking in the way you were begging, the way you sat bare, eagerly waiting for his cock. How had he let so much time pass before giving you what you both needed? He lifted you by the waist, encouraging you to stay kneeling above him slightly as he reached another hand down to line himself up with you. The split second before you lowered yourself down onto him felt like forever, but he watched, in awe of you, as you lowered yourself down onto him. You moaned for him when you felt his tip breach your hole, reaching for his chest and grasping at nothing while you continued to take him, inch by inch. You heard him groan out your name, breath going uneven when he finally bottomed out. You stayed like that for a moment, both of you in a trance-like state: You breathed in sync, gazing at each other, smiling like morons.

“I love you.” Jim whispered, placing a hand on your hip and squeezing. You leaned forward, steadying yourself on his shoulders.

“I love you.” You kissed him again, gentler, slower than the previous times. You did have all night—you had a lifetime of all nights with each other.

You began rocking back and forth slowly, allowing yourself time to adjust to the size of him, the feeling of being so full. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your g-spot almost immediately, making you gasp as you chased the feeling of his head nudging you closer to another high.

“God—fuck, you feel so good.” Jim praised, reaching the hand that wasn’t on your hip up to squeeze at your breasts. He licked his finger before bringing it back up, pinching your nipple and rolling over it with his thumb and forefinger. You moaned, back arching, and you started to bounce up and down on him. Your nails dug into the skin on his shoulders, but he didn’t seem to care, too busy bucking up into your cunt, drunk off the feeling of your juices dripping down his length and over his balls.

He moved both his hands over your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your curves, guiding your movements while you rode him.

“Cum for me again, baby. So good for me, one more time.” He started fucking up into you harder, the sweet noises you made spurring him on. “You can do it, yeah? So good—fuck—so good for me.” Now he was practically begging, slamming you down onto his cock while he pushed you towards another orgasm.

“I—oh, fuck, me, yes! Like that, Jim—yes!” You fell forward, curling yourself up on his chest and bringing your knees up slightly higher next to his ribs to allow him more ease, lifting you up and down. You mumbled incoherently into his neck, licking and kissing and nipping at him while he continued with deep, hard thrusts. You sucked a mark on his neck, and he groaned out your name, one hand coming down over your clit to coax a second orgasm from you.

“Fucking—oh, cum for me, baby. Cum on me like this.” And maybe it was the way you felt his fingers pushing bruises into your skin, or the way he breathlessly demanded you commit such a filthy act, or the way he seemed to be getting just as much enjoyment out of your pleasure as you were; but when you felt his cock pushed forcefully against your g-spot in time with the way he played with you clit, you couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from your lungs, or the way you chanted his name through sobs of pleasure. You clenched around him, squirming and sensitive and so full of his cock. You saw stars, saw how every second of your life had led to this moment, and when the shockwave of pleasure coursed through your body, all you could do was thank the man who had made you feel so good.

“Fu—ck, oh my god,” Jim groaned through clenched teeth, trying to delay his own orgasm so he could enjoy the way you squeezed him for as long as he could. He practically threw you down onto his cock, forcing himself as deep as you’d let him go, and at that moment, the only word that mattered to him was your name. “Where—where can I cum? Tell me, baby, where?” He was gasping, so close to the edge.

“Inside. Please, Jim, want it inside.” You knew it was reckless, knew you’d have to buy a pill later, but the pros far outweighed the cons.

Your words were all it took to send Jim hurtling over the precipice. He pushed himself deep into your cunt, painting your walls with his spend, both of you shivering at the feeling. You moaned quietly into his skin, and Jim wheezed as he took gulping breaths in an attempt to regulate his breathing. You felt his hand come to rest on your back, stroking up and down, the other coming up to your hair, tempting you out of your hiding spot, nuzzled in his neck.

“Ok?” He breathed.

“Mm.” You hummed, rubbing your cheek against his, comforted by the way your faces squished together. “More than ok.”

“I should’ve—I didn’t want you to feel, I d’know—” He couldn’t think of the right words. “I love you. Just wanted you to feel how much I love you.”

You smiled, fucked out and sleepy and satisfied. “You did a good job,” you kissed him, “did I?”

“More than good.” He smiled, throwing your own words back at you in reassurance.

“Will you stay inside a little longer?” You whispered, still relishing in the way he filled you up.

“God, yes,” Jim almost laughed, “don’t have to ask.” You ran your thumb over his cheek, eyelids heavy.

“Is this the new normal?” You posed the question, remembering your earlier rant.

“Yeah. Think so.” Jim splayed his hand out over your back.

“Good.”

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #jim 28 days later #28 days later fanfiction #28 days later #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #oppenheimer

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denningsjawbreaker · 1 year ago

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FILMS AND SWEETS

by: denningsjawbreaker

SUMMARY: Young Carol comes to Readers house and they are watching some movie and it's basically a fluff story LMFAOOO. ( Also this is before prison! carol duh ! )

A/N : FIRST SHORT DRAFT I FORGOT TO POST HELP BUT ILL BE MAKING MORE IN THE FUTURE

CAROL was currently over at your house and was comfortably laying on the floor with scattered bits of wrappers from her lollipop addiction. You both were currently watching Smokey and The Bandit (which was Carol's idea and there was no arguing with her when it came to Burt Reynolds). She began to feel a bit mischievous during the silence of the film and reached for one of the unopened lollipop and throws it at the back of your head.

" OOMF ! " you turned around and rubs the spot she hit and narrowed at her . She returned with an innocent smile but was chuckling.

" Thought that was funny did ya ? " You asked her as she shrugged her shoulders and leaned back against your bed and sucked on the lollipop. You had a small pout forming as you crawled to sit next to her and looked up at her.

Carol turned to you with a slight smirk and she took out her lollipop and held ur chin with her hand and brought ur face closer to her. " You know I was just messing with you doll. You know how much I love it " she whispers and looks at you up and down before placing a small chaste kiss against your plump lips.

You're pout quickly turned into a huge smile and melted in the palm of her hands. No matter what Carol did you knew she would always have this HOLD on you. She was just your favorite person ever and just spending time with Carol just made you happy and as much as Carol tries to hide it you DEFINITELY made her shitty life way tolerable.

