#so i think i personalized its painful moments and never thought of it as much from taylor's perspective herself

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 19)

masterlist

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A blood-orange sun hangs low in the sky.

You might think it ominous on any other day, but not this one. What more adversity could stand in your way? 

Instead of sharing a saddle with John, you ride the same horse that Graves rode out of town. Days spent on horseback have finally caught up to you, pain radiating up and down your legs, a soreness embedded deep in your inner thighs, the skin positively chafed from the constant friction. At least you no longer have the handcuffs digging painfully into your wrists, the metal cuffs long since unlocked using the key in Graves’ pocket and discarded, now lost some acres back for the coyotes and the hares to prod at and sniff. 

You drift in and out of conscious awareness, coming back into your right mind every mile or so, losing track of time along the way. Sometimes you blink and trees disappear out of sight, already ten miles back. Scouring the landscape for something familiar only to come up empty. 

Recent events lour over your conscience. It’s difficult not to let it get to you. So much has happened in such quick succession that part of you still thinks you’re dreaming in the abandoned shack with Graves sleeping just a few feet away. 

A distinct sound scrapes against the inner recesses of your mind and eardrum. If you were to look behind you, you’d find the source of it wrapped in a shroud and dragged behind John’s horse. Drying blood stains the fabric. The head, obscured under the fabric, jostles from side to side as it passes over rocks and undergrowth. 

It’s beyond you now though, the future shuttling forward at an unfathomable speed and taking you with it, willing or not. The world hurrying on to repeat its past mistakes. 

So you don’t look behind you. 

“Won’t be much longer,” your husband murmurs from beside you, speaking just loud enough for you to hear him over the influx of thoughts in your head, which rapidly empty out at the sound of his voice. 

“We can stop for a break after?” you ask, turning your head enough for your eyes to land on the hard, bristled line of his jaw. He nods. 

“Just gotta get this part out of the way.”

He says it so casually, like a bit of unpleasantness that has to be dealt with; no way around it. Unfortunately, a body isn’t something that can be just swept under the rug. No matter how much your muscles beg for a moment’s reprieve, you won’t get it until all the loose ends are tied up. 

“How do you know the land around here so well?” you ask as John leads the two of you deeper into the plains.

“The boys and I have been out here before. Grew up in this county anyway; been wanderin’ these parts since I was born.”

You can’t imagine John as a young boy, uncertain of his place in the world. He seems like someone who emerged from the womb ready-made, already able to skin a deer and build a bushcraft shelter by hand. But he must have been young at one point. 

Finally, he comes upon a suitable place to bury the body. 

Deep in the wilderness, he digs a shallow grave with the short shovel strapped to his horse, sweating up a storm before the hole is big enough to bury the body. You dismount your horse and wander off while John handles the burial. 

This is the part where you have to turn away and pretend it isn’t happening. You stave off the urge to plug your ears and close your eyes. Dogear any page in your life except this one. This is the only memory that you want to fade into obscurity, pretend that it never happened, that this was some bad dream that you only half-remember twenty years from now. 

You glance back only once to find John breathing heavily at the edge of the hole, having just hauled himself out. Sweat slicks his brow and drips down the side of his face near his temple, a dark flush spreading over his cheeks from exertion. Even his shirt is damp with sweat under the pits and around the collar. 

You force yourself to look away. Now is not the time for your libido to trouble you. 

Graves’ body lands with a dull thump when John rolls it into the makeshift grave. You bite your lip and let your eyelids slide shut. Then he starts the process of covering the body, shoveling the dirt back into the hole. It takes a while. An offer to help hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite make yourself say the words. 

A half hour later, it no longer matters, the hole covered until the only thing demarcating the grave is the layer of upturned soil, slightly darker than the dirt in the surrounding area.

“That’s it,” John announces, making his way back to you with the shovel slung over his shoulder. You can smell the ripe scent of sweat wafting off him even from a foot away. “Let’s head out; we’ll wanna make camp before it gets dark.”

You don’t answer. Not verbally anyway. The guilt almost makes it hard to breathe. In all your stupidity and poor decision-making, you’ve inadvertently made John an accomplice in your crimes; forced him, in fact, to commit one as heinous as the one that had started this whole debacle. 

You travel the next mile in relative silence, scouring the landscape for a neat patch of land to set up camp. The sun plummets towards the ground at a faster and faster pace until it’s tugged below the horizon, vanishing with a green flash. Then it’s too dangerous to keep going, the way back far too dark to keep traveling down. 

John builds a small fire after tying up the horses for the night. The temperature drops exponentially as the sky darkens, the cold sinking low to the ground. You help with gathering the kindling, mostly twigs and clumps of dry grass, then take the packs off both horses to use as makeshift seats by the fire, unrolling the sleeping bags as well. 

It comes as a relief to finally sit down after the fire is struck. Rest is a double edged sword though; the longer you sit with Graves’ old pack propping you up, the more the pain has time to sink its claws in deep. 

In the hours since he shot Graves, neither of you have spoken more than a few words to each other. You certainly haven’t brought it up. The memory of Graves revealing the truth of what you’d done back east to John looms over you. It’s inevitable that you’ll talk about it eventually though. It’s heavy in the atmosphere, almost oppressive; the weight of everything said and unsaid. You can’t take back what Graves revealed to John. At some point you’ll have to face it. 

At what point will you have to beg for forgiveness? It sits on the tip of your tongue. 

The small fire crackles in front of you. Red tongues of flames lick at the darkness, the light extending out in a circle around the two of you. You’re grateful for the warmth though, particularly after spending the previous night in the cold.  

“Nothing to eat, m’afraid,” he says apologetically, brow creasing. “I didn’t exactly pack before coming after you.”

You shake your head. “That’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway.”

In a few more hours, you might work up an appetite again, but for now, you couldn’t be further from it. All you want to do is lie down on your bed back home and sleep through to the next day. 

“Yeah,” John sighs. “Me neither.”

He picks up your hand and holds it in his for a time. It’s strange how such a small gesture has become such an immense comfort for you. You wish you could thread your fingers through his and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss all over, but you’re too tired for a gesture of that magnitude. 

When he lets go of your hand, it’s only to transfer it to your face. His thumb runs over your split lip, pulling away when you wince. “Looks like it’s healing on its own.”

“That’s good,” you mumble. “…It hurt a lot more yesterday.”

John’s nostrils flare. The fire reflects off his eyes in such a way that, for a moment, it almost looks like it’s coming from within him. “I’d kill him again if I could.”

Your stomach clenches at the ferocity behind his words. 

“You—you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” you croak. “Not when he was—” right, you don’t say. Right to haul you out of town by your hair and drag you back to the scene of the crime, back to pay for what you’d done. 

“Now I ain’t gonna hear you go spoutin’ that horseshit,” he growls, clasping you by the back of your neck and tugging you to his side. It’s so sudden that your butt skids across the ground, raking up a small mound of dirt with the weight of your body.

You look away, unable to meet his eyes even as he pulls you forward until you’re nearly nose to nose. “It’s not—”

“Yes, it is, darlin’. That shit weren’t none of your fault. You ain’t done a thing wrong by keeping yourself safe.” 

It’s almost hard to hear. It’s taken you months to scrub the dirt from your soul, which until recently was raw to the touch and pained you to even think back on. And the hopelessness. And the longing, the irreversibility of it; irreversible in the way that you couldn’t turn your pain inside out. You could never go back to the way things were because the only way out was to keep on trudging forward. 

Like rain in a drought, you’ve been missing someone’s mercy. You’ve been waiting for someone to come and forgive you for your sins; someone to absolve you of them. 

You lean forward, burying your face in his neck. Not making much of a sound except for a harsh exhale, your throat quavering with something unsaid. 

Then you grip him by the back of his shirt and pull him to the ground with you. 

Out in the open like this, John doesn’t dare remove your clothes, but he does reach beneath your dress to pull off your underclothes. He’s silent through it all, eyes fixed on yours. Never wavering or dropping your gaze. It’s intoxicating to be stared at with such a fierce intensity. Vaguely overwhelming, the sensation creeping up your chest and lodging in your throat. 

The light of the fire he built for the two of you flickers across his skin, illuminating his face in shades of orange and gold. 

He holds your gaze when he rucks the skirt of your dress up and crawls down the length of your body until his mouth is level with your center, slick already dripping from your sex. Your breathing goes haggard, anticipating his mouth before it’s suddenly there between your thighs, planting a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before dragging his lips over your sensitive skin until they brush your clit. Your mouth opens to a soundless gasp. Electrical impulses travel up your spine, your arching back following their trajectory. 

He pulls back to stare at your dripping hole. “Missed me, my love?” 

You’d answer if you could form words, but then you realize who he’s talking to and your mind goes blank. 

When he runs his tongue up the seam of your pussy, you jolt, legs slung over his shoulders kicking at the air. He eats you out with gusto, with reverence, sighing into your pussy that it’s been too long, that he’d worried himself nearly half to death over you. 

Rough hands hold you by your waist and pull you down onto his face. Long, crude licks of his tongue, rubbing the flat of it over your clit until you’re a roiling, twisting hotbed of pent up arousal. 

The urge to suppress your noises is almost overwhelming. When you twist your head from side to side, there’s nothing but miles of land; trees and shrubbery and a deep, impenetrable darkness. Not another person around for miles. It makes you shiver when you stare out into it. 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—” you gasp, chest getting tighter and tighter until you expect it to burst but it doesn’t. It stays all pent up, all itchy and scratchy and you can feel the sweat slicking the small of your back and the blood furiously rushing to your cheeks, heating you up from the inside out. Sweat-laden and flustered. 

Your toes curl in your boots, throat tightening up the closer it gets. All it takes to push you over the edge is John cupping his hands under your butt to tilt your hips up, licking you from hole to hole. The impertinence and thrill sends a rush through your body, the coil in your belly twisting and releasing, core pulsing around nothing. Your body gives a violent jolt when he gives your clit one last wet, suckling kiss.

“Are you comfortable like this, darlin’, or should I wait until we��re home?” John asks when he positions himself over you again, beard still wet with your desire and a big hand cupping the front of his trousers. You stare down at the hair dusting his knuckles and the bulge straining against his pants. 

The shadows make it seem even larger than usual. Your throat goes dry the longer you stare down at where he fists his length through his trousers.

“Darlin’?” he repeats, drawing your attention back up to his face.

“Oh?” you ask, cheeks heating. “I’m, um…I’m quite comfortable.”

It seems absurd to have such a conversation when your husband’s hand is reaching into his trousers to pull out his cock and fuck you with it, but the nervous tickle in your belly is far from unpleasant. 

He’s so careful with you, cognizant that your muscles are already sore and aching from days of being on the road and the abuse Graves put you through. Gentle hands maneuver your legs around his hips and move your hair from your face. Again your belly flips. 

Your grunt is involuntary when he first pushes in, walls stretching around the head of his cock. It hasn’t been long enough for the blunt intrusion to be painful, but it’s overwhelming all the same. You wince and grimace through it all. 

“Easy does it. You’re alright,” John shushes when you whimper, rough hand cupping your cheek. It sends a thrill down your spine, but doesn’t lessen the intensity. 

He stays like that for a time, hovering over you and stroking a thumb over your cheekbone until you relax around his girth, gradually finding your breath again. In and out; one after the other. When he pulls his hand away, it’s to plant his forearms on the ground beside your head and grind his hips forward, taking your breath away. 

“Oh Lord,” you wheeze, then brace your hands around his neck. 

“You’re doing great, darlin’. Just hold on; I’ve got ya.”

It’s nothing like the times before; your arms link around his neck and your breath goes shallow, hitching with every measured thrust. It’s too much and not enough. You feel windswept and battered, bruises smarting now that you’ve had time to feel them, but still you need more from him. 

He works himself into the wet flex of your pussy with slow, heavy thrusts. Taking his time. Not rushing it just yet because though the threat of you being taken from him still looms over his head, he’s sated his bloodlust. His reassurance now comes in the form of your legs spread to receive him and the fat head of his cock fitting snugly in you. 

The heels of your boots press firm against the flesh above his buttocks. Taking him this way with your clothes still on feels debaucherous, filthier than usual; like you were so desperate to have your husband inside you, that you couldn’t even be bothered to remove your garments. 

He must feel the way that thought heats you up because he rasps, “Need a lil somethin’, love?” 

Before you can even answer, he’s reached a hand down and tucked it between your thighs to strum the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex. 

“John—”

Your fingernails must dig into the back of his neck because he grunts. Serves him right, you think, digging your nails in all the harder when grinds a knuckle against your clit and you briefly see stars. 

You’re splintering down to the root, coming apart in his hands like clay; when he says your name, the darkness fades and for a moment, you’re in the light, a shaft of it haloing your face. Chasing it no matter how fast it runs. A hare in a snare, a shadow captured in the palm of your hand. 

It comes fluttering down from somewhere beyond sight. Gasped out in another voice, a truer voice. From the depths of you, true as stone and air. 

“I love you.”

Give it time and it’ll come naturally. Now, it comes as a gut punch. Even John stills over you when he hears the words, and you can feel the shudder that runs through him under your fingertips. There’s no time to sit and talk about it though, not with the frenzy that comes over him, blue eyes glazed over by a manic glint. 

He braces one hand on the top of your head and surges forward, so rough with you that your teeth clack together, eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Say it again,” John growls, leaning down until his mouth is right next to your ear. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Then it hits you. A wall of heat. Your belly rolling and cheeks burning, walls squeezing around John’s cock, tighter with every thrust. You yelp when he lifts himself off you to yank the skirt of your dress up higher and presses his hands to your inner thighs, spreading your legs wider for him. Bullies his cock into your channel even as you try to squeeze him out, pounding into you until the lurid torrent of words spilling out of his mouth go slurred and his release floods into you, his hips slapping against yours until he’s emptied the last of his spend into your womb. 

It’s a while before either of you can move after that. Your energy melts into the ground like rainwater, purifying the earth. Maybe life is already germinating beneath you, grass seedlings about to burst from the dirt, flower buds curled up in tight coils until they’re ready to bloom. 