" Doll, what do you say ? Forgive me and we can watch The Longest Yard " she asks while playing with your hair and is smirking a bit . You shake head and playfully cross your arms.

" Care, you promised me after this we would watch the Lost Boys though " you whined and wrapped your arms around your Burt Obsessed bird girlfriend . She pouts and sighs and looks at her Burt Poster she plastered on your wall since your room was basically her room .

" You really want me to deny Burt..." she asked in a small voice with her head tilt at you lowkey making her glasses fall onto the tip of her nose. You sigh and purse your lip looking at Carol who was making it harder for you to resist .

With a groan of loss you go over to your VHS tapes and put in " The Longest Yard " and you sit back with Carol who had a wide smile and was holding your her blanket as the movie began and looks at you.

" You are the best thing that's ever happened to me ! You know that? " she exclaims with a bit of a squeal and kisses your cheek and pulls you closer to her and wraps her arms around you while sharing the blanket .

You smiled at her happiness as you both enjoyed the 6th Burt Movie y'all watched tonight. You didn't actually mind though because all you needed was the HAPPINESS of Carol and her being happy and cared for.

" Can We watch Deliverance next ?" Carol asked and you chuckle.

" Let's just finish this one first before we get ahead of ourselves - "

" What- I don't get ahead- "

" Carol... "

" Fine..." Carol sighs and pouts while holding you still but she has a small smile as she feels your hand rubbing circles on her skin. Both of you enjoying the movie with no worries or stress.

This is what's most important .

[ PLS comment if you'd like to be featured in my future tagged list for Carol stories ]

#carol denning x reader #carol denning imagine #carol denning #orange is the new black imagine #oitnb #ashley jordyn #young carol

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myveryownfanfiction · 1 year ago

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Rickmans day 7: stormy reunion

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @deepperplexity, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @cassieuncaged

warnings: swearing

I groaned as the rain started pouring down. I had thought the weather in Los Angeles was bad but New York weather was worse. I had been caught without an umbrella and trying to catch a taxi was like trying to catch smoke in a bottle. Traffic slowed down as the rain started to pick up. Just as I got a taxi to pull over, someone else went to grab the door handle.

“hey!” I cried while I turned to look at the person. My eyes went wide and I gasped. “Hans?” I breathed out. The man standing next to me blinked at me as he slowly nodded. “Oh my god. I thought…”

“Not here. Please.” He whispered. I nodded and watched as he opened the car door. “Get in. We can talk when we get to your apartment.” I nodded again and got in. Hans slid in next to me and closed the door. I watched in shock as he gave the driver my address and we pulled back into traffic.

“Hans.” I breathed out, reaching out for his hand. Hans smiled at me as he turned his hand over, intertwining our fingers. We sat quietly, thoughts running rampant in my head. The more I thought about it the more pissed off I got at him. He left me after nakatomi. He made me think he had died. And then took the money and ran! My emotions started to brew just like the storm outside the cab. I didn’t let go of Hans’ hand through it all, scared that if I let go it would all prove to be a dream or a figment of my imagination. When we pulled up to my apartment, Hans paid the driver and helped me out. My gaze had turned stony and I tried not to look at Hans even as he walked by my side, fingers still interlocked.

“(Y/N).” He started when we had entered my apartment. I dropped his hand and turned on him.

“don’t.” I growled. “Don’t do that. You left me. You took the money and went god knows where. You fucking left me hans! I didn’t know where to go or what to do because every contingency plan hinged on you being there to put it in motion.” I pointed my finger at him and ground my teeth. The pain in my jaw brought me back. “I thought you had died you bastard.” Hans held his hands up. I could see the tick in his jaw that meant he was thinking how to gain control of the situation again. And then in a second everything dropped. His gaze. His face. His hands.

“I did.” He admitted. “I didn’t want to. I was supposed to be able to get out of there quickly and find you. Take you away.” Hans took a step towards me. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…” he sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t supposed to…that wasn’t…” he squeezed his eyes shut and slowly lowered himself to his knees. “I didn’t plan on it. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” Hans looked up at me. He put his hands together and pressed them against his chest.

“how am I supposed to believe that?” I asked, my temper abating slightly as I stared at him. “From the man who planned everything out. Down to our…” Hans chuckled and shook his head.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He admitted. “I didn’t think there was going to be someone running around the building.” We stared at each other for a few minutes before hans stood slowly. “I understand. If you want me to leave. If you never want to see me again. But I needed you to know…” he smiled at me and his expression turned sad. “I didn’t do it on purpose. If I had any say in it, I would have made my way back to you long before today. I love you and I never wanted to hurt you.” I stared at him as he slowly advanced towards me.

“That doesn’t change the fact it took you so long to do it Hans.” I hugged myself as he stopped in front of me. He nodded.

“I know. And I’m incredibly sorry for that.” He said softly, trying to catch my eye. “The police kept looking for me when I disappeared from the hospital. I finally got them off my tail. My brother landed yesterday. He’s a bigger fish to fry than me. I can move about as I please now. And I’m here to stay.” Hans reached out and rubbed my arm.

“Simon is here?” I asked. Hans nodded. “They’re going to have a field day with him.” He laughed and nodded again.

“Am I forgiven?” He asked. I have him a small smile.

“maybe. Maybe not.” I shrugged. Hans laughed and leaned down to kiss me.

“given your amount of snark I’d say I am.” He said just before his lips made contact with mine.

#alan rickman #alan rickman fanfiction #alan rickman fanfic #alan rickman imagine #alan rickman x reader #hans gruber #hans gruber fanfiction #hans gruber fanfic #hans Gruber x reader #hans gruber imagine #Rickmas #rickmas2023

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bizarrrrrrre · 5 months ago

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GUYS meet my first ResDogs work written in English (copied from my AO3)

P.S. Yeah, I am sorry for this smutty gay stuff being posted here pls forgive me 🙏

Raiting: Teen and up audiences

Additional tags: PWP, Angst, Drabble

Relationship: Freddy / Larry

Summary: White can take whatever he wants, himself. But he won't.

(!) Warning: imaginary non-con

- Wait...

White freezes. Freddy hears his muffled, hoarse breathing, feels him with the back of his head and bights his own lips while burying his face in the pillow.

- What's wrong? - the voice is very close to his ear, so Freddy chuckles and winces, glad that Larry can't see his facial expression right now. Good question. But the answer is not so easy to give. He can't just say that everything here is wrong, - it's not about him.