Your hands shake when you lift one up to wipe the sweat from your face. 

When he finally pulls out of you, the feeling of his come leaking down your inner thighs makes you fussy. You lift your thighs just enough to let him pull your drawers back up before lying back down, no energy left in you to do more than that. You only scrunch your nose a little at the feeling of your combined juices already wetting the gusset.

Time seems to come apart and then piece back together. You roll over onto your side and nestle up against John’s chest, staring up at him wordlessly. His eyes stay shut for some time until he feels your stare on him and they peel open, the color of his irises barely discernible in the flickering light. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” he asks in a tone so devoid of accusation or condemnation that you’re almost thrown by it. He says it like it’s just another day, like something horrible and monumental didn’t just happen. 

It takes you a while to find the words. Even when you do, they come out jumbled and disjointed. “How long have you…—when did you find out?”

“‘Bout what happened back East?” he clarifies, blunt as usual. 

The question makes you swallow impulsively, anxiety secreting from you again. “Yes.”

John looks up into the dark sky, quiet for a spell. “Not until recently. The arrest warrant drifted across my desk probably around the time Graves first stopped by. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together after that—you showing up in a tizzy around the same time as the warrant was issued. General description matched as well.”

You feel a bit foolish in retrospect, certain that you were getting away with it all this time. 

“You know my name.”

“I do.”

“My real name.”

“In a manner of speaking. Got yourself a new last name since then though, didn’t you?”

Your lips pull up at the corners involuntarily. “Yes. I guess so.”

You can almost hear it now. The penultimate note of the overture writhing against convalescence like you might stay this way for a second longer. But it isn’t right to keep feeling the same old pain. At some point, it has to heal. 

“Hey,” John says, giving your shoulder a little shake to draw your attention back to him. The look in his eyes is serious. “This is as far as the story goes, alright?”

You stare up at him silently until you nod against his chest. 

“You’re my wife. End of story. The rest ain’t anyone’s business but ours.”

Off in the distance, an owl hoots, and its call hits your ear as a distant evocation to sleep. You press one last kiss to his chest before rolling off him, letting him put the fire out before the two of you turn in for the night, and then drawing a blanket over the both of you. 

And then, you go to sleep.

[amourtoken]

yes PLEASE write about quinn knocking you up and also please never stop writing smut i feel FERAL

I got a couple asks about this so let me roll them all into one here yall are horny unhinged individuals together now

Quinn is unfortunately insanely susceptible to baby fever. He can't help himself, the thought of having a little extended family to provide for is sweet enough on its own but getting there is what he's really been focused on recently. He cannot clear his mind of the idea at all and it's starting to effect every aspect of his life. His thoughts are always frenzied and his brain fuzzy, he can barely focus on the ice and you constantly catch him zoned out and have to draw his attention back to you. What's he even thinking about?

This all started after he saw you interacting with some kids at a charity event. He didn't think it'd be a personal attack on his psyche to see you leaning down to their level so they felt more included while you chatted about your days or whatever random thoughts of theirs that sprung to mind. They all seemed so happy in your presence and you've always just naturally been great with kids so it's no surprise to you, but Quinn instantaneously fell victim to the infectious thought process of parenthood.

all he's thought about for days is how pretty you'd look pregnant and how good of a parent you'd be. Would your kids have your smile? Your eyes? Hopefully they had your sweet personality at the very least. You two could be the overly supportive cheesy hockey parents when your kid got a little older too, if they took after him and wanted to play. Quinn would fall down these hour long rabbit holes in his own mind of what your future would look like with an addition to the family and it was becoming more and more of a necessity every day.

Eventually it gets to a point where he can't fucking contain it anymore and he lets the idea slip while he's got you pinned to the mattress below him.

Quinn's fingers are holding your hips tight enough to bruise while he's buried inside you, panting praises and explicit compliments against your neck in rhythm with his thrusts. He can't get the image of you all pretty and pregnant out of his brain at all, the only thing keeping him from it is a thin latex and a question really. He didn't wanna ruin the moment but it was out of his control at this point, the need overtaking critical thinking skills.

"Fuck- please let me put a baby in you- shit- p-please- c-can't stop thinkin' about it- fuck i need it so bad...'m sorry-"

His voice sounded so broken, moans and whines cutting through his words against his will. You had no idea he felt this way and fuck you wish he'd said something sooner because you've been going through the same misery he has. For the same reason. The same exact event that permeated his peace with the idea of kids with you was the one that had you dizzy thinking about him being a dad. Safe to say your communication skills were lacking during this cause both of you were afraid to ask but now that you're on the same page? You're in for it.

You respond enthusiastically, nodding quickly and immediately pleading for him to do just that. Quinn's chest fluttered at your whined pleas and as much as it pained him to pull out in the moment it was definitely worth it to sink back into you raw. He wanted this to last forever but the way you felt so fucking warm and wet around him was ultimately his undoing, much to his own protest. He didn't wanna finish without dragging you along either, his thrusts fell out of rhythm as he snaked a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, trying his best to take you with him.

"Shit- you're gonna be so pretty- fuck- god I'm so fuckin' lucky-"

Your nails sunk into his shoulders as you pulled him closer, legs shaking as you tipped off the edge of your orgasm with a whine of his name. He almost immediately followed you, hands gripping behind your knees to fold you in half under him, allowing him to sink deeper than before. Quinn's vision blurred with black spots and his voice pitched up into whiney pleas as he filled you up, finally getting what's plagued him for fucking weeks now. Doesn't matter if this was the time that did it or not, he was dead set on fucking you full of his cum over and over and over until you got the results you both wanted (and then some extra for good measure ofc)

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

A heart that hurts is a heart that works - Something Rotten sequel.

first part can be read here

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x afab!reader x Dark!Tess Servopoulos

Words count: 3829

Rating: Mature, absolutely NSFW and again, this shit is triggering. Please, read the tags carefully and if you're a minor don’t interact.

Tags/warning: This happens the morning immediately after the events of Something Rotten, pov second person, no use of y/n, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, heavy degradation, angst, smut, DUB CON/NON CON, reader is barely described, she has breasts and vagina, no mention of her skin tone, she doesn’t blush, she has hair but it’s not described, it is mentioned that Joel's clothes are too big for her (pics are just for aesthetic and don’t represent reader), the only thing is that reader's father died of lung cancer (like mine), depressive thoughts, as said in the first part: reader is held prisoner by Joel and Tess, on her leg is carved the word “pet” (Tess did it), use of a knife, groping, a large amount of bites, mention of wounds, mention of bruises, no kindness whatsoever towards reader, Joel and Tess are both EVIL, fingering (Tess receiving), oral (Tess receiving) spitting, nipples sucking and biting (it's not my ff if there is no attention towards nipples OKAY), unprotected p in v (both f receiving, wrap it up IRL), pussy slapping, cum eating, Joel comes on reader’s face, pissing, a little more scissoring, a little bit of chocking, squirting, brief insert of reader's thoughts in italics… I think it’s all 😅 If I notice I've forgotten something important I'll add it right away.

A/N: Title comes from a Placebo song called Bright Lights. It seemed right to continue with them since "Something Rotten" is also one of their songs. Anyway, I leave you the entire playlist that I listened to while I was writing both this and the first part and again thank you very much to those who recommended songs to me ♥️

There is something of my experience and pain in this so please be particularly kind. English is not my first language and I have no beta, I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy it, thank you so much to anyone who reads it.

[I started a tag list, if you want to be added let me know, I never tag people because I don't want to impose anything on anyone but if you like it I'm happy too ♥️ ]

Your mind is completely clouded. You open your eyes and for a moment you don’t remember where you are, you rub your eyes, feeling your aching body awaken, the pain of every joint coming back to you. You reach out and press a spot on your stiff neck, a stab of pain shooting up your brain like a gunshot and then sliding down your spine, making you grit your teeth to stifle a moan.

You shut your eyes as images of what happened flash before your eyes, a piercing pain taking over your head.

You don’t know how much time has passed but when you manage to sit up, biting the pain between your lips, you see a bright light coming in through the dirty window, a speck of dust stirring in the beam of light that illuminates the messy bed, the crumpled sheets and the two people lying on it. Tess is on her side, her arms folded, her hands resting on the pillow, near her head. There is always a kind of tension in her, you see it even when she is sleeping, in her huddled body that seems ready to attack and unleash its claws on anyone. She is wearing nothing but panties and Joel’s shirt left open, revealing the outline of her breasts. 

She should disgust you, but instead as soon as you see one of her nipples poking out from under her shirt salive pools into your mouth. You put a hand to your forehead, overwhelmed by yourself, by what you feel and by a shame that creeps up inside you and makes your temples throb.

This is so wrong. Yet you would like to lace your lips on that little button and suck it, if only she would let you do it, if only she would let you lie next to her gently, allowing you to be the good pet she expects you to be.

Shifting your gaze to Joel doesn't help soothe your twisted mind. He’s on the other side, lying on his back, in his boxers, your eyes wander on the defined muscles on his chest, the softness of his belly, and a strip of sunlight hitting his abdomen highlighting hair leading to his groin. 

He seems carved out of a block of marble, skimmed by scars, exuding power and sex, the tips of your fingers graze your swollen lips and you still feel his taste, the weight of his cock on your tongue, his relentless thrusts, his hungry eyes on you. 

They must have fallen asleep, which gave you some respite even if you don’t feel rested at all.

You look at your thigh and it's still there, the pulsing sign that you should leave, just run while you can, sneak out of this place quietly and look for somewhere to hide. But you feel like a mouse in a cage, your body not moving an inch. You’re still untied; it would take nothing to reach the door and close it behind you. But what if they woke up? If they felt the bed lighten with your weight? You know they'd have you back in an instant. 

Your brain, you can't decide whether very stupidly or very wisely, thinks that it is better not to make any risky moves to stay alive. 

Helpless and desperate you lie back on the bed staring at the ceiling, the silence broken only by Joel's soft snoring.

Your arms spread across the bed as you sink into your thoughts and your fingers casually graze the knife abandoned on the sheets. The coldness of the blade sends a chill down your spine.

You have to do something for yourself. At least try. You cannot be so spineless. You move one leg off the bed, your eyes fixed on your captors, seeming not to notice anything so you move the other leg as well, letting yourself slide cautiously along the edge of the bed, finally resting both feet on the floor. You pick up the closest garment you can find on the ground, it's a Joel T-shirt, wide and long enough to cover your butt. You just have to get up, you can do it. Leaning your weight on your legs feeling your knees crack in the effort, you wonder what in your body is not sore. You are on your feet. Joel and Tess are motionless in the same position as before. You walk on the floor resting your toe and then your heel, silent and terrified like a prey trying to evade before falling into the lion's jaws, hoping that the wood will not creak under your gait. You reach for the door. You almost make it. Just rest your hand on the handle and lower it. A moment and you're out of here. As soon as your hand touches the cold metal you hear a voice behind you, “Where do you think you're going?” 

You feel your heart falling out of your chest, freezing where you are, your eyes at the door, your breath getting heavy.

“Turn around”

You do it slowly, praying you don't feel a blow immediately afterward. Joel is standing in front of you. “Please” your voice is a barely audible whisper ”please.”

Joel reaches out, grabs you by the wrist “no fucking way” 

He doesn't add anything more, he takes you back to the bed, forcibly lays you down and lies on top of you. His eyes look at you fiercely, he drops down next to your ear “maybe I was wrong about you, you're not the good pet I thought you were. Let me teach you your priorities straight“ he growls, his voice low, sharp. 

His body weighs down on you, completely overpowering you, his legs blocking yours, his hands resting on the sheets on either side of your face. 

"I give you credit for that. You were brave to think you could sneak away. But also incredibly stupid." His voice vibrates close to your ear, it is eerily calm and controlled, sounding as if it came from the darkest part of him, straight from his gut.

A lump rises from the pit of your stomach to your throat, sickening. "I'm sorry," you stammer, Joel's eyes lighting up with that sinister hue you now know like the back of your hand. 

He retrieves the knife from above the bed and places the blade under the fabric of the T-shirt, cutting through the sleeves and tearing it from the neck to the hem, reducing it to a shred of fabric lying beneath you. You tremble when the icy blade touches your skin.

His boxer-covered erection presses against your thigh, against your wound. 

Again you wonder what substance your mind is now made of because feeling him against you, demanding, claiming your body, makes your pleasure slide down your legs. You can feel it on your skin, a shiver, a wetness, a trickle of you leaving you to become his. You mold under him, relaxing your muscles, ceasing to resist, submitting to his stern eyes nailing you to the bed. 

He takes your hands and intertwines them possessively with his own as his legs push between yours, forcefully spreading them apart.

He crawls on you like a rabid dog, inhaling your scent on your neck, down to your sternum, reaching your breast, licking the skin above your ribcage “You were Robert's, weren't you?” 

His teeth close on one of your nipples, biting it, your back arches pushing against his mouth, demanding more. “This? It's mine now.” he whispers in a rough voice ‘This is mine too.’ he adds, twisting the other nipple, he moves one hand to your mound, grabbing it ”What about this wet pussy? She's mine too. I own you now. Make sure you don’t forget that, you little cock slave”

And you feel it again. The desire coursing down your body, clinging to your nerves, flowing into the middle of your thighs. 

It lingers on you deeply. And you’re pleading at that. Before you sense your own voice saying it, like it doesn’t belong to you, coming out of someone’s else body “Please” you babble “please, more” as he run a single finger through your folds.

Everyone you knew died. Every person you loved is gone, ruined by the spreading epidemic. Except your father, who passed away a few years before the pandemic broke out, obliterated by lung cancer. You still remember his jagged, exhausted breathing getting more and more labored, small and thin, until it died out completely. You still remember the smell of the hospital room, the dimness, your gripped heart, your silent tears. It was something you never wanted to see, the moment when death takes someone.  It stays inside, digs deep into you, rattles in the walls of your brain until one day it subsides and remains a creeping awareness you have to live with. A brick in your pocket that will forever weigh of absence, of pain, of lack.