- Not so harsh, - he sighs and and hisses shortly, biting his lips again.

- Hurts?

- Hurts.

White could do and say anything now. He could pull away, sharply and on purpose, so Freddy feels the fire blazing between his legs again, then throw him his crumpled T-shirt while pointing to the door. Or, vice versa, he could be hammering him into the dented mattress until he cums, while covering his mouth with his hand and hissing "be patient and shut the fuck up" right into his ear. This would be much more painful.

- Stop making a virgin of yourself, kid, - he could say, grabbing his waist and pulling him closer, impaling Freddy on his dick. - You're whining like a girl.

He could grab a handful of his hair and pull him back so hard that Freddy's spine would crunch, making him bend while waling and scratching the sheets. He could pin his wrists to the bed while fucking him as roughly as he can, like some cheap shabby whore that doesn't deserve any compassion or gentleness. He could do literally everything to him, he could hurt him any way he wish, - and Freddy deserves it, for sure.

While sighs deeply and leaves a weightless kiss on his wet forehead.

- Sorry, kid. - He finds Freddy's palm with his own, wide and dry, and grabs it so tough that his knuckles become almost white, interlocking their fingers. - I'll try being gentle.

- Sh-h-h, - he whispers to Freddy's ear after his attempt to reach out for him, bending at the waist. - Everything you do is causing even more pain. Just chill.

- Easy to say, - he sighs huskily while grining to the pillow. White laughs calmly somewhere near his ear - and then lips the tip of his ear gently, touches his earlobe with his tongue while pressing his cheeck to his hair.

- Don't think about tomorrow, - he murmurs, cooling the wet mark on Freddy's skin with his breath. - Just... Let it happen. And that's it. Okay?

Freddy swallows the sharp lump in his throat, and it feels like he's scratching it with some rusty grater.

White starts kissing tha back of his head, then his neck, then that soft hidden place behind his ear, and then almost buries his face into Freddy's hair. White holds his arm so he doesn't twitch too sharply. It's hard for White to control himslef and hold back, Freddy feels it in his breathing, the tension in his arms. But he will not break loose unless Freddy squeezes his hand back which means he allows him to continue. He could do it any second he wants. He's strong and dominate, and - Freddy knows it for sure - cruel enough to do it.

White, or Laurence Dimmick from Milwaukee, or Larry, who he wish he could call like this all the time. But he must not let him know that he somehow is already aware of his real name. White could take whatever he wants, himself. But he won't.

Freddy tilts his head back and presses to White's cheeck with his own, eyes closed, and sighs:

- Don't hold it back... It's okay now.

It feels like his eyes are swelling. White pushes forward inside him, while digging into his shoulder, so Freddy exhales harshly while biting his already swollen lips and trying to drive the tears away.

Thieves do not cry. As well as cops.

It makes you look like a girl.

Notes: This work is a translation of another one originally written in Russian.

#reservoir dogs #90s #fanfiction #ao3 #harvey keitel #tim roth #ao3 fanfic #larry dimmick #freddy newandyke #creamsicle

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luvistqrzzz · 2 years ago

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THE ACCIDENTAL POLAROID- 20::: Love, Y/N ( written::: 0.47K )

( warnings::: none )

This was a bad idea. This was the worst out of the bad ideas you've ever had but there you were again finding your way to Heeseung's locker, an envelope clutched in your hand.

You didn't know what putting "things right" meant but all you wanted was to apologize to him and after what he had said, talking to him face-to-face might just make matters worse (also sending letters was romantic and you were a coward). Needless to say, you had cursed yourself a countless times for your actions that day.

When you reached the locker, you quickly looked around your surroundings to check for any signs of him before slipping it past the slot and, quite literally, sprinting away in the opposite direction to hide behind a pillar.

After a while of waiting, you saw Heeseung approach from the distance. Your stomach did a sudden flip at his sight.

Now, the said boy was living in much the same dilemma, of how to walk up to you and kiss you talk to you. At least his friends had been successful on putting some sense into him.

Heeseung opened the locker only to find a big creme coloured envelope inside. He furrowed his eyebrows before opening it.

Inside it was a polaroid, tucked safely along with a letter. He took in a sharp breath. The polaroid of yours he took months ago. Your face bent down, a small pretty smile grazing your face.

Dear Heeseung or should i say 'mr.H'?,

So i kinda figured out you'll be the only who sent me this polaroid, im not wrong right? Cuz you have terrible photography skills! Im kinda sad that it's already fading :( i cant believe that it was one damned polaroid that lead me to you. But i wouldn't have it any other way

Moving on, lemme get straight to the point. Im sorry for what i did and im also sorry for being a coward and not being able to tell you this personally (also i figured you wouldn't wanna talk to me). Nothing can compare to what i did that day... and s*ngh**n told me that b4 i kissed him, i said that i missed you. Yes, you, Lee Heeseung. And ik our relation wont prolly get back to normal but i hope you accept my apology... its okay if you don't forgive me, now or ever.

But in the end, i like you heeseung. A lot. And i wish we could take more polaroids like this one, i wish we could document our lives in polaroids and when we get old we'll see those fading pieces of paper and laugh at ourselves.

- Love, Y/N.

From your crouched position behind the pillar you saw as Heeseung folded the paper and stalked the other way. It meant nothing, he was just walking away but why did you then feel your heart sink?

Prev | Masterlist | Next

SUMMARY- Lee Heeseung doesn't believe in love at first sight but what happens when he accidentally clicks a polaroid of a girl at the local diner? A girl he can't seem to get out of his mind.

Will he be able to return you the polaroid or will love follow him along the way?

GENRE- smau with written parts, college!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, crack, angst (veryyy slight), slight love triangle

TAGLIST- open! send an ask or comment to be added- @yenqa @xuimhao @ddazed-lhs @astrae4 @ghostiiess @seungminstaehyun @haechansbbg @chaechae-23 @ak-aaa-li @whippedforbeomgyu @ahnneyong @ineedaherosavemeenow @jhopesucker @j-wyoung @tnyhees @liliansun @rikizm @jadeluvsenha

( bold = cannot tag )

AN- enjoy the cliffhanger my loves 😘... also if yall want pls vote whether yall will prefer love theory ( summary ) to be a smau here! 🙏🏼

#📸accidental polaroid !#enhypen smau #hyfenet #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen social media au #enhypen au #enhypen fanfics #heeseung imagines #enhypen fake texts #enha fics #enhypen fluff #lee heeseung #heeseung smau #enha fake texts

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ruruslayrr · 1 year ago

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Churros kisses

Synopsis : Gojo and Hina go on the their first date after being enemies who were mutually pining for each other for nearly 6 years. They love each other but it's hard to let go of their bickering.

Tags : Gojo×fem OC , fluff, they're idiots in love, established relationship, OC is a jujutsu sorcerer. Enemies to lovers? Clingy Gojo, Soft Gojo, grumpy×sunshine, Excited Gojo, angst? If you squint, post-mutual pining, they're around 21 and 22 age wise, you can self-insert if you want.

WC : 2k

Notes : I just want a clingy gojo hanging off me okayy🤨. This is based off a prompt by (once I find them I will tag them), I'm stupid pls forgive me. I'm reposting from Ao3. Just plain old brainrot

“I’m not going to do that” “But” “No” “Just” “No“ “ For me?”

Gojo pouted, lowering his shades a bit so that she could see his puppy dog eyes, tilting his head to the side hoping you would give in to his demands.

She felt her will crumble.

Hina would never admit out loud how her heart squeezed at his antics.

“………. fine’, she sighed, giving up. She let him put the black bunny ears on her head

She sighed again turning to look at him, red creeping up her skin.

He was smiling so wide she almost forgot her embarrassment for a minute.

Sighing, she relented.

well if it made him happy.

Gojo excitedly continued to look for matching headbands for himself and asked her what suited him the best.

The 6’3’ towering man enthusiastically modelled in front of the mirror, she noticed how everyone in the store also ogled at him, whispering excitedly. Hina surreptitiously moved closer to him plucking a headband from the stand and reaching up on her toes to place them on his head.

His answering smile was blinding “I knew it! Cat ears suit me best “

Hina rolled her eyes trying not to smile.

Gojo grinned at her and pulled her to the mirror so they could both see themselves in the mirror.

“We look adorable, don’t we?”

He looked cute, and she looked like she would rather be anywhere than here, but they did look good, thought Hina.

“This is so embarrassing “, she grumbled instead.

He took out his phone to snap a million pictures.

“Your right! we are adorable. “ he said, ignoring her earlier statement.

Gojo paid for the headbands and threw an arm over her shoulder, guiding themselves out of the souvenir shop. He used his other hand to gesture to the amusement park dramatically.

“ Are you ready Hina Chan? Ready to go on our very first date to the amusement park”

“It’s not the first time we have come here”, Hina informed him.

“ Ahh but it is the first time we are here as a couple “

Couple.

Hina's stomach did flips.

She cleared her throat and tried to look away so he wouldn’t see the blush rising up her face.

“Let’s go “ she announced and started strutting ahead first.

She tried to ignore how hot her face had become. It was positively embarrassing how the smallest things made her feel like she was on cloud nine.

“ Hey ey Hina Chan here are you rushing off without me, “ he asked excitedly bounding after her.

Hina slowed down.

“Wait a second, are you possibly blushing?”

‘“No “

“What did calling us a couple get you feeling all tingly”

“No”

“ Aw come on. Look at me. I want to see your blushing face”

“I’m not blushing, “ she said stubbornly walking ahead, trying to keep some distance between them.

Her heart was reacting all weirdly today and she felt the mask she always kept in place slipping. She would be damned if she let Gojo see her like this.

His long legs easily caught up with her and entwined his arm with hers. Clinging to her side, he put his weight on her side.

She tried to shake him off.

Gojo tried to peer into Hina’s face.

“Aww”, he started cooing, “You are so cute when you are embarrassed”

“Do you want to get your ass kicked”

“Kinky babe, I’m trying to keep this a pg 13 date.”

“You are definitely getting punched.”

“Please go ahead, and continue your little threats.”, He lowered his voice and whispered.

“You know how that gets me going”, He chuckled and proceeded to bite her ear.

“GOJO !! “ she yelped, elbowing him.

“Oww,” he said rubbing his stomach. pouting at her.

She looked around to see if anyone else had noticed his antics most of the people around them were either couples or parents trying to manage their kids, and oblivious to them.

“But….”, his pout slowly turned into a smirk. “Well now I can at least see your face “

“You’re so red you are blending into your hair!”

Hina squawked indignant, before turning and walking away.

Gojo laughed. His long strides caught up with her once more, he went back to clinging and hanging off in Hina’s arm.

Hina grumbled silently as Gojo began to drag her to every ride in the amusement park.

“ Hey you signed up to date me”, he reminded me, smirking.

“I’m really questioning my decision-making skills “

“Oh they’re terrible, “ he told me seriously. “I’m so glad they suck though, that’s how I could get you to go out with me “ he stated winking at her.

Hina snorted.

Gojo laughed wrapping his arms around her shoulders and giving her a slight squeeze, his laughter still rumbling in his chest.

She rolled her eyes and failed to hide her own smile adorning her face.

Hina’s heart felt warm looking at his overconfident smirk. She had hated it once and on more than one occasion had tried to smack it off his face but she had to grudgingly admit to herself that particular smirk now had a special place in her heart.

The sun had begun to set.

After going on almost all the rides in the park, despite her protests she had given into Gojo’s whining about how they had to have the full amusement park date experience.

“ Gojo let’s take a break “Hina finally said, and before he could pout, she continued “I know you are exhausted too. I can see you wincing “

Hina had noticed how his eyes looked tired behind his dark glasses, he had winced every time there had been a lot of light on his face.

He stopped at that, eyes widening slightly. She dragged him to a bench under the shade. “Sit and close your eyes for a bit, Why didn’t you just wear your blindfold”

“It’s not that bad, I don’t get exhausted that quickly “ he mumbled taking a seat.

“I know you’ve been working without a break this week you know. Where’s you blindfolded?”, she asked exasperatedly.

“T’is our first date, so I decided not to get it “, he mutters defensively.

Hina pursed her lips. ‘“I’ll go get some water, so rest “, she said pointing at the seat

He let out a petulant humpf .

“Just a few minutes”

He sighed, closing his eyes

“Get me dessert too”, he huffed.