And when you thought maybe you could make it, one day when the brick seemed lighter, pandemic came and your mother turned into a monster. From a fragile woman, still bent by your father's absence, to a ferocious beast with bloodshot eyes that tried to break your neck.

You had had to tear it down yourself, with your own strength, that thing your mother had turned into. And you couldn't explain it for days, or how you had done it, or what had happened. People were running around terrified, not knowing where to take refuge, not knowing if it would ever end. Until they came and loaded you onto trucks, promising to escort you to a safe area. What you were not told was that there was no solution, for some of you there was not even a place in the QZ. The epidemic took away not only the people you cared about but also your dreams, every hope you had for your future, every plan to become a good teacher, to accompany young minds in creating a better world. There is nothing left to create, only destruction.

You could have offered yourself as a teacher in the Qz but you had decided not to bow to a system that spread only government propaganda, instilling in kids that there was nothing else to believe in but FEDRA. 

And even in the face of desperation the cruelty had not stopped, some soldiers had tried to take you at night, traumatized and without strength, you had been saved only by the good heart of one of your neighbors who had defended you. You had jumped out of the truck, along with him and some other people, looking for an alternative that would never come. They had fallen like skittles, one after another. You were tired of seeing it, the cold hand of death reaching out to everyone around you. 

Your heart still aches horribly, but after all, a heart that hurts is a heart that works. And you're still alive. 

He takes the finger away and shoves it in his mouth, enjoying the taste of you and then he’s close to your ear again grazing you with his beard and graveling “I knew you were a little slut,” Joel's heavy breath warms your skin, driving your being back into your body. “When I'm done with you you'll want nothing more than to be my brainless whore”

You’re bucking your hips against him, mindlessly, while he takes your body with his mouth and hands, furiously licking, biting and groping your flesh, moving impatiently over you on the bed and waking Tess up. She takes a few seconds to focus, abruptly recovered from a deep sleep, but then you hear her dry voice, “oh, are you having fun without me?” 

Joel does not tell her that you tried to escape. which in itself is a miracle for you. He turns to her just a moment, leaving your nipple with a loud pop .

“Come” he tells her, and it's almost sweet. Almost. Tess comes crawling up on the bed like a feline and looks down at you, smiling cruelly. 

“Lie on top of her, make sure this bitch doesn't move” Tess nods, he makes room for her, and she crushes you with all her weight, her scarred back against your tits, as if you were a mat, clinging to your arms as Joel watches the scene smugly "Quite a picture" he growls.

He pulls down Tess's panties, tossing them aside. He does the same with his boxers.  “This is exactly what I want. Two pretty cunts all for me” 

He stoops to observe you both, his eyes roaming your sexes, his thumb touching you first, a creamy river in between your folds, and then Tess. She snorts “will you hurry up?”

“mmm you're not wet enough honey, but we can fix that”

“Honey”, you think he is the only person who can call Tess that. Anyone else would be out of balls in a heartbeat. 

He buries his face in her cunt and you feel Tess stiffen on top of you, her whole body reacting to the first touch of Joel's tongue. You seem to catch a glimpse of submerged fragility behind all that violence and resentment she always displays.

She grips your wrists in a vice as her hips rise toward Joel and a low, deep moan escapes from her throat. 

Joel's fingers run hard and calloused over your folds, collecting what drips from you and spreading it over Tess's pussy, mixing your essences, then returning to lick her. And you can feel her, crumbling on top of you, conceding willingly, every muscle in her asking for more.

Each lapping of Joel's tongue on her vibrates over your body like a wave, Tess's butt sliding over your folds, crawling over your clit, giving you reflex stimulation.

“Mmmm just like that, baby, that’s fucking good” 

She whines so sweetly under his ministration, an undertone so vulnerable and tender in her voice you almost think she turned into another person. And you are in the front row watching this, a silent witness to the other Tess, the one who still has a shred of humanity hidden within her.

It’s unique, you think, how sex with the right person, a person we care about, a person we share a path with, makes us. Defenseless, no mask to wear against the world. Even Tess, perhaps the coldest woman you’ve ever met. 

“Nice and drippy” Joel murmurs, nuzzling at Tess’s cunt “fucking gorgeous” 

He dips his nose in there, moving through her folds up to her clits, brushing the tip over it. “You smell so good, babe, such an nice mess for me to feast on” 

“Fuck” Tess gasps “just fuck me” 

“Yeah baby, I’m going to stretch you both so damn right” 

Tess rolls her eyes in twisted need, impatient like the bossy woman she still is and you whine like the shy mess that you are. 

So different and yet ready for the same cock. 

You noticed the way Joel’s voice soften when he speaks to Tess, the intimacy between them is palpable, in this moment you’re just an appendage. 

You want that desperately, belong to someone, to him, to her, to feel his voice and his whole body going unshielded for you. 

Joel spits into his palm and takes his cock in his fist, pumping it and then tapping the tip on her cunt, once, twice, three times, rubbing it on her folds, lubricating it with her juices, before getting it all the way inside her. Tess's body arches so desperately over yours, merging with Joel's as he begins to thrust inside her.

She thrashes on top of you, clinging to your forearms, pushing you back against the mattress, her hips swaying over yours again giving secondhand attention to your clit, now so swollen and needy that each thrust you emit a moan in sync with her, shyly participating in her pleasure. You bend your neck slightly to one side to look at Joel standing before you, bronze and sculptural, a cruel god who leaves you breathless. His chest glistens in the dim sunlight streaming in through the window, revealing tiny droplets of sweat beading on him, a grin painted on his face, brows furrowed, lost in Tess's wet walls, focused on pounding on her special spot again and again.

“You like that huh? You like this cock splitting you, yeah, I know you do, fuck you’re so drenched I could take a bath in it, all slippery and warm...mmm baby, just like that. Take it.”

He rests a hand on her belly to hold her more firmly, a sense of possession different from that manifested with you, purer and deeper, made up of silent, recurring gestures between them. It's as if you feel it all the way down into your stomach as he sinks into her, the forced closeness making you almost delirious, sensitive and wanting.

Tess is almost at her peak, sliding on you now unceasingly, her back kneading your breasts, up and down, your nipples impossibly hard against her skin, she stammers "there- there- I'm almost there- oh fuck"

"Not yet, baby, hold it back" he challenges her and she growls in disappointment and frustration, as he comes out of her. Joel brushes against you "it's time to put this slut in her place. You want it huh?" he roars as he looks at you "I can see it from here, you're flowing like a fucking river, clenching around nothing like a whore” 

His eyes sparkle with evil. He spits on your cunt, a glob of saliva right on your clit. He spreads it quickly over your entrance and thrusts into you unceremoniously, all the way down, in one breath-breaking stroke. "You're full now huh? Clench around my shaft, bitch” 

You feel your walls strangle his cock, eager to hold him inside, to belong to him, to be broken through. "Yes" you moan, not even sure why you had tried to run away from this anymore. Tess wouldn't even need to hold you with her whole body but you'll never say it, the way she bounces on top of you drives you crazy. You are back on the scene now, eager, drunk with a dark, all-consuming desire burning in your veins.

He grips your hips hard, digging his fingers into your thighs, going out and back in you harder, deeper each time, using your cunt as his personal toy, beating on your cervix as if he were to fill it with bruises. And you don't care, welcoming each thrust as if it were the last thing you will ever receive.

Your mouth proceeds alone, bellowing and wailing each moan like an off-key song you can't stop singing, irrepressible, obscene, feverish.

"You're tight for a whore, pet, but don't worry, I'll take care of it." Joel grunts, Tess echoes you, her harsh voice protesting uselessly to let her finish, her legs wrap around Joel's waist claiming him but he is focused on ruining you now with the cruel and unrelenting force he has not reserved for her.

Her nails sink into the skin of your arms, you feel them barely disconcerted by Joel's stabs but a tiny part of your brain knows they will leave more marks on you. 

There is nothing gentle about it, no attention, no care, just animalistic thrusts that make your body shake like an earthquake. 

You are less, obviously less, but you are still something.

Tess turns on you, looking into your eyes, lowering a hand to your clit, rubbing it furiously and then colliding it with her own, clit against clit, pressed together in sloppy kissing, hips rocking back and forth, sliding up to the point where Joel joins obscenely with you, seeking on her own the finish Joel has not yet given her by using your body.

“Oh fuck, yes,” she screeches, "here we go little slut, give it all to me" biting your skin on the marks Joel left, on your neck, on your tits, sucking your nipples between her lips, unrestrained. She's a wild amazon riding you, untamed, fierce and mean, teeth, tongue and hips demanding no permission and taking from your body what they want. 

And then again her hand descends between you to rub her clit as her knuckles press against yours, squirting letting out a guttural sound, flooding you, Joel's cock and the sheets. 

Joel growls at the vision “oh that’s fucking right, babe, yeah spurt all over me, FUCK, so good”

And you lose yourself, your sanity flying out the window with your attempts to escape, you are caged by Tess's body, hammered by Joel's cock, you feel their eyes on you looking fiercely, them calling you their slut again and again, that's all you can do. 

Tess pulls away from you, Joel holds you firmly by the hips, his face contorts into a grimace, he bites his lower lip as he thrusts himself possessively into you, reaches down and puts a hand around your neck, squeezing your pulse point, smiling cruelly as your air diminishes and your mind becomes rarefied “keep it up slut, milk me” and she scolds him “you can't cum inside her”.

“Fuck” he snorts "you're right". The grip on your neck loosens and you gasp, panting hard, trying to regain oxygen.

Joel slaps your pussy hard with his hand open, ordering: “on your knees, pet.”

You sit complacently on your lap on the bed, uncertain of what he wants to do. Tess is at your side, sneering. 

“Stick out your tongue for me.” He says harshly, Tess's hand bends your back, making you squat, waiting. 

“Good kitten” Joel grunts stroking his cock up and down, the angry red tip aimed at you. You don't realize it in time that long, thick, streaks of cum hit your face, your mouth, slide down your chin. You close your eyes just a moment before you feel his semen hit your eyelashes and run thickly down your cheek.

“Mmm now you look just like a proper slut” Tess giggles wickedly, then pauses "In fact no, we can do better". She grabs you by the arm, drags you naked as a maggot into the bathroom, and gets you on your knees inside the tub. “Hold still” she barks at you. You close your eyes, trembling, not knowing what to expect, until you feel something warm hit your forehead, run down your face, partially wash the cum off. An acrid, pungent smell makes its way into your nostrils. As soon as it reaches your lips you realize. 

You open your eyes, clouded by Tess's piss, her degrading gaze penetrating your bones along with Joel's laughter, standing in the bathroom enjoying the show. 

“Now you're perfect.”

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape , @baronessvonglitter

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[septembersghost]

"it's getting dark, and it's all too quiet, and i can't trust anything now" is the raw center of speak now, but somehow we didn't realize it until we all heard wcs twelve years later...all of speak now is haunted

[thebigqueer]

Your breakup really really reminds me of my first (and only) wlw relationship/breakup everything you're saying hits home a lot. You will get through it but tbh it's so hard to heal and it still grinds my gears when I think about her and how we broke up. Idk if that helps but I understand what you're going though

YEAH MAN ITS TOUGH OUT HERE FR!!! its not my first queer relationship but like something about this is genuilnely the most world-shattering romantic experience ive had cuz we went into this soooo head over heels for each other like we were literally moving SO fast. and at the time i was like is it ok for us to even be moving this fast (probs tmi but we were literally making out shirtless by like 2nd time we even made out) (probs not a big deal to most people but i experienced a LOT of new things with her that id never experienced befoer & the fact that i was so WILLING to do it so fast was what surprised me the most) but then i was like okk whateverrr i really like how fast we're moving. and i was like 'damn if were moving this fast & if im feeling so good it has to end soon right like theres no way life is going to let me just be happy w this' and then i was like 'no elts not think about it' and then what do you know 5 months later she brekas up w me. and neither of us did anything wrong but it was so random??? like i dont understand how one moment shes telling me how excited she is to spend the entire semester with me and then literally 36 hours later tell me shes not feeling an emotional connection but wont even give us the chance to work it out. i know she also broke it off for personal reasons but its like... this was something we could have TRIED to work out you know!!! maybe it wouldnt have worked in the end but literally nothing felt off to me at all & if id known she was feeling this way i wouldve done my best to make things better. the entire breakup was so sudden and honestly im really not mad at her because i know how nerve-wracking it is to be in your first relationship. i think its just that im really dispapointed she gave up on us so easily you know??? didnt even give us a chance to figure it out

[yongseungkim]

.

[fvsm4x]

#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru]

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , dark themes , slightly geto suguru x female reader , no curses au.

— WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

NEXT

„I think we should break up.“

Gojo’s words hung in the air, as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. You desperately tried to maintain your composure, not wanting to show Gojo just how deeply his words had wounded you.

“Why? What happened?“ You managed to ask, your voice trembling.

Gojo’s gaze softened, but his eyes held a distant look, as if his mind was already elsewhere. “I’ve found someone else,” he admitted, his words like a dagger to your fragile heart.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfed your thoughts. Insecurity, confusion, and a deep sense of betrayal washed over you. You had always known Gojo was popular, surrounded by women who seemed to possess an otherworldly beauty that you could only dream of. But you had hoped that your connection would be strong enough to withstand any external temptations.

As tears welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t help but question your own worth. Gojo had been your beacon of light, the one who had brought joy and stability into your chaotic world. You had believed that your love was strong enough to overcome any obstacles.

But now, faced with the harsh reality of Gojo’s confession, your insecurities resurfaced with a vengeance.

How could Gojo have led you on, making you believe that your love was real, only to discard you so easily for someone else?