Hina gave an amused chuckle before going to the refreshments kiosk. It took her some time waiting in line to get the water and refreshments.

By the time she returned, She saw something that made her scowl.

There were three girls surrounding your boyfriend, one of them actually batted her eyelashes and flirted with him.

She scoffed and went up to them.

Hina gritted her teeth and tried her best to mask her irritation Gojo seemed to notice you and started smiling but an expression of surprise took over instead.

Hina turned to the girls.

One of the girls felt a cold chill up her spine and turned to Hina, She balked feeling irritation just rolling off her. The other two also turned to look at her frowning. They looked slightly intimidated at the sight of her. Gojo slid next to Hina, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“And this my lovely girlfriend that I was talking about girls”, he announced happily.

“Well. Hello there”, she said her voice clipped.

The girls visibly shrunk under Hina’s cold glare.

“I see “, they mumbled, laughing awkwardly.“We should leave “, said one of them, dragging the other two away from us.

“Scary “ chuckled Gojo looking at her.

“I didn’t even do anything! “, stated Hina.

“You didn’t need to, their survival instinct probably kicked in ”, he chuckled.

She scoffed indignantly.

He had a large smug grin plastered on his face, his icy blue eyes staring at her lips for a beat too long and then moving to her eyes.

Hina felt a shiver pass down her spine at that look.

“Jealousy and looking imposing does look good on you though” He praised.

Hina scowled at him. Handing him the churros she bought for him.

He paused looking at the three flavors.

“I got you all the flavours they had, I didn’t want you to complain about not being able to try all the flavours” she stated.

She looked up at his face again “ Now What??”, she asked exasperated, looking at his expression turning shy.

“What “, she asked again defensively, He had turned his head away, but she still noticed the tips of his ear turning pink.

“I know you have an ice-cold princess persona to maintain but I’ve observed you for years so I know what you really mean when you are hiding your emotions”

“I do not “

“Please 6 years of you scowling at the sight of me has taught me things, for example “, he drawled. “You would say things like ‘Gojo you're an idiot! When you really meant ‘Oh Gojo you are the love of my life!’ “

“I did not! “

He continued seriously, his face turning soft. “I know you don’t really like showing your feelings”, he shrugged “But it’s fine since I know you like me, but I have to admit it feels really good to see you unable to control your emotions and display how much you like me ”, he smirked

That stopped her short. She knew she wasn’t exactly the most lovey-dovey person, she knew she was a little cold, especially to him, while he was clingy, obnoxious and loud about his feelings. He had put up posters on the school noticeboard when she had agreed to be his friend in high school, which had led to her promptly denouncing their friendship.

She thought about their day, she felt guilty when she realized she’d grumbled the entire day and tried to put as much distance as possible between them as she could. But then again that was because he was just incredibly handsy with absolutely no sense of decorum.

She sighed, confessing “I’m sorry that I’m not exactly very open but I do like you”, she said quietly. “I’m just used to being angry and mean to you that it's kinda hard to remember that I don’t hate you anymore, so I’ll work..on….”, mumbled Hina.

‘“That..mak..es sense“, said Gojo with his mouth filled with food. She looked at him realizing he was inhaling the churros when she was opening up.

He was still chewing, his mouth full of food. He nodded at her thinking.

Hina’s eye twitched and she remembered why he had annoyed her for all these years.

She sighed in frustration and started walking ahead.

But he had been right about her not being as affectionate, and she did like seeing his stupid smiles. She sighed again, halting.

She turned to him, vowing to try more but noticed his empty hands..“You didn’t even leave any for me “, she accused.

He looked apologetic. “You don’t really like sweets”, he countered.

“Still!”

“I’m sorry. I’ll buy all your favourites for dinner “

He gave her puppy dog eyes, bending to her height to meet her eyes and pout. The cat headband slipped lower on his fluffy white hair.

“And snacks for a week”, she interrupted.

“Done”, He promised.

She chuckled and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers.

She tried to control the blush rising up her cheeks.

He looked at their hands and looked at Hina with an almost giddy expression that knocked the breath out of her.

She giggled.

His expression darkened and his eyes flitted to her mouth.

“Don’t “she warned

He ignored her warning pulling her close and pressing a wet kiss to her cheek,

“Gojo! There are kids here! “ she yelped.

He kissed her again and this time she couldn’t stop the giggles that escaped her.

She sighed, giving up and closed her eyes as he brought his lips to hers in a slow, melting kiss, that had her smiling against his lips.

The kiss made her forget about decorum.

Screw it.

She gave up and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer.

#Dividers #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #gojo fic #soft gojo #enemies to lovers #ao3 fanfic #gojo saturo #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #grumpy sunshine trope #original character #divider by cafekitsune

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tehmichi · 2 years ago

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Massages and Happy Endings - Part 2 - Beautiful

Notes: I wrote this back a few months ago, and I went over it a little now to touch it up. Hope you enjoy it! Can be read as a female reader insert. (Also, I'm new to posting fics on tumblr. pls forgive formatting errors) Part 1

Tags: Body worship, praise kink, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, p in v smexy times, female ejaculation

Gaz had been a little nervous since the night before. While he was excited at the idea of getting a long overdue massage, he was worried about it being too much work for Stella. It’d been a good few years since his last one, so he was certain there were was going to be a lot of pent-up tension to work through.

Stella disappeared that morning after breakfast and didn’t come back until after lunch. She’d returned with a few bags of things and assured everyone she’d eaten before coming back. Right after that, she disappeared into the med bay and requested to not be bothered until Gaz’s appointment time.

He knocked on the door shortly before three.

“Come in, it’s unlocked,” Stella’s voice called from the other side. Gaz turned the knob and stepped in, surprised at how the base medical wing had been transformed. Soft music played through a small speaker, while the room was adorned with dimmed lights and candles.

“Wow,” Gaz said, impressed.

“You can strip behind the curtain and get in the bed when you’re ready,” Stella said from her desk. Her back was turned towards him as she read on her tablet.

“Underwear?”

“Your choice. Though I will need to lower it slightly to massage your lower back.”

“Alright,” Gaz said, seeing the curtain. “Music’s nice.”