But despite the storm of emotions raging within you, you knew that you had to find the strength to let Gojo go. You couldn’t force someone to love you, no matter how much you wanted to.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears streaming down your face, you whispered, “If that’s what you truly want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

You wiped away your tears and caught Gojo’s gaze. His eyes were filled with regret and sadness, and you could see the pain he felt in his expression. It was as if he realized the gravity of his decision and the hurt he had caused you.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. “I never wanted to hurt you. It’s not about your worth or how you compare to anyone else. It’s about me and my own shortcomings.”

You looked at him, surprised by his words.

“I understand,” you replied softly, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “I know I can’t change your feelings or make you stay. I’ll start packing my things so you can have your apartment back.”

As you rose from the plush couch, your footsteps echoed through the spacious apartment, the sound muffled by the thick carpet beneath your feet. With a heavy heart, you made your way to the bedroom you had once shared with Gojo. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the impending change that would soon occur.

You opened the grand closet, its ornate doors revealing a collection of clothes and personal belongings. The air was filled with a bittersweet nostalgia as you carefully selected each item, their presence a testament to the love and happiness you had once shared. The room seemed to whisper your name, its walls bearing witness to the countless moments of joy and intimacy that had unfolded within its confines.

As you held each cherished possession in your hands, memories flooded your mind like a river. The soft touch of Gojo's hand, the warmth of his embrace, and the laughter that had once filled the room. Each item carried a weight of emotions, a reminder of the love you had believed to be unbreakable.

Gojo, sitting on the edge of the bed, watched you with a pained expression. The reality of the situation seemed to settle in, and he realized the depth of the connection he was severing. The room felt colder, emotions hanging thick in the air.

As you folded your clothes and placed them in a suitcase, Gojo finally spoke again, his voice carrying a tinge of regret. "I never wanted it to come to this, Y/n. You deserve happiness, and I hope you find it even if it's without me."

His words lingered, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the end. The room, once filled with shared laughter and intimate moments, now felt like a haunting memory. The pain was palpable, and you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever subside.

As you zipped up your suitcase, Gojo approached, his hand hesitating in the air as if unsure whether to touch you.

He gently brushed away a tear that rolled down your cheek.

"I'm truly sorry," he murmured,

With your suitcase in hand, you stood near the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been your shared sanctuary. It was a goodbye to not only Gojo but also to the dreams you had woven together.

As you walked out, Gojo remained in the room, the emptiness echoing the void left by the shattered relationship. The door closed behind you, sealing the end of a chapter that had once promised forever.

-

In the days that followed, the task of finding a new place to call home became increasingly overwhelming. The once vibrant city, which had once been a source of shared dreams and promises, now seemed indifferent to your struggles. Each apartment viewing brought with it a fresh wave of emotions, serving as a painful reminder of the life you had envisioned with Gojo.

In the midst of this turmoil, old habits resurfaced. You found yourself reaching for cigarettes and turning to alcohol as a means of coping.

It was disheartening, as you had believed that these vices were behind you after Gojo entered your life and seemingly fixed all your problems. But now, they have reappeared, threatening to consume you once again.

What made matters worse was the lack of support you had. There were no parents to lean on, no friends to turn to for help. You were left to navigate this challenging situation all on your own, starting from scratch.

Before meeting Gojo, you had worked countless jobs to pay your bills and support your studies, scraping by with whatever little money you had.

The weight of it all was taking its toll on you. You felt yourself falling apart, the stress and uncertainty chipping away at your resolve.

But then, Gojo appeared, and your life took an unexpected turn. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring the two of you together. The first time you laid eyes on him was when you were working as a waitress at a cozy bakery. As he walked in, time seemed to stand still. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his striking features.

His vibrant blue eyes, reminiscent of a clear summer sky, held a depth that drew you in. His snow-white hair and lashes added an ethereal touch to his already captivating appearance. And when he smiled, it was as if the whole room lit up with warmth and charm. You were instantly captivated by his presence, unable to tear your gaze away.

To your surprise, Gojo noticed your lingering glances and, with a confident stride, approached the counter where you were working. He invited you to join him, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend more time with this enigmatic man. As you sat together, indulging in delectable desserts, the hours seemed to melt away in a blur of laughter and shared stories.

Days turned into weeks, and Gojo became a regular at the bakery, always seeking your company. The two of you would engage in deep conversations that spanned a wide range of topics, from the trivial to the profound. Each interaction only deepened your connection, and before you knew it, you found yourself falling for him.

However, amidst the blossoming romance, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. You couldn’t help but notice the parade of women that seemed to surround Gojo. He would visit the bakery at least twice a week, each time accompanied by a different woman. They would engage in affectionate displays, acting as if they were a couple.

As you observed these interactions, a wave of insecurity washed over you. Comparisons became inevitable, and you couldn’t help but feel inadequate in comparison to these stunning women. Their flawless skin, plump breasts, and alluring curves seemed to highlight your own perceived shortcomings. Their beauty was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever measure up.

But despite these doubts, Gojo continued to seek your company, showing genuine interest in your thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. His actions spoke louder than words, and you began to question your own self-doubt. Perhaps there was more to this connection than meets the eye.

Maybe, just maybe, Gojo saw something in you that went beyond physical appearances.

Motivated by this newfound hope, you made a conscious effort to break free from your bad habits. Weeks turned into months, and Gojo continued to visit the bakery every day just to see you.

However, one day, something special happened. Gojo waited patiently for you to finish your shift and then walked you back to the motel where you were staying. It was during this walk that he truly realized how difficult your life actually was.

Seeing you work tirelessly, with dark circles under your eyes and wearing the same clothes day after day, Gojo couldn’t bear to see you living in such difficult conditions. He noticed the presence of alcohol and cigarettes in your room and insisted that you stay with him instead. He wanted to provide you with a better life, free from the struggles you had been facing.

And so, you took up Gojo’s offer and moved in with him.

And that's when you became a couple.

But after two years of being in a relationship with Gojo, he found someone else. The person who used to hold you in his arms, whisper sweet words of love, and make you feel like the most important person in his life was now directing those affectionate gestures towards someone else.

You didn’t want to let him go. The thought of losing him was devastating. However, you also understood that you couldn’t force him to stay with you if his heart was no longer fully committed. Questions swirled in your mind. Did you do something wrong? Were you not exciting enough for him anymore? Was there something else that led him to find someone new?

Despite the heartache, one thing remained certain- your love for Gojo would never fade. The pain of knowing that he loved someone else, someone who wasn’t you, was excruciating. No one could ever replace the way Gojo had changed you, the way he had touched your heart and made you feel alive.

You sat alone in the dimly lit motel room, a bottle of liquor in hand, you sought solace in the numbing effects of alcohol. The pain in your heart seemed unbearable, and you hoped that drowning your sorrows would provide temporary relief.

The room felt suffocating. Each sip of the bitter liquid seemed to momentarily wash away the ache, but deep down, you knew it was only a temporary escape. The truth remained that Gojo had moved on, and you were left grappling with the shattered pieces of your heart.

With a heavy sigh, you placed the half-empty bottle on the grimy nightstand and slowly rose from the disheveled bed. Your footsteps carried you towards the suitcase, which stood dutifully beside a small table, as you rummaged through its contents in search of something comfortable to wear for the night. The weight of your emotions bore down on you, causing you to push up your hoodie, removing it with a forceful toss onto the nearby chair, as you attempted to regain control over your tears.

The question echoed in your mind once again, piercing through the haze of confusion and hurt. How could he do this to you? The betrayal felt like a knife twisting in your heart, leaving you gasping for air amidst the waves of anguish.

You made your way towards the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, a vulnerable and exposed version of yourself. The longer you gazed upon your topless form, the deeper the sadness seeped into your being. Your hand instinctively reached out, fingers grazing the surface of your bare stomach, as if trying to grasp the weight.

Could it be that your weight gain was the reason behind his abandonment? Did he no longer desire to be with you because of the changes in your body? The thought gnawed at your self-esteem, fueling the belief that the girl he now chose to be with possessed a flat stomach, a flawless figure, and enviable curves. Qualities that you, in your own eyes, did not possess.

Feeling the ache in your stomach intensify, you released your grip and turned your attention back to the task at hand. Pulling out a set of comfortable pajamas from your suitcase, you quickly changed into them, hoping that the soft fabric would provide some comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay down on the bed, the worn-out mattress offering little respite, your mind raced with thoughts of the uncertain future that lay before you. The realization hit hard – you would have to find a job, and fast. The fear of being kicked out of the motel, with nowhere else to go, loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind began to form a plan. You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion finally settling upon you.

-

Days turned into nights, and nights into days as you tirelessly searched for a job. The motel room became a temporary refuge, a place where you could rest your weary body and gather your thoughts before facing the world again. And then, finally, your efforts paid off.

You received a call from the bakery where you had once worked, offering you a position. Excitement and relief flooded through you as you accepted the job. It was a familiar place,

The first day back at the bakery was filled with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. As you stepped through the familiar doors, the scent of freshly baked bread enveloped you. The warm smiles and greetings from your former colleagues made you feel instantly welcome, as if you had never left.

You returned to your old position as a waitress and memories of Gojo lingered in the back of your mind. It had been a while since you had seen him, and you had made peace with the fact that he no longer wanted anything to do with you.

You let out a sigh as you walked over to the table where some guests were seated. Taking their orders, you jotted them down on a small notepad and headed towards the counter to place it.

As you turned around, the door opened, and there stood Gojo Satoru, looking as charming as ever. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a smile instantly spread across his face. He waved at you, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

Beside Gojo stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman, exuding confidence and radiating charm. It was clear why Gojo was drawn to her, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

With a polite smile, you excused yourself and walked away, seeking solace in the different side of the bakery. Your heart raced as you tried to process the unexpected encounter. The memories of your past relationship flooded back, bringing with them a whirlwind of emotions.

In the safety of the different side, away from prying eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

As you continued your work, serving customers and attending to their needs, you found solace in the routine. The hustle and bustle of the bakery provided a distraction, allowing you to momentarily forget the turmoil that Gojo’s presence had stirred within you.

But deep down, you knew that healing would take time. The wounds were still fresh, and seeing Gojo with someone new had reopened them. Yet, you refused to let it define you.

As you stood behind the counter, your eyes scanned the room, searching for any customer in need of your assistance. However, it seemed that everyone was content, engrossed in their conversations and meals. Your gaze involuntarily shifted towards the table where Gojo sat with his new girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but observe the way Gojo’s eyes sparkled with adoration as he looked at her. The way his face lit up with a blush whenever she smiled at him was a sight you had never witnessed before. It was as if he saw her as a goddess, someone worthy of his utmost devotion and affection.

A pang of jealousy washed over you as you compared Gojo’s current demeanor with how he had looked at you in the past. His eyes had never held that same lovesick gaze when he was with you. It was a bitter realization that he had never regarded you in the same way he now regarded this new woman.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it was about her that captivated Gojo so completely. Was it her radiant smile, her confident aura, or perhaps something deeper that you couldn’t comprehend? Whatever it was, it was clear that Gojo had found someone who made his heart race and his eyes shine with love.

As you continued to observe them from a distance, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Part of you longed for Gojo to look at you with the same intensity, to make you feel like the center of his universe. But another part of you knew that it was time to let go, to accept that Gojo had moved on and found happiness elsewhere.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention back to your duties, reminding yourself that your worth was not defined by Gojo’s affections.

You carefully balanced the two deserts and the cup of hot chocolate on your tray, making sure everything was secure. Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly glanced at the table number where this order was meant to be served. Without looking up, you started walking towards the designated table, unaware of the impending collision.

Just as you were about to lift your gaze, your body collided with someone, causing your grip on the tray to loosen. The board slipped from your hands, and the cup of hot chocolate tumbled through the air, its contents splattering onto the person you had unintentionally crashed into.

Your eyes widened in shock, and panic surged through your veins as you realized the gravity of the situation. You quickly raised your gaze, meeting the eyes of the person you had accidentally drenched with hot chocolate. And in that moment, your whole world seemed to crumble around you.

It was her. The woman for whom Gojo had left you. The same woman who had stolen his heart and shattered yours in the process. The sight of her standing before you, her face contorted in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks, was like a knife to your heart.

She hissed in pain as the scalding hot chocolate made contact with her skin, desperately trying to wipe away the sticky liquid that clung to her. Your hands trembled as you reached for tissues from a nearby table, desperately attempting to alleviate the discomfort you had caused.

But just as you were about to wipe away the hot chocolate, a forceful hand slapped yours away, taking over the task of cleaning the girl's skin. Startled, you looked up and saw Gojo, his face contorted with fury. His eyebrows knitted together as he witnessed the tears streaming down the girl's face, his protective instincts kicking in.

You stood there, next to Gojo, your voice barely audible as you muttered apologies, trying to explain that it was an accident. But Gojo's anger seemed to drown out your words. He finished wiping away the hot chocolate from the girl's skin and pulled her into his arms, shielding her from any further harm. His gaze shifted towards you, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and rage.

"Why would you do that?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the air. His words pierced through your heart, intensifying the guilt that already weighed heavily upon you. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the pain of betrayal mingling with the anger. But you couldn't find the words to defend yourself, knowing deep down that there was no justification for your actions.

„It was an accident-“

He took a deep breath,"Save it, I know why you did it.“

„Just because I found someone else and that I’m happy with them doesn’t mean that you’ll get to hurt them out of jealousy!“ he spoke

„I thought you were better than that," he said. The girl, still in his arms, chimed in, her voice filled with anger. "Call your manager, you need to be fired!"

Gojo's gaze shifted back to you, his eyes searching for an explanation. The weight of his disappointment and the girl's demand for your termination bore down on you. Panic set in as you realized the implications of losing your job. You couldn't afford to be fired; you needed the money to support yourself.

Desperation filled your voice as you pleaded with Gojo, "Please, don't ask for my manager. It was just an accident. I need this job, I can't afford to lose it." Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to convey the sincerity of your plea. You knew you had made a mistake, but it was one born out of carelessness, not malice.

You instinctively grabbed Gojos' hand,“Please-!“ you begged, but your hand only got slapped away by the woman in his arms.

„And now you go touching someone’s boyfriend? What‘s wrong with you!“ the girl shouted as she slapped you.