“It’s one of those weird lo-fi stations on youtube,” Stella said with a giggle. “If you want anything else let me know. I’m not too fond of those Zen music stations. The singing bowls distract me,” she continued as Gaz started to take off his clothes. He chuckled at her admission, feeling a little more at ease.

“Thanks for doin’ this for us, Stella,” Gaz said as he finished removing the last of his clothes.

“Of course. You all deserve it after all the shit we’ve been through these last few months.”

“Agreed,” Gaz said as he climbed onto the bed.

“Do you want me to start with your back?”

“Yes, please,” Gaz answered.

“Okay. Any area, in particular, you want me to focus on?”

“My shoulders.”

“I feel like that’s what all of you are going to ask,” Stella chuckled.

“Probably,” Gaz said, laying down and covering himself as much as possible. “I’m settled.”

“Alright,” Stella replied. Gaz heard her set down the e-reader before slowly walking toward him. “Close your eyes, relax, and it’s okay if you fall asleep,” she said. Gaz heard a bottle open before the smell of coconut and almond invaded his senses. “I’m going to start on your legs and slowly work my way up. After that, I'll ask you to flip over. Deal?”

“Yes,” Gaz answered as he felt the blanket being lifted up on his left leg. Her hands were warm as she started working through his foot first before reaching his calf, applying gentle pressure as she massaged the muscle. Gaz groaned as she continued forth up to his thigh, feeling knots coming undone with minor pressure and pain. “Fuck,” he groaned as Stella undid a particularly stubborn knot mid-thigh.

“Good?” Stella asked softly.

“Yes,” Gaz breathed.

“Moving onto your right leg,” Stella said, covering him up before moving around the table. “Is the oil good?”

“Yes,” Gaz answered, closing his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Stella said as she resumed massaging him. The calming tunes helped as he melted under her hands. After she finished with his right leg and covered him up, Stella moved the blanket down to get to his back. “Pressure okay?”

“Yes,” Gaz breathed, coming back from his nearly asleep trance.

“Let me know if it’s too much. This is going to take me a while.”

“Will do, Stella,” Gaz said as he heard the bottle opening once more. Her hands returned as she started with his lower back, varying in pressure. As she moved he could hear small little grunts and sighs as she worked on him.

“Jesus,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Your back is absolutely wrecked. This is going to hurt.”

“Can’t be worse than a bullet.”

“You’d be surprised, Kyle,” Stella said, finding a particularly stubborn muscle. Gaz tensed at the sound of his name coming from her lips instead of his callsign.

“Fuck!” Gaz cried, now fully understanding what she meant.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” Stella said, withdrawing her hands.

“No, don’t,” Gaz insisted.

“Alright. Your call,” Stella said, as she got back to the massage. Gaz kept breathing through it, feeling each knot come undone with some minor pain. “Doing okay there, Kyle?”

“Yes,” Gaz replied, feeling more relaxed as Stella finally finished. He liked the sound of his name coming from her. It sounded sweet. She started working on his shoulders and arms, causing more pain to slip through while she massaged his pent-up stress away. “Oh, fuck,” Gaz groaned as another knot came undone. “Your hands are magic, luv,” he added.

“Thanks,” Stella said, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. She cleared her throat to remind herself that now was not the time to fantasize. As she’d expected, Gaz’s arms were the hardest muscles to work with. After a long few minutes, she felt the stress come apart thanks to her hard work. “All that’s left is your neck and I’ll ask you to flip over, alright?”

“Yes, luv,” Gaz said, moaning after he felt her hands on him again. Stella pressed her lips together as she worked, adding a little extra oil to her hands before getting back at it. Gaz closed his eyes again, relaxing under her hands and feeling the warmth radiating from her.

“Flip over,” Stella whispered, as she released him. Gaz carefully flipped himself around, laying down on his back. He felt that he was semi-hard, something he was already somewhat used to from massages. “How are you feeling so far?”

“Great,” Gaz answered, smiling slightly. Stella had stepped aside for a moment, grabbing some more of the massage oil. He took a moment to admire her under the dim lights. She was beautiful, dressed down in a loose shirt and tight shorts. Her hair had been swept up in a messy bun that rested atop the crown of her head. The team had all previously discussed how stunning they found her, and seeing her like this added fuel to fantasies he’d had previously.

“Good,” Stella said as she set the bottle aside. “I’m glad,” she added, slowly walking over toward him once more with a bright smile. “I’m going to go over your arms again and finish at your stomach, alright?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Gaz answered as Stella grabbed his left arm and got back to work, starting with his hand. Her soft little noises returned, Gaz feeling every single one of them down to his length. She was focused, Stella’s expression mostly serious. Her plump lips slightly parted as she kept going down his arm. Gaz took the time to keep his eyes on her, admiring the little freckles that dotted her face, the small scar above her left eye from shrapnel a few months back, and the smallest smile that seemed to permanently rest on her face. “Luv?”

“Yeah?” Stella whispered, releasing his left arm and going around to grab his right. Gaz noticed the slight flush of her cheeks, finding her even more precious than before.

“You’re very good at this.” .

“Thanks,” she said softly. He could feel more comforting warmth radiating from Stella, grounding him in the present and the intimacy of this moment. Gaz closed his eyes and lost himself in the moment, wandering into some of his fantasies thanks to the added soundtrack. Visions of Stella under him as he fucked her good, feeling her soft skin under his lips as he kissed every inch of her, those sweet little sounds that were setting him on fire and causing him to get harder under the blanket. “I’m almost done,” Stella said softly, startling him back to reality.

“Shit,” Gaz said, opening his eyes and seeing his new problem. “I’m sorry, Stella,” he said, looking from his painfully throbbing length to her.

“Gaz, this is one of my side gigs when I’m not on deployment, I’m used to that,” Stella said, still working on his stomach.

“It’s not because of the massage,” Gaz said, swallowing nervously. Stella pulled back, her cheeks flushed once more.

“Oh,” she said, struggling to find her next words. “Um, okay,” she said, swallowing nervously.

“I can leave if you-”

“No, it’s fine,” Stella said quickly. She was avoiding his gaze, more focused on the tented erection under the blanket.

“Stella?” Gaz asked, slowly sitting up.

“Sorry,” she apologized, panting.

“Where did you go, luv?”

“The same place you probably did,” she answered, finally looking at him.

“You’ve thought about me?”