Your head turned to the side from the force of the slap, a surge of pain radiated through your cheek. The impact left your skin hot and flushed, a visible mark of the humiliation you felt. You fought back tears, determined not to let them see your vulnerability.

With trembling hands, you gently placed your palm against your reddened cheek, trying to soothe the pain. Your eyes flickered towards the girl, searching for any sign of remorse or understanding, but all you saw was a cold, dismissive gaze. Her arms crossed defiantly, she demanded that you call for the manager, her voice dripping with disdain.

„Call the manager.“

Desperation welled up within you, and you mustered the courage to speak, your voice quivering with a mix of fear and desperation. "Wait, please! I... I really need this job," you pleaded, hoping that she would see reason, that she would understand the dire circumstances that led you to this moment.

She cut you off, her words sharp and dismissive. "I don't care, call for your manager," she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation or empathy.

Your gaze shifted towards Gojo, silently pleading for his intervention, for him to vouch for you or at least offer some support. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a furrowed brow and a hint of disappointment. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight of disbelief and disapproval. "Can't believe you would pull something like that," he murmured, his words landing like a heavy blow to your already wounded heart.

Your hand, still trembling, fell from your cheek as you straighten your posture. With a deep breath, you mustered the strength to bow,

"I'll get t-the manager right away," you said,

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Gojo and the girl, making your way towards the counter to call for the manager.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the phone, dialing the number with shaky fingers. Each ring felt like an eternity, amplifying the anxiety that coursed through your veins. Finally, a voice answered on the other end, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Hello- this is Y/n L/n from [Bakery]. I... I need to speak with the manager, please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The person on the other end assured you that they would connect you, and you waited anxiously, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you waited, your mind raced with thoughts of the consequences that awaited you. Losing this job would mean losing your only source of income, and the financial strain it would bring was overwhelming. You couldn't bear the thought of disappointing your loved ones or struggling to make ends meet.

Finally, the manager's voice came through the line, and you mustered up the courage to explain the situation. You recounted the accident, your sincere apologies, and the girl's demand for your termination. The manager listened attentively, their voice calm and composed as they absorbed the details.

After a brief pause, the manager spoke, their tone firm yet compassionate. "I will come over to assess the situation and speak with all parties involved. Please remain calm and await my arrival."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you hung up the phone.

As you turned around, you noticed Gojo and the girl engaged in a hushed conversation. Their expressions were still filled with anger and disappointment, but there was also a hint of uncertainty. You approached them cautiously, your eyes downcast.

"I've c-called the manager," you said softly,"They will be here soon to address the situation. I... I'm truly sorry for what happened. It was never my intention to cause any harm or distress."

„Sure“ the girl replied.

-

Months had passed since that fateful encounter at the café. You had lost your job, the incident with Gojo and the girl tarnishing your reputation and leading to your dismissal. Now, you found yourself standing by the reception desk of another run-down motel, desperately seeking a place to stay for the night because you got kicked out of the last one.

As you approached the receptionist, a tired-looking man with a permanent scowl on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety.

“Excuse me,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. “I was wondering if you have any available rooms for tonight?”

The receptionist glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes narrowing as he took in your disheveled appearance. His tone was curt as he replied, “We do have a few rooms left, but I’ll need payment upfront.”

Your heart sank. You had been scraping by, barely making ends meet, and the little money you had left was barely enough to cover your basic necessities.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have enough money to pay for a room.”

The receptionist’s scowl deepened, his impatience evident. “Look, we can’t just give away rooms for free. If you can’t pay, then I suggest you find somewhere else to go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the gravity of the situation. You were alone, with nowhere to turn and no one to rely on. The weight of your mistakes and the consequences they had brought upon you felt suffocating.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the reception desk, feeling the eyes of the other guests in the lobby on you, judging and pitying your predicament. As you walked towards the exit, a mix of shame and desperation washed over you, threatening to consume your spirit.

Outside, the cold night air greeted you, a stark reminder of your current reality. You stood on the sidewalk, feeling lost and defeated. The world seemed to blur around you as you pondered your next move, wondering how you had ended up in this dire situation.

Suddenly, a voice chimed in from behind, jolting you out of your thoughts. Startled, you turned around to find yourself face to face with Geto, your ex's best friend. His black eyes bore into yours, his raised eyebrows conveying curiosity and surprise. His gaze drifted to the suitcase clutched tightly in your hand, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Geto?" you questioned, your voice tinged with confusion.

A puff of smoke escaped his lips as he exhaled the cigarette between his fingers,"How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Suguru," he replied,

“Why are you here?” he asked, standing before you and peering into your eyes. But before you could answer, another question slipped from his lips, catching you off guard. “Where is Satoru?”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. He didn’t know. How could he not know? Wasn’t he Satoru’s best friend? Shouldn’t he have been informed about the breakup that had occurred just last month? Did Gojo, your ex, not bother to share the news with him?

“Didn’t Satoru tell you?” you asked, breaking eye contact with him, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

“Tell me what?” he questioned. He removed the cigarette from his lips and threw it to the ground, crushing it under his shoe.

“That we broke up,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you watched his reaction, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he regained his composure.

“You two broke up..?” he questioned,“Since when did you-”

“Last month we broke up,” you interrupted,

“Is there any reason why you two broke up? Everything was good, wasn’t it?” As he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“He…” you hesitated, your gaze shifting to the side. “He found someone else,” you admitted, your lips trembling slightly.

“Oh,” he responded, his hand retracting from your shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes turned towards the night sky, lost in his own thoughts, before refocusing on you. “And why are you here in the middle of the night?” he asked, his gaze scanning you from head to toe, taking in your worn-out clothes. His eyes returned to your face.

“I got kicked out of the motel because I couldn’t pay for it anymore,” you replied,

His brows furrowed,"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said softly,"You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

Without hesitation, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I have an idea," he said,"Why don't you come stay with me until you find a job and get back on your feet?"

Surprised by his offer, you looked at him,"I- I can‘t do that-!" you spoke.

A warm smile spread across his face. "Of course you can," he replied. "I have a spare room and it would be my pleasure to help you out. Sometimes, all we need is a little support to get back on track."

„But-!“

„No buts.“

"Thank you," you whispered, "I don't know what to say..."

He smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling,"No need to thank me," he insisted. "We all go through tough times, and sometimes we just need a helping hand. If there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

He took the suitcase from your hand and turned around, walking towards his house. "Let's go," he said, looking back at you.

You nodded and followed after him.

NEXT

[wishful-seeker]

Tips on how to avoid being unintentionally ableist

1. When a disabled person says they cannot do something, and you wish to offer solutions, do not make a solution that involves them powering through pain, or something thats not accessible to the disabled.

Example:

Disabled person: "washing dishes hurts too much and i cannot do it."

Abled person: "what if you did one dish at a time throughout the day?"

This statement is not respecting that this disabled person just said they "can't". Always respect that. No matter how simple the task would be for you.

Disabled person:" i think ill use plastic silverware so i don't make dishes."

Abled person: "plastic is bad for the environment!"

This statement shuts down the most accessible and disabled friendly option that this disabled person can actually do because of the abled persons personal beliefs. This is not helpful, and ableist.

Better yet, instead of offering solutions, ask them directly "is there anything you need that you do not have that would help you do this?" This allows the disabled person to think about what would work, and they will always have a better idea of what would work than you do.

To add on to this, when we say we have no more energy to solve a problem or do a task, or change our lifestyle, we mean it.

2. If you feel discomfort when a disabled person is talking about their health, good and bad, that is ableist. Your discomfort is coming from a place that deams disabled peoples very existence as a bad thing and you need to fix that.

For example:

Disabled person:" this week has been rough pain wise, ive been through a lot, felt like my body was on fire. Lucky i got new meds though and i think they're helping!"

Abled person: "can we talk about something else, this is a bummer."

Disabled people should be able to exist freely without worrying about your personal comfort. Do you really think its appropriate to tell someone in constant pain that their life is making YOU uncomfortable?

3. Do not treat disabled people as tragedies, do not romanticize their old life or put their current one down.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah my life is pretty difficult sometimes, ive lost a lot but i still have happy moments."

Abled person: "it makes me so sad to see what disabled people go through :(. You used to love rock climbing and running, i would love to see you move around more again."

This statement is putting more value on the disabled persons abled past, and ignoring their life as a whole.

4. Do not avoid speaking to disabled people because it hurts to see your loved one disabled.

For example: my grandmother avoids conversations with me because it hurts her to see me in pain. While she has good intentions it leaves me being unable to be close to her. This is very isolating to the disabled.

5. Do not stop inviting your disabled friend/loved one out even if they are never well enough to attend. Unless we specifically ask you to stop asking if we can go out, good chances are we want to know you still care because again, disability is very isolating.

6. When a disabled person says certain things in their health have gotten better or worse, do not challenge this because you don't see a difference.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah things are getting a little better"

Abled person sees disabled person using their wheelchair like usual: "i thought you said you were getting better?"

Better and worse are usually small changes only the disabled experience, its not like abled people healing from a broken arm. Better to a disabled person could mean they can stand for 10 more minutes.

7. Do not expect disabled people to ever be abled again, and again, do not put more value on an abled life.

For example:

Disabled person:"I have been using a wheelchair for 2 years."

Abled person: "oh you're young, im sure you'll be walking around in no time!"

This statement invalidates and ignores the disabled persons current life by hoping they get a more abled bodied life. Its fine to hope disabled people get better, but you don't get to decide what better looks like.

Hope this helps, stay punk.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ FIRST KISS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fluff + mutual pining if you squint, it’s literally just you being satoru’s first kiss <3, he’s just a loser boy beneath all his facades !!

it’s summer the first time you kiss satoru. his lips taste like the lingering sweetness of kikufuku. the cicadas are calling, and the sun finds every crevice of your skin to hug.

it’s hot outside—but you don’t mind the heat so much when it’s the fan of satoru’s breath against your skin. you can feel his hands tremble as they finds your hips. hesitant, you note as he pauses a moment before finally letting them rest against you.

“you’re eager, sweetheart,” he hums—because satoru, even dazed from the taste of you, is still persistently himself. large hands are gently cradling the curves of your waist—he’s warm there too, where he holds you and pulls you closer to his chest. he grins when you press a kiss to his jaw, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.

“it doesn’t feel like you’re kissing me while held at gunpoint either, gojo,” you roll your eyes. your hand cups his face, thumb tracing over the swell of his cheek gently.

gojo—his lips, rosy and just a bit swollen, pout at the use of his surname. surely, now that you’ve stolen the innocence of his lips, you can spare him a bit more than that. surely, the intimacy of his given name doesn’t outweigh the intimacy of exchanging breath.

satoru—he imagines the way the name would sound from you, carefully whispered like a secret. everything you do is careful, he’s noticed, everything about you is thoughtful and soft.

more than anything, you’re careful in the way you touch him. you’re delicate in the way you let yourself explore his skin, like he’s fragile and easy to hurt. like all he’s ever known is pain. it’s ironic—someone like satoru should know very little about pain, should never feel the devastating blows at its hands when infinity leaves more than enough room for him to remain untouched.

but you’re funny like that; take him by surprise as you carve out the slant of his cheekbone with your thumb slowly enough that you might almost think your touch is enough to slice the skin.

it’s nice, he thinks distantly, being handled with care is nice. it’s not something this world affords so easily.

“this your first kiss?” he asks shamelessly, throwing you that lopsided grin of his.

am i your first? is what he means to ask. what he wants to ask. what he aches to ask.

is he your first? or are you only his? has anyone else tasted the strawberry of your chapstick? was it a different flavor before it was ever strawberry? satoru hopes he’s the only one to ever explore the flavors your lips might come in—maybe you’ll try cherry next. he’d like that.

“it’s certainly your first kiss,” you giggle, thumb moving down to trace his bottom lip, “i can feel you trembling, y’know.”

not many people catch gojo satoru embarrassed—you do, though. that enough should make you feel like god, perhaps. who else is powerful enough to feel the strongest quake? who else feels the quivers of his hands and the uncertain hesitance under his touch?

no one but you—and you’d like to keep it that way.

his face flushes a little, against his control. even gojo satoru is not above the rush of blood rising to his cheeks, even he cannot stop the hue of color that paints across his face. he’s human, after all—and he deserves to be treated as such: with the fragility of being human.

“no it’s not,” he scoffs, “i’ve kissed plenty.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, admiring the rosiness of his flesh, “name one person.”

“i don’t recall anyone’s name,” he shrugs, hands still making sure to keep you painfully close. if you pull away, satoru thinks he might die—thinks he might never recover from the aftershocks of such devastation. “no one was ever worthwhile enough to remember.”

he’s too much sometimes—but never less than enough. you snort, huffing out a small laugh that rings in his ears and makes him gulp.

perfect—you sound and look and feel and taste perfect. gojo satoru is the strongest, but is he deserving of the one thing this earth has that’s devoid of flaws? he’s not so sure. but he can try to be worthy, and perhaps that’s enough.

“well, then tell me, gojo,” you murmur, gently slipping the bandages from his forehead to fall to his neck. he’s only recently left the sunglasses behind—you like him better this way. you can see the outline of his features better, even if you do miss his eyes.

“hm?” he quirks a brow, breath almost hitching when his eyes meet yours—since when have you looked at him like that? since when have your pupils housed so much affection for him? have you always done so, and he’s never noticed?

it would be a crime to not have noticed before this, he thinks, a cruel and terrible reality of missing every soft and affectionate gaze.

“will i be long forgotten after this kiss? or has this one finally caught your attention?”

there is no prior kiss to compare yours to—but there never needs to be one after, either. this is the best kiss he’ll ever have, the only kiss he wants to have. no one will ever feel like you, he’s sure of it. no one will ever make him feel what you do, and even infinity is something that cannot protect him from the risks.

but satoru is not scared, not of you—and never with you.

so he grins, tapping his chin in thought as he hums, “give me another, and i’ll decide.”

you scoff in disbelief—amused, if anything, before shaking your head. he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him.

“you never change, gojo,” you say fondly, “do you know that?”

“say satoru,” he says quietly. it’s almost a plead—it sounds like a plead.

you smile. it’s an innocent little thing, untouched by the cruelties of life—or maybe it has, and you still find a reason to stay pure. maybe it’s the latter, he realizes, maybe you’re just resilient enough to remain unwavering in the way you love so unapologetically.

“come here, satoru,” you whisper, gently pulling his face closer as you hold his cheeks.

desperately, he needs to taste his name rolling off your tongue—so he comes closer, bridging the gap and kissing you again. and again—and he can’t find it in him to stop.

the same day satoru has his first kiss, you call him by his first name. it’s summer. the flowers smell sweet as the cicadas call, and you put the sun’s heat to shame.

he’ll always stay warm wrapped in you.

tbh this was supposed to be y’all fucking for the first time but then it just turned into this. alas, we prevail

[86espresso]

secrets i have held in my heart, are harder to hide than i thought ✯ jh86

sum: “I really like you.” *looks around* “are you sure-”

// jack x med student

warnings: 18+, oral (f & m receiving), mentions of familial neglect, cursing, kissing, stress, anxiety, doubt, pet tigers, jack thinking too hard, reader is insecure don’t know what for 💔, overuse of commas because im insane, happy ending, a lil too sappy (i say this with emphasis), i mean it there’s a whole lotta CHEESE, mostly fluff, very emotional and hearty pls im sorry im a lover. afab!reader w/ she/her pronouns :)

w/c; 7.6k

a/n: hey so yeah. wtf. the word count?? i had so much fun writing this. half scared that its boring. i love simp / munch jack. ps: as queen as y/n is, i gave reader a nickname, sorry. (a very … unique nickname. i myself am puzzled as to how my brain works) enjoy. or at least try to. under the cut !

THE library was unsurprisingly almost empty considering the fact that no sane person would want to step outside in this rainstorm, so you were content in studying organic chemistry in the very back, alone with your thoughts, your textbooks, folklore by Taylor Swift, and now a guy. Who decided that he will break the silence in the almost empty library.

You were in your world, as always, not really connecting or associating with things around you but the ruckus of the someone knocking over an umbrella stand and profusely apologizing to apparently no one made you lift your head up. You smile slightly before going back to your work, barely registering your surroundings. 

Sure, Jack was entirely focused on his friends, studies, and hockey back in high school, but he was an expert at faces and names and could jot down absolutely anyone that he knows he’s seen before. He knew exactly who the girl with dark circles and way-too-oversized hoodie in the back was. 

At least five minutes later, Jack started hovering near your spot, which was the romance aisle. You sneak a glance at him and take note of his athletic shorts and New York Giants hoodie and quickly denote that this man was definitely not the romance novel type (or maybe book type at all). After flipping mindlessly through another book he lets out a soft “fuck it” before turning to face you completely. 

You can’t help but crack a smile at his jump when he saw that you had already been staring at him with wide, voidfull eyes. 

A pause. You staring at him. Him staring at you. He cracks a dopey smile, blinding you with his paper white teeth, and pulls up a chair in front of you. 

“What’s up, Dee?” He asks holding his hand up for a dap. Bewildered at how this complete stranger knows your nickname amongst close friends (from when you gracefully told people that ‘the bags under your eyes are Dior’), you dap him back anyway and blurt, “I have never seen you before.”

“You went to my high school. We worked in a project in like, AP World I think? I dunno. But I remember you saved my grade that whole year.”

Your mind remains blank. You saved a lot of people’s grades. 

“My only high school memories are countless APs, pain, suffering, studying and depression.” 

Most people would blanch at your dreamy straightforwardness, but Jack just grinned again. 

“Yeah, I remember you were always tired but also really funny. And tired. Deja Vu, man, watching you sit here, laser focused on your books. I was on the hockey team, if that helps.”

I furrow my brows, thinking hard. 

“I do remember that our hockey guys were really good. They would announce their names like every day on the speakers because they won all the time.” 

Jack groans at the memory. He was well known but it was just uncomfortable having your last names called out where the whole school could hear. 

You laugh at his reaction. “They would call the same names over and over. I don’t know if it was you who used to hide your face every time they did it but yeah.”

Jack perked up. “Yeah that was me.” 

You take a moment to admire his boyish facial features and athletic build. He’s pretty. 

‘Don’t even think about it’ pretty. 

“Dang. You were like a superstar. Sorry I don’t remember much. I’m like, walking jet lag.” 

He laughs a typical frat boy laugh (if that makes sense) and you like it. You want to hear it again. 

“So, what are you doing out here? Never pegged you for a big city girl.” 

“I go to college here.”

“Damn, we should’ve met sooner. My name is Jack, by the way.” 

“My friends call me Dee, but I guess you knew that.”

You were left pondering as to why a hockey player from high school was even anticipating meeting you; people only approached you for notes and the occasional party invitation back then.

“So, uh- what about you? Make it big in the league thingy yet?” 

He breaths a laugh. “You could say that.”

“Who do you play for?” 

“New Jersey.”

“Prudential, isn’t it? That’s close by my apartment.” I say in thought. 

Jack grins. “Really? We might bump into each other often, then.” 

He looks genuinely excited. 

Why. 

What’s going on. 

You chat for a few more minutes but it’s mostly you saying out of pocket things and Jack laughing instead of side-eyeing you and walking away. You were surprised at his effortless kindness. 

“Phone.”

“Hm?”

“Or Snap? Whatever you feel like is best,” he says, pulling out his phone. It takes a second to register that he’s implying that you exchange contact information. 

“Don’t really use Snapchat. I kinda have too much on my plate right now.” You hand over your phone. 

“You always overwork yourself, you should be at the club. You’ll die on the inside.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle, I hope.”

You just need to push through and never ever have fun.

He checks the time and sighs. 

“I was just here to return a book but I gotta head back. Flight for a roadie takes off in a couple hours. I’ll be back in, like, four days? I hope to see you around then?” 

You match his soft smile and nod, whatever roadie means but okay. It was actually nice, wasting some valuable study time for a potential friend. He’s cool. 

“Yeah. See you.” You offer and huff a laugh as he reaches out to dap you up again. 

That night, after yet another long and winding day with the only highlight being meeting someone who was apparently a high school acquaintance, you decide to look him up. Surprised at the absolute famethat this man had loaded, your lips parting at every detail, you click on his instagram and officially unhinge your jaw. 

500k followers? 

You’re never on insta but that can’t be good. 

The shock of how you basically were bonding with someone who definitely downplayed how famous he was didn’t wear off a week later; he texted you quite often and you tried to text back without seeming dry. 

It was nearly a week later when he offered to meet up again. 

-> two questions

babies come from the baby store.

-> wtf 

sorry. ask away !

-> 1. are you at the library rn

do you still like the caramel frappe from dunkin

yes. and yes. what the hell are you doing. 

-> something nice. see u soon angel. 

angel is wild when I look like I snuck on this earth but thanks for that anyways. you’re very kind :))

-> kind enough to tell you to that you’re really pretty :))

*reacted with heart emoji*

You check your forehead temperature to make sure you hadn’t just imagined the whole conversation. 

It wasn’t long before Jack was strutting into the library with two dunkin’ shakes in his hands accompanied by his gorgeous smile when he spotted you in the back, once again. 

“You’re wearing glasses today.” He says when you look up at his outstretched hand. You reach forward with a grateful smile, and deja vu hits you hard. The same exact scene playing out in high school when he had asked everyone in some group project their favorite drinks and treated them when they all got an A. 

“I remember you,” you say as he flopped on the bean bag next to you with his own drink. 

“Yeah? I knew you would. You’re too smart.” He says, again dazzling you with his perfect smile as he lifts two fingers to tap your temple softly to emphasize his point. It’s a challenge to tear your eyes away from his baby blues. 

“Your eyes are so blue. It’s distracting.” 

Jack’s eyes widen at your unintentional rebuttal at his subtle flirting, and he smirks. He knew that you weren’t aware that you were being flirted with the past week; what you lacked in emotional and social intelligence was shadowed by your sharpness in academics. 

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you were a really big deal around here? Everyone knows you and you have like a million followers.”

“Stalking me?” 

“Educating myself.”

Jack laughs and throws as arm around you to peer over your shoulder. 

“Well, I don’t just go around telling people how good I am. So, whatcha doing?” 

The contact makes you freeze up and once again the surreality of a man wanting to spend time with you disorients you a little bit.

“Watching porn.” 

Jack laughs again and earns a stern look from the clerk down the aisle. 

“I’m studying anatomy.”

“Yeah, didn’t suspect any less than med school for your smartass.” 

You turn to him to talk back but his face was inches away from you and that sets off alarm bells throughout your body. You’ve had your fair share of guys and girls but there was not a single string attached and the short flings were easy to forget. 

But having someone that pretty, that close to you, not showing exactly what intentions he had? That caused your anxiety to spike. Positively. 

“Your face is really close.” You simply state, pushing your large frames higher up your nose. 

“And yours is really red.” 

You immediately press your hands against your cheeks and groan at what you picture your face looks like. Jack just giggles again and pulls your hands away. 

“It’s cute.” 

His hands are still on your wrists. 

“It really isn’t, but thank you. You’re very kind.”

There’s a beat of silence where you can see the gears in his head turning. 

“Do you like aquariums?”

You surprise yourself and Jack when you pull him into a hug as a greeting outside the aquarium.

The feel of your chests touching with little fabric in between set Jack’s heart off racing and the way your curves dipped at your hips had him pulling at his collar. 

But most of all, when he pulled back from the hug, he noticed you were wearing shorts that had your legs all out for him to ogle over. 

“You hidin’ all that?” He scans your figure, noting the dark, low cut, full sleeve top. 

“What? All this?” You say as you push your tits together. “There’s not much to hide.”

Jack’s throat runs dry. Unfortunately for him, he’s still a guy and tits still make him drool. And the fact that you had no idea you were keeping him on his toes 

“Be for real.” He rolls his eyes. “How’d your day go?” 

“Nice, actually. I just took Nala for a walk and-“ you cut yourself off. 

“I didn’t know you had a pet? Can I see her? I love anim-“

“She’s a tiger.” 

You give him more and more reasons everyday as to why him hanging out with you was unethical and strange but he seemed to keep on staying. Studying you as if intrigued by your strangeness. 

“You- have a pet..tiger?” 

Yeah. I’ve done it.

“I- yeah.” 

It seems like all Jack ever does is grin because he’s doing it again and flinging an arm around your shoulder as he starts to walk with you. 

“Oh, Dee. There’s just so much to learn and love about you.” 

It takes you a second to react. 

“That may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“You serious?” 

“Yeah. Well, cause I was ugly growing up, and people always thought I was strange. It’s hard to imagine that people are genuinely interested in any sort of friendship with me.” 

Jacks fingertips on your bare collarbone, his cologne and aftershave, his figure pressed against your side; all of it was overtaking your senses.  

“Baby, why do you think I walked up to you that day in the first place? You may not remember much but I do. You were so kind and honest. And so intriguing. And hardworking. And pretty. I think your dark circles are hot.” 

You huff out a laugh and ignore the flutter in your chest at ‘baby’. 

Jack looks down at you with a gaze that he can’t pinpoint. You’re just very, very endearing to him. He needs to show you all kinds of fun so you laugh like that again. 

“You smell nice.” You say and hesitate before loosening yourself against him more. He hums at the increased contact and at your compliment, smiling against your hair. 

“Thank you.” 

To say you had the absolute time of your life at the aquarium was an understatement. Jack got to see a side of you that loved fun, that was carefree, and didn’t have that goddamn crease in your eyebrows. You were the one pulling him around, telling him you wanted to be a marine biologist as a kid and that you recognize most of the species. Jack made sure to snap a few pictures of you when you weren’t looking, the lightning shaped twinkle in your eyes a memory he wanted to keep forever. 

Later that day, Jack drove you back to your apartment, mentally noting that you were about a fifteen minute drive from his place. 

“Nala?” You coo out softly as you push open the door and drag Jack inside, not giving him the chance to protest. Jack looks around at your apartment. It’s small and messy, but organized in some places. He jumps and lets out a brief scream when a fucking tiger is bounding towards you at full speed and knocking you over with a hug. You laugh as your beloved Nala starts licking up your face and you both roll on the floor. 

Jack’s breathing calms a little as he remembers who owns the tiger. 

“I’ll put her away for now.” You say, reading Jack’s skepticism. He sighed in relief. 

“Oh good. Because as much as you reassured me and as man as I am, she’s still a tiger.” You giggle at his words and guide Nala towards her room. 

The sound makes Jack smile stupidly. His heart stutters and he wants to put your little laugh on replay. He can’t believe that a girl who stated random medical facts at any time, who lost sleep because ‘she just forgot that it’s important’, who barely remembered him from a while ago even though he remembered everything, who waves at planes as they fly overhead, who didn’t know shit about the sport he played, had him wrapped tightly around her finger. 

He takes a moment to observe your apartment. The stacks of medical related books that he doesn’t want to and never will understand, the old record player sitting in the corner of the kitchen, a huge jar of nutella on the coffee table, a questionable fluffy purple blanket on your sofa. Just little things that made you all the more real to him. 

And he still wants to know more. He wants to know your sleep schedule so he knows that you’re getting enough sleep and when to text or call, he wants to know what you dream of, he wants to know your passions besides studying, he wants to know what made you become so numb and detached, how you still managed to have a twinkle in your eye when you experienced emotion. 

But, as he leans to the counter for support at his racing mind and as you enter the room, still clad in your godforsaken low cut top and curve-hugging shorts, he most of all wants to know what you are like, what your lips would feel like molded against his, how you’d moan or whimper at his touch. He’s still leaning against the counter as he recalls when you unabashedly pushed your tits together just hours ago. 

“You alright?” You ask, but you yourself seemed to have distressed eyebrow lines. 