“Yes. All of you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m one woman in a team of six very attractive men and I can’t bring a fucking toy on deployment,” Stella mumbled. “I’ve seen plenty, and over this whole time, I’ve built considerable connections with all of you. Attraction followed right after that.”

“All at once or…?”

“No, not all at once. I prefer the intimacy of one on one. Have not had more than that,” she said, avoiding Gaz’s eyes as she felt the tension in the room starting to spark.

“We’ve all thought about you,” Gaz admitted.

“What?” Stella asked in disbelief.

“Stella, you’re beautiful. Inside and out. We’ve all had fantasies about you but out of respect, none of us have dared to approach,” Gaz answered. Stella slowly walked over toward him, swallowing nervously. “You’ve taken care of us since this whole mess started. We all want to return the favor you’re doing for us this week. Would you let us?” Gaz asked.

“You all like me that much?”

“Luv, you have no idea,” Gaz said. “Hell, last night we all agreed that unless you said or did something, we weren’t going to make a move on you.” Stella laughed nervously, still in disbelief.

“If I say yes, each of you will give me a happy ending after your massage?”

“In so many words,” Gaz said with a chuckle. “What do you say?”

“Sure, why the fuck not?” Stella said, noticing how his gaze darkened at her consent. “I wasn’t exactly done, Kyle.”

“Yes, you are,” Gaz said, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around her wrist and pulling her toward him. “I’m relaxed enough.”

“How long have you guys been thinking about this?” Stella whispered.

“Months, luv,” Gaz admitted, releasing her wrist and grasping her by the neck gently. “Months.”

“Wow,” she whispered, still stunned this was happening. “All of us are in for a fun week, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are,” Gaz said, guiding her down to his lips in a kiss. He pulled back slightly, watching how Stella slowly opened her eyes and smiled. “Beautiful,” he whispered. Stella giggled, climbing onto the bed. “Please tell me you have condoms in here.”

“Current IUD,” Stella said. “Last partner was years ago. I’ve only used toys or my fingers since.” Gaz growled at her words, feeling his length twitch.

“You’re going to be full of us by the end of the week,” he said huskily.

“Fuck,” Stella breathed. Gaz chuckled darkly, claiming her lips in a searing kiss. Stella quickly grabbed the hem of her shirt, slowly tugging it upwards. She broke apart from Gaz’s lips to cast it aside, latching back onto his lips as Gaz reached over and undid the clasp of her bra expertly. It slid off her arms before he threw that aside, in the opposite direction of the candles.

“Lie down, luv,” Gaz asked as he pulled back for air. Stella nodded, her lust driving her wild as Gaz lifted the sheets off the bed and gave her room to do as asked. “Gods, you’re stunning,” he whispered, cupping her left breast before taking the right one in his mouth. Stella gasped at the contact, moaning as his tongue swirled the soft nub, bringing it to a peak.

“Oh, fuck,” Stella gasped as Gaz switched his mouth from one mound to the other. Her soft pants and moans were sweeter as he kept building her up slowly. He released her breast and slowly trailed his fingers down to the hem of her shorts and underwear, finding her slick with arousal.

“How long have you been this wet, sweetheart?” Gaz whispered after releasing her peaked nipple.

“A bit,” she admitted, panting. “Talking about how much you all have wanted me helped. And uh…that little wild thought I had earlier too.”

“This cunt is goin’ to get so much attention from us,” Gaz said as his fingers carefully circled around her clit. “Tonight, it’s mine,” he growled, sliding a finger inside of her.

“Yes,” Stella gasped, a soft whimper escaping her.

“Don’t be quiet, luv,” Gaz encouraged her, placing soft kisses up her chest until he reached the pulse point on her neck. A second finger joined the first, filling her up further. Sweet pleas escaped her lips as she was built higher. Months of yearning, finally being fulfilled, With each curl of Gaz’s fingers, her release drew nearer. “That’s it,” he panted onto her neck, inserting a third finger. She bucked against him, gripping him by the arm as she came, digging her nails to ground herself as his name escaped her. “Beautiful,” Gaz breathed into her ear as she slowly came down from her high.

“Oh, Kyle,” she panted.

“I want to taste you, that alright?”

“God, yes,” Stella moaned. “I love being eaten out.” Gaz smirked, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of her lips as he withdrew his fingers.

“Thank you,” he whispered, leaving soft kisses as he lay Stella flat on her back and continued downward. In one swift movement, her shorts and underwear joined the rest of her clothes on the flooer as Gaz positioned himself at the apex of her thighs. He licked along her slit, groaning at her taste. “Sweet, just like you, luv,” he said, placing a soft peck on her right thigh. “I want to hear you enjoyin’ yourself. Let them listen, they know what this means.”

“That-that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Stella admitted with flushed cheeks.

“You’ll be hearin’ that all week,” Gaz said with a smirk, nipping at the plush flesh of her thigh.

“Don’t tease me,” Stella whimpered.

“I’d never, luv,” Gaz said, kissing his way slowly to her folds. His tongue darted between, using delicate licks to savor her taste before dipping his tongue inside of her. Stella moaned at the welcome intrusion, gasping as Gaz’s thumb slowly circled her clit. Another whimper escaped her lips as Gaz withdrew his tongue from her core and released the pressure on her clit, his mouth arriving at her sensitive bundle of nerves and lightly sucking on it.

“Fuck!” Stella mewled, panting as Gaz built her up. Stella gripped the sides of the bed, arching her back as ripples of pleasure kept coursing through her. “Kyle,” she moaned, whimpering as she felt another orgasm drawing nearer. She squirmed beneath him, riding his tongue measured movements. The feel of his tongue and mouth were driving her wild, nothing else mattered right now but Kyle taking care of her in the way she was craving. Stella cried out her second orgasm in a loud cry of his name, squirting all over his face. The sargeant lapped up all of it, groaning at the taste as he licked her clean. “Oh God,” Stella panted.

“Feelin’ good?”

“Yes. And I’ll be better once you fuck me,” Stella answered.

“Our gorgeous girl,” Kyle said, removing himself from her center and placing a soft kiss on her stomach. She let out a soft giggle as she slowly sat up. Gaz carefully wrapped an arm around her neck, angling her face towards him to capture her lips in a kiss as he positioned himself at her entrance. He slowly worked his way in, groaning at the way her walls gripped him. Stella’s soft little grunts returned, fulfilling his earlier fantasy as they sounded better in real life as he filled her. Kyle sighed once he was fully sheathed, giving himself and Stella a moment to collect themselves.