“Uh? Oh yeah. I was just.” He gestures around your apartment. “Observing.” 

You nod, still lost in thought. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, not liking the stress in your body language. 

“Yeah. It’s just, I have two projects due next week and I’ve been studying for something else so I completely forgot about them.” You frown, feeling tears pool in your eyes. You can’t cry in front of Jack. If everything else didn’t make him abandon you, then this would. 

“Woah. Hey, hey.” Jack is by your side immediately. He feels guilty for thinking of you sinfully while you were in distress but he really couldn’t help it. You blink back the tears and shrug it off. 

“It gets kind of a lot sometimes, y’know?” Jack follows you to the couch and sits next to you, immediately taking your hands in his and pulling your legs onto his lap. You gave up on keeping your cool when he does that and give him a bewildered expression. Being taken care of is so strange. 

“And? Go on, baby.” He smiles softly and encouragingly, dropping one of your hands to hold your chin for a moment before grabbing your hand again. 

You blink. 

“Well, It’s probably not as much as I’m stressing it out to be. I’m about to abuse substances.” 

“Now don’t do that. There’s lots of ways to destress yourself.” Jack’s hand wanders again, resting on your bare knee. His movements are soft and gentle, but they still cause a foreign spark through your body. You dryly cough before registering his words and looking at Jack’s hand that had inched higher by the slightest. 

“Is this flirting?” Rushed out of your mouth and Jack chuckles, a normal sound but an octave lower. 

“Sure is, baby. You’re learning fast.” He’s staring your eyes down, and all of a sudden he’s consuming your senses again. His cologne is still there, his insane blues are glued to yours, his deep breathing is signifying his increasing heart rate. His hand inches higher as he moves closer. 

“Why don’t I just,” shrug, “eat you out? ‘S a better high than drugs-” His phone buzzes in his pocket. 

Jack huffs and pulls away, leaving your insides churning at the his lingering touch and words??? The implication alone, the images conjuring in your head were nothing short of filthy. 

He scowls as he takes the call, muttering something about how it’s his agent and he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t answer. His responses are curt and his expression neutral, but his hand is gripping your thigh with intensity. As he hangs up the call and tosses his phone aside, his hand is almost at your inner thigh and he maneuvers himself to be directly on his knees on the floor in front of you. 

The sudden movement and his face looking up at yours between your slightly parted legs has your pussy throbbing. It’s been weeks since you were.. in this particular position with someone and god did it feel nice that it was the finest man in world to unpause your sex life. 

He leans up to be face level with you. “Do you trust me, baby?” You never noticed how sultry his natural voice was. 

His eyes search yours for any kind of discomfort as his hand reaches forward to cup your cheek. You nod in conformation as he moves closer. 

Your breath hitches as he presses his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth. It confuses you slightly as to why he didn’t just kiss you but both of his hands on your waistband distracts you. 

“Can I take these off?” He questions and you nod once again, not trusting your voice. 

He’s doing everything in slow motion and you think it alludes to your sensitivity earlier, but anticipation and his hands cloud everything in your mind. 

What kind of guy just? offers to eat you out? to help you destress? 

Your shorts are discarded and the exposure doesn’t bother you. Sure your heart would be thudding either way, but Jack made you feel different. No anxiety in the sense that he would judge you or harm you or hurt your feelings.

“Hm, these are cute.” Jack’s thumb fingers over the lining of your underwear. 

You feel yourself flush. 

“Thanks.” Is your quiet response. 

“Relax, baby. This is for you to unwind, not to get nervous. Focus on how you’re feeling,”   Jack instructs as his finger ghosted over your clothed cunt. Your teeth nibble on your bottom lip as you push your hips closer to his hand. 

He smirks at your eagerness and gives in, entirely pushing his thumb against your clit through your panties. 

His thumb moves slowly but firmly back and forth as he gauges your reaction. Finding the right spots where your stomach clenches or your eyebrows knit together. 

“More.” You muster as you open your eyes to look down at Jack who was already moving to take your damp panties off. Once again, slowly. He groans as he sees you glistening for him and starts kissing up your thigh. 

“You have a pretty face.” 

Jack grins up at your compliment while peppering feather light kisses on your inner thighs. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The anticipation pools in your lower stomach as Jack breaks eye contact with you to admire your delicacy in front of him. He uses the same thumb to rub through your folds and reach higher to circle your clit. The stimulation has you moaning softly and the sound has Jack’s cock twitching in his shorts. 

“I- hurry.” You huff in slight annoyance, wanting more besides the slow circles. Jack smirks against your thigh and removes his thumb so he could move forward lick a stripe through your folds. 

Your knuckles get white gripping the pillow,  itching to hold his hair instead as his eyes flicker between yours and your pussy. Jack notices your hand on the pillow and guide it to his hair while sucking and licking your cunt. He parts away for a second to catch his breath before making slow and languid motions with his tongue on your clit. 

You grip his hair, hard. Jack grunts against you and loses a shred of control as he pulls your legs apart further to dive further in. You let out a startled breath at the sudden movement and pull on his hair more as he shakes his head deeper while still staring up at you. 

“Jack..” you breathe out, but it comes out as more of a whimper that makes him hum against you and a spark run through his body. He pulls away and inserts his middle and ring finger through your slick and pumps shortly before curling his fingers. You heave a breath and moan at the feeling while Jack stares up at you in awe. 

“You’re everything.” He says more to himself than you, as he watches you writhe and whimper at his fingers while holding the eye contact. He connects his lips with your clit again and suctions in a way that has your back arching and your moans getting louder and more high pitched with each type of attention Jack gives to your pussy. 

He switched his fingers and mouth and rubs your clit as he laps up your arousal as he feels you getting close. He takes that moment to switch back and locks eyes with you as his dark pink, wet lips attach to your clit again, softly sucking you closer to your tipping point.

“Oh, f-fuck I’m-“  

Your eyebrows knit and your eyes roll back at the sensations of his mouth and tongue and fingers and gaze. 

You spasm around his fingers and moan louder while Jack’s fingers guide you through your release. He licks up whatever he can before sitting and wiping his face with the back of his hand as you stare at him with hooded and tired eyes. 

“Feel better?” He has the nerve to ask as he runs a wet wipe up and between your legs. 

When did he even get that?

Your leg twitches in sensitivity after he’s finished. 

“Mm better.” Was all you could muster. All you wanted was to sleep and dream for days. 

Jack laughs softly at your state and checks the time. 

“I’ll need to head out soon. Team dinner.” He says as he fits another pair of underwear on you. You feel a pang in your chest and anxiety creeps up your spine, but Jack immediately shuts your thoughts down. 

“Hey, this doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you or anything. I’m goin’ cause I have to and I would take you but you look like you could use a nap. We can hang tomorrow?” He’s so soft and caring with you, cupping your cheek and smoothing his thumb over it. 

“Yeah okay.” You say and watch as he gets up, not before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I won’t go anywhere, baby.” 

After the team dinner, when Jack got home and shut the door to his apartment, the first thing he did was call his older brother. Quinn was just the slightest, itty-bittiest bit more fortunate with girls, so Jack naturally went to him for tips here and there. 

A few minutes into the call, they exchanged formalities and talked about each others’ seasons before Quinn cut to the chase. 

“So? Is it a girl?”

Jack blanched. 

“I- well yes, but it’s different this time. Swear.”

“You say that every-time. But it does sound like it might be different.”

“Do you remember Dee from high school?”

“I don’t remember anything from high school.” Is it really that common to forget four years of your life?

“Yeah well. I met her again a few weeks ago. She was the one who used to take all the APs and she graduated early? She was like always tired and kinda funny. And she’s pretty. Like the natural kind of pretty. You’d look at her and want to give up the world for her kind of pretty. I don’t know.” Quinn listened quietly, detecting the hint of fear in Jack’s voice. 

“I might be, like obsessed with her. I think she knows.”

“Wait, wait, wait. She knows? That you like her? And you’re not together yet?” Jack didn’t deny it when he said that he liked her. 

“I-yes? I think so. She might be into me too and we did a thing earlier today and she flirts with me without even thinking about it? That’s gotta mean something right?”

“You did things with her?!She flirts with you?! Do something. But take it slow. She probably still wonders why you even give her the time of day. She likes you but she doesn’t know it yet.” Hearing his older brother say it untightened his chest. 

“I was going to kiss her but I really wanted to things slow with her. She’s been through a bit and, I don’t know, I want to treat her special.” He’s glad that he has a person he can say the cringiest shit to. If it was anyone else on the other line, he would get toasted for the rest of his life. Jack wore his heart on his sleeve and was smart at reading people and their emotions. But sometimes he was just clueless on what to do with that knowledge. 

We can hang tomorrow. 

Who the fuck says that after going down on someone. 

Jack didn’t text you that night.

Or the next morning. 

You started panicking slightly when you come home from classes. 

That had to have been the last straw for him. 

He’s a fucking superstar, he lives in the New York City area, where all the pretty models and blue eyed blondes live. Why the hell would he go for a tired med student from his home state who didn’t care about herself enough to care for him?

Your mind runs a marathon as the elevator doors open to your floor. But when you approach your apartment, Jack is sitting on the floor next to door, scrolling on his phone. 

You freeze and stare blankly as he realizes that you’re here.

He perks up and walks over to you pulling you into a light hug. 

“Hey, Dee. How were classes?”

“Good. Thanks for asking.” You reply, hesitantly wrapping your arms back around him. You weren’t hugged a lot as a kid or growing up. You’ve hugged more in the last two weeks than you have in your entire life. 

“I have a game later today. Wanna come? The other team…isn’t that good. We might win. Unless you have work to do. Or if you just don’t want to go that’s okay too. Or-“ he cuts off when you press a finger against his lips. 

“I’d love to go. I finished a lot of my work during classes.” You smile removing your fingers, relaxing in his arms. “When is it?” 

“At 7. I’ll pick you up, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

You both just stand there for a minute before you remember social cues. 

“So, come in? I’m hungry as fuck. We should eat.” You say pushing the door open, petting Nala as you walk in and Jack followed. He smiles at your awkwardness and accepts. 

Your look is acceptable. Hair clutched back, light makeup, hoodie and sweats is your go-to anyway. Plus, you’re always cold. 

You arrive at around quarter to seven and with the help of signs make your way to the lounge that Jack gave you a pass to. 

There’s a guard at the door that held his hand out for the pass and when you gave it to him he eyed you wearily. 

“You’re Hughes’ girl? Where did you get this?”

“Jack gave it to me.” 

“Uh huh.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “So can I go in?” 

“Sweetheart, Jack has only ever invited two other girls here and I can tell you right now, you’re not the third. Who gave you this pass?” 

The mention of Jack bringing other girls here makes you absolutely sick to your stomach. 

You might vomit. 

But anger bubbles up your throat and you’re about to press your finger into the guards chest and give him a piece of your mind, when there’s a patter of feet and an excited “Dee!” coming from your left. 

Jack has you in his arms already before you could register it. He tucks you into his shoulder, presses his lips against your temple, lingering, and faces the guard. 

“Was there a problem?” The guards mouth hangs open and flickers between the two of you. 

“None at all.” He opens the door and lets the two of you in. After he shuts the door and turns face you, you take a second to admire him. 

He’s dressed in his game jersey, shoulder pads and everything; except for his skates. 

He looks really good. 

“You look really good.” 

Silence. 

“Are you blushing?” 

Jack pulls you into his chest so you don’t see more of the pink adorning his cheeks. 

“Am not,” he mutters above your head and you giggle as you try to untangle from his grasp. 

You pull back and notice that he still has a tint on his cheeks. He holds your face for a moment, admiring every feature. Going from eye to eye, the slope of your nose, the dimple digging into your left cheek, a beauty mark on your chin, your lips. 

You feel your breath quickening when his thumb grazes your cheek and his eyes linger on your lips a little longer. 

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the two of you. 

“Warm ups in two!”

Jack sighed and looked back at you. 

“I need to go. You can watch from here.” He led you further into the room and you could hear the crowd getting louder as you got closer. He led you to a balcony where there were a few other people, and pecked your cheek before going back. 

The game starts and you’re more clueless that you thought you’d be. The puck was way too small and you didn’t bring your glasses, but you remember Jack telling you that he was ‘86’, so you tried to follow wherever he was. 

The girl next to you strikes up a conversation which you cautiously tread with, but you warm up soon. She tells you that she’s dating someone on the team. 

“Woah. That must be cool.” She looks confused. 

“Aren’t you Jack’s girl?”

“No? We’re friends. I think. He’s really nice to me.” Your new friend blinks before talking again. 

“He really likes you though, and you look like you really like him.” 

“Well of course I do. He treats me really well.” 

“Oh, babe. No. He like likes you. My boyfriend told me he talks about you all the time.” She holds your hand. You look down at it and back at her. You’re quiet for a moment. You’re not sure how to process that. 

“I’m not sure how to process that.”

“Well, do you like him? Love him even?” 

“I-“

You’re cut off by that awfully loud goal horn, and glance at the screen to see that Jack has scored. You felt a surge of pride in your chest and feel yourself smiling wide as Jack’s tiny figure skated around and fist bumped the players on the bench. He turns to your section for a moment, lingering for a sliver of a second and your heart stops. The game called for the face-off just a second later so he had to look away. 

You look over to the girl on your right and she’s already looking at you with a half smirk. 

Jack politely declined on drinks later in the locker room after the devils won. 

He leans against his car and thinks about you. He really wanted to see you, needed your affirmation. 

It’s all he seems to do now. Jack just wants reassurance and peace in knowing that you were there. He spent every waking moment thinking about you and how he got you to show sides of yourself that you don’t show to people. He tried to keep his personal life away from hockey but the way his instincts told him to look in your general direction after he scored made him sick to his stomach. 

He might actually be stupid obsessed with you. 

Trusting his gut on your body language and making a bold move the previous night may have been the best thing he’s ever done.

That means that he doesn’t need to be cautious with his flirting anymore. He knows exactly what he feels but he wants to wait til you come to that conclusion on your own. 