“Fuck,” she panted. “I forgot how good this feels,” she moaned. He started slow, savoring the feeling of being inside of her.

“You feel so good, luv,” Kyle groaned, cunt-drunk and moving faster. He tightened the hold around her neck, keeping his eyes on her. Her cries of ecstasy were music to his ears, and knowing he was the cause brought a dark smirk to his lips as he slammed into harder. The way she could barely speak, only chanting his name over and over again as Kyle kept pushing into her with fervent need. Stella came loudly, clenching around his length as she released herself all over him, adding more wet friction to their union. “That’s so fuckin’ hot, Stella,” he grunted, the sounds of his wet thrusts overpowered by her blissful sounds.

“Ah, ah,” Stella whimpered, her voice going up a pitch. “

“Me too, luv,” he grunted.

“Harder,” Stella urged. That was the only word she could form, rendered speechless. He did as asked, no longer holding back. With a long-drawn-out moan of his name, she came once more. Kyle groaned out his own release as Stella’s walls tightened around him, taking everything he was willing to give.

“So good, luv, you did so good,” Kyle encouraged with delicate whispers as they came down. He lowered himself down to kiss her, whispering soft praises as he heard her breathing steady. “How are you feelin’?”

“Tired,” Stella breathed into his lips. Kyle chuckled, planting a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth and slowly untangling himself from her.

“Wet naps?”

“Next to the speaker,” Stella answered softly. He found them quickly, going back toward Stella to clean her up. He took care of her in gentle strokes, watching as Stella recovered on the bed.

“Did you fall asleep on me?”

“Almost,” Stella mumbled. Kyle chuckled, planting a soft kiss on her thigh.

“Want one of us to bring you dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Stella answered. He straightened up, looking for water for her. It was a short walk to the med bay fridge, where he found a bottle for her.

“Luv, drink some water,” Kyle said softly. Stella groaned as she sat up, taking the bottle from his hands and drinking from it. “Thank you,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you, Kyle,” Stella said softly, smiling before taking another swig of water. He started to get dressed, keeping his eyes on the dazed female on the massage bed.

“Eat all your dinner and rest up.”

“I will,” Stella said, smiling. “You’re not going to tell me who’s coming in tomorrow?”

“Nope. Where’s the fun in that? Now that you’ve said yes to us, we’re goin’ to make it even more fun by keeping the mystery.”

“Can’t wait,” Stella grinned. Kyle walked over to her, tucking his fingers under her chin so she could look up at him. “This week is a fantasy come true.”

“Indeed,” Kyle said, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “Take it easy, alright?”

“Yes, Kyle,” Stella beamed. He smiled back at her as he walked over to the door, unlocked it, and left the med bay.

___________________________________________________________

Kyle stepped into the dining room to the entire team waiting for him. They all stared at him expectantly, eager to hear anything about how his afternoon had gone. Dinner was ready, various steaming plates were set out on the table, untouched.

“I told them she said yes,” Soap said quickly. “They don’t believe me.”

“You heard her?”

“Gods, yes,” Soap groaned. “I hate that it’s not my turn tomorrow.”

“Wait, Soap isn’t kidding?” Alejandro asked.

“No, he’s not. I told her to be as loud as she wanted, that you’d all know what that meant if you heard her,” Kyle answered. “She said yes.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price said in disbelief.

“Where is she now?” Ghost asked.

“Resting. She needs dinner,” Kyle answered. Simon immediately sprang to action, grabbing a plate and filling it with food. “Thanks, Ghost.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure she gets to bed,” he added, making sure he had enough. “I’ll be back later, save me some,” Simon said, quickly heading toward the med bay. Once he stood before the door, he knocked lightly.

“Come in,” Stella’s voice called out through the door. Simon carefully opened it with his free hand, admiring the dimly lit room and the soft music. He found her on the massage bed, relaxed. “Si,” she said softly, smiling.

“Gaz told us you said yes,” he said softly.

“I did,” she replied, slowly sitting up, clutching the blanket as she covered herself up with it. “You’re not going to tell me when you’re up?”

“No,” he chuckled. “We all promised to keep it a secret.”

“Jerk,” she giggled.

“Here, dinner,” Simon said, offering her the plate of food.

“Can you get me my shirt?”

“Of course,” Simon answered. He set the meal down at her desk, finding her discarded clothing items around the room. “Someone was eager.”

“Simon, it’s been years since the last time I had sex,” Stella scowled. He chuckled, giving her what she’d asked for.

“I’ll go get you more water,” he said, turning around to give her privacy to redress.

“Thank you,” Stella said. Simon turned around with a new bottle of water for her. “Are you going to keep me company while I eat?”

“Yes, and that you get to bed.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No, but we want to take care of you and make sure you rest,” he said softly, helping Stella off the massage bed so she could sit at her desk and eat. “Just like you do for us every day.”

“That’s something similar to what Kyle said earlier.”

“Because we all agree,” Simon said, removing his mask finally and watching her eat.

“I need to wash the sheets,” Stella said between bites.

“I’ll take care of it. You know I’m the one who sleeps the least.”

“Hopefully, you’ll be able to get some rest at some point this week.”

“I do too, star,” Simon said, gathering up the sheets. “I’m going to put this to wash and be right back.”

“Okay,” Stella said smiling as she kept eating. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Simon said, putting on his mask. “Finish that.”

“I will, Si,” Stella said, rolling her eyes.

“Good girl,” he said, noticing how a blush quickly built on her cheeks. “Figured you were one to enjoy praise,” he teased as he opened the door. Stella narrowed her gaze at him, growling slightly.

“Shut up.”

“You know you like the sound of my voice, dove.”

“It was one time.”

“You fell asleep to me reading you a book twice,” he teased her. “Once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern.”

“Fine,” Stella groaned. “I like the sound of your voice. Especially when it’s unobstructed.”

“Wait until you hear it in your ear praisin’ you for how good you take my cock.”

“Fuck, Si,” Stella groaned. He chuckled darkly as he left the med bay to start the load of laundry.

His turn couldn’t get here soon enough.

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