He didn’t notice your quiet footsteps in his direction and was mildly startled when you were standing in front of him. Almost at once, he felt a smile adorn his face. 

“That was so cool, I didn’t understand anything but I know you scored.” Your wide, twinkling eyes stared back up at him. “I’m proud of you.”

And that’s all it took for him to usher you into the back seat, strip off your sweatpants, and throw your legs over his shoulders. 

Not even ten minutes later, your lungs are dying for air and your body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat. He was rougher this time, sucking a hickey on your neck before, getting the entire bottom half of his face messy, his own hooded eyes losing focus as he pleasured you.  

“You back to me yet, baby?”

“Hm?” 

You open your eyes and you’re in the front seat, cleaned up, pants back on, and Jack is fastening your seatbelt for you. 

“I lost you for like, three minutes there. You okay?”

His voice is gentle and quiet, his index and thumb holding your chin softly as his azure eyes bore into yours. 

“Chipotle?”

He laughs, pulling back and shifting the gear into drive, his hair falling slightly in his face and he pushes it back. 

“All the chipotle in the world for my Dee.”

Your mind briefly flashed to how he kissed the tip of your nose before he went down on you, and not your lips.

You’re in Jack’s apartment now (your heart dropping when you thought of Nala, but then you remembered that you fed her quite well and she had to be passed out by now. Jack handed you a Hershey’s kiss to calm you down), and it’s big. 

Like, huge. 

Massive for someone who lives alone.

His TV was playing ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’ and you were watching like a hawk. 

“I’ve never seen this one before.”

“Really? You don’t watch romcoms?” Jack looks at you surprised, sitting next to you with both of your chipotle orders and throwing a blanket over the two of you. 

“No. I don’t really get the time.” You furrow your brows and turn to him with a blank expression. “You’ve showed me so much fun in the last few weeks. Thank you.”

Jack could happily die in that moment. He flashes back to yesterday again, your childlike wonder, the new things he learnt about you. 

“‘S nothing yet. There’s so much more you deserve to feel happy about.” He kisses your temple before getting closer to you. 

You both watch in silence for a while, occasionally laughing and aw-ing, until you can’t hold it back anymore. 

“Do you think kissing is unhygienic?”

You look up to him, his unbuttoned shirt, messy hair and lingering smile making your heart skip a beat. 

Oh no. 

You have such a horrible, fat crush on him.

“Hm?”

“I-nothing.”

“M’kay.”

Sweet boy is not a multitasker and the movie was at a really good part, so he didn’t really get distracted and soon you were engrossed too. 

You were still in a cloud of feelings and it was getting a bit much for you. Your head was usually void of emotion, so the change was welcome. And you had Jack to thank for that. He’s done so much for you, taken care of you in ways that no one has and no one ever will. 

You realize that he could be your worst heartbreak or someone that’s going to be in your life forever. 

You feel slightly sick thinking about it and you need to get it out of your system. 

“Can I suck you off?” Your lips lightly brush his ear. 

Now that. 

That gets Jack’s attention. 

He nearly snaps his neck to turn to face you and your noses touch. 

“You- I- what?”

Your fingertips are feathery as you brush the hair out of his face. 

“I want to suck your dick.”

“You don’t- if this is to- to reciprocate or something-“

“I promise it’s not. I really just want to.”

Jack is already semi-hard and he can feel his dress pants tighten. His eyes briefly widen and he borderline gulps before he watches your hand run down his chest and toy with his belt buckle. As soon as he gives you the green light and pauses ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’, you’re on your knees in front of him, just like how he was with you the previous night. 

Jack’s sanity is once again lost as he watches you on your knees for him. You make a quick work of his belt buckle and pull down his dress pants just enough. 

You can already see how loaded he is through his boxers and look back up at him with the same wide eyes that he goes crazy over. 

“Cool.” 

Jack barely has time to react over your concise approval of his length before you’re mouthing over his boxers, sucking softly, leaving Jack gasping for a breath. 

You pull down his boxers and start working immediately, pumping him and wetting your hands slightly so you have more friction. 

“Y’know, it’s crazy—I know what all of these veins are called.” You say, more to yourself but Jack’s half smile drops when you lay your tongue flat against his shaft and suck on his tip. He lets out an embarrassing sound between a staggered breath and a whimper as you make your way down. Your cheeks hollow out as you make eye contact with him, making sure you’re getting it right. You come off and continue with your hands and look up at him. 

“Good?”

“F- Christ- fuck, so good, baby. So good.” 

Happy with yourself, you continue to suck him clean while he chokes out moans and his stomach clenches. You can feel him getting heavier in your mouth and you start speeding up, using both of your hands. 

There’s a moment when he reaches forward to push your hair out of your face, so that you don’t get bothered and so that he sees you properly, which warms your heart. 

He taps one of yours hands that’s on him to indicate that he’s close and you pull back with a kitten lick to his tip before sticking your tongue out.

You have Jack seeing stars when his load pumps into your mouth, and your eyes dart over his shirt clinging to his chest, his hair falling into his screwed shut eyes, his lips parted and his hand gripping the sofa with such intensity that his veins pop out. 

You tuck him back into his clothing after cleaning him up, and he looks at you with tired eyes while making grabby hands. 

You chuckle, climbing into his arms and he slumps his body against you, both of you now lying down on the couch as he unpauses the movie. 

His head rests comfortably against your chest, one of your hands running through his hair, and the other intertwined with his. 

It’s sweet. 

Jack wakes up alone and panics at once. It’s embarrassing, really; like finding out your stuffed animal fell to the floor during your sleep as a toddler. But when he checks his messages, he finds a text from you. 

Hey, I had to leave. I have a project due tomorrow and also Nala :( We can meet up later. I had fun yesterday. Thank you :))

It’s hits Jack how gone he is when he finds himself clutching his phone to his heart. 

It takes a while. 

He comes home fresh from morning practice took a nice long nap to clear his head before waking up properly to see that it was raining outside. 

He was enjoying (not) the protein shake that he was required to drink and mindlessly scoring through plays from an old game, when it hits him like a sack of bricks. 

Do you think kissing is unhygienic? 

You think he doesn’t want to kiss you. 

You think he’s toying with your heart by showing you all kinds of affection besides the one thing that both of you wanted so fucking bad. 

You think he doesn’t like you enough to do that yet. 

The drive to yours was smooth despite the rain pouring down from every direction, and because you always reminded him of road safety. 

You were standing outside of the apartment building, looking like you were having an argument with.. your tiger. 

Your hands were on your hips, body soaked and hair wet as you tried to coax Nala into shelter. 

Jack laughed at both of your antics which got your attention. Your mind flashes back to the day that you met him, the pouring rain, and how awkward it was to meet someone you knew from a while back. You wave at him happily as he approached, but noticed a hint of  anxiety and embarrassment. 

“What’s wro-?“

“Are you into poetry?”

“Uh, sometimes? Why?”

“This- well, I can’t read it. Here.” 

He hands over his phone, stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at anything but you. Puzzled, you cover his phone from the pelting droplets so you could read. 

‘The first time you caught my eye

it was not love at first sight. 

Instead a quiet curiosity was

planted in my chest and I knew

it was only a matter of time before 

you sunk beneath my bones and

nurtured this deep seated familiarity

into a love so fierce that I would question

if I had ever been in love before.’

Lyra Wren. 

You read it again. 

There’s no way he actually searched for a poem to depict how he felt. 

“Look, I didn’t understand half of it hit you get the-“

Jack was cut off by our lips against his. 

It was short, maybe a second long, closed mouth, but you pulled away breathless and were close enough to feel his heart racing underneath his clothes. 

How desperately he wanted your cold, soft lips against his again. 

“So, you like me? For who I am?”

He nods. 

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I-“ 

You were interrupted by Nala’s whine (to say: I change my mind, I want to go inside), and you give Jack his phone, grab his hand and pull him inside. 

“C’mon, we’ll get pneumonia.”

Your hands were still in each others, his engulfing yours, when you shut the door to your apartment, locked it, watched Nala bound to her room, and turned to face him again properly. 

He was so, so close. Your lips were parted, just inches apart, your foreheads touching. 

He closed the gap this time, almost groaning in relief when he felt your mouth properly against his, something you both yearned for without realizing. His lips move against yours gently, savoring as much of you as he can. He nips your bottom lip and it has you and Jack smiling into the kiss. And then it’s a mess, teeth clashing, giggling, tongues lolling over another, one of his hands cupping your face and the other wrapped around your waist, but it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You pull back. 

“I love you more.”

[sqvishii]

its 11:50 pm right now but thats not stopping me

so, you find a way back home from twst right? just before the day you were about to leave, here are the ones i think would break the dark mirror to never let you leave (yandere twst boys)

ACE! oh, dear. he loves you too much to let you go. he was the first one you became friends with, right? no way you're leaving him just like that.

JADE & FLOYD! jade and floyd. jade AND floyd. no way they're just letting you leave that easily, the moment you visit the dark mirror, it's already broken.

JAMIL! you were the only one who understood his pain, his suffering and his want of becoming first instead of that spoiled brat kalim. he wouldn't give you away for anything in the world.

IDIA! well, he'll order ortho to go and break the dark mirror, if his little brother says no? just a little coding and he'll say it again, making sure his brother follows his orders. you were the only person he really saw as a friend, like, physical, friend. he doesn't know how to cope if you were gone, he'll be that shut-in loser all over again.

MALLEUS! what else did you expect? you didn't fear him, didn't even run away whenever he walks over to you while other students do. you're one in a million, and he doesn't want to let you go.

OVERBLOTS! just wanted to add them / self-explanatory teehee :3

share me your thoughts on this!!

[sundrop-writes]

Mister Mxyzptlk

Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader Blurb

Word Count: 800

Sundrop's Main Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of bullying (Stiles being bullied for having a 'weird' name); mentions of Stiles's trauma surrounding his mother's death; obscure comic book references; this is mostly just fluff - very light implications toward sexual themes, flirting and romantic attraction between Stiles and the reader.

A/N: So, the last time I was actively watching Teen Wolf (when S3 and S4 were airing) I thought it was a running gag that Stiles's real name was never revealed and it was just always a mystery to the audience (like how it's a gag in Degrassi that Heather St. Claire's face is never seen). But when I saw a tiktok showing his real name, I was shocked, and then entirely amused by it. And I was also really offended because I'm watching S1 for the first time and the coach calls Stiles's name 'child abuse' and his father doesn't even dispute that, knowing that it's a family name to honour his dead mother's side of the family. And the fact that he is a character whose real name is very hard to pronounce and very few people actually know what it is got me thinking about the comic book character - Mister Mxyzptlk - and I realized that Stiles, being a comic book nerd who is always referencing things like The Incredible Hulk and Batman and Robin, would fucking love that comparison. Thus, this mini fic. Usually, this is an idea I would save and put it as a moment in a longer fic, but I'm not currently working a fic where I feel like this fits in, so it has become its own mini fic. Random idea, but enjoy this random fluff.

...

"Is Stiles your real name?"

You inquired lightly, walking out of school with Scott and Stiles.

"It's something I've been wondering since we met."

Stiles felt a unique anxiety clutch in his chest at this question. He hated telling people his real name, especially when those people were pretty girls. Especially when they were pretty girls he had only met a week ago who were new in town who otherwise didn't know what a reputation he had for being a loser and could form their own opinions of him.

He could see any chance he had with you being flushed down the drain at top speed. But it wasn't much different from any other girl he previously had a crush on.

"Cause, I thought maybe it was your last name. Guys who play sports usually do that - always call each other by their last names." You went on, not sensing the awkwardness as Scott and Stiles eyed each other heavily, waiting for the other person to speak. "But I heard the coach calling you Balinski?"

"Stilinski." Stiles corrected you. "I think he gets my name wrong on purpose to belittle me." He gave a fake laugh to play it off, but you frowned.

"Stiles is a nickname." Scott added on, trying to usher Stiles away from the awkwardness of having to tell you himself. "His real first name is... really hard to pronounce, and not a lot of people at our school even know it. So - everyone just knows him as Stiles."

This brought Stiles back to a painful memory - in fourth grade, someone had seen the attendance sheet with his real name on it, and showed it to everyone else. And this had started a barrage of bullying and rumours about how he had gotten the name.

Some said that his mother hated him as soon as he was born and wanted to name him something really ugly to match him. Some said that his mother had a brain tumour and she named him in such an odd manner because her brain was 'mush' when he was born. And whenever people in the halls mockingly called him 'tumour baby' or 'brain tumour' - then he had to painfully be reminded of his mother's absence from his life.

"So you're like Mister Mxyzptlk?" You posed, a smile coming across your face from the joy of making such an apt reference.

Stiles looked at you then, unsure if he had heard you correctly - but his heart started to beat faster and he was sure that his crush developed into full, heart-stopping love in that moment.

A gorgeous, cute, sweet girl like you making such an obscure dorky reference - there was nobody else. Nobody else would ever make him feel the way you had in that moment.

Scott was entirely confused, looking between the two of you with utter dumbness across his face, wondering why Stiles' heart rate had increased so much.

"Ugh - yeah." Stiles stuttered out awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"So, is learning your real name the power to defeating you?" You posed, smoothing your voice into a sultry tone, stepping closer to Stiles, running a hand up his bare forearm - clearly flirting now. "Do I get three chances to moan it in your ear without making a mistake before you're allowed to do whatever you want to me?"

Scott regretted his super-hearing, being able to catch exactly what you said in a low whisper against Stiles's ear.

Stiles's brain was short-circuiting.

You were making nerdy references and coming onto him now. His blood was rioting between rushing to his pants and giving him a heart attack, and soon, before he could stop it, he practically shouted:

"Marry me!"

And while this would have been a colossally awkward fumble with any other girl, you simply giggled and smiled.

"You're so cute." You complimented in return, reaching out to gently 'boop' a finger against his nose.

Stiles continued to gape at you, feeling like he needed to say more, needed to communicate just how epicly wonderful you were in his eyes.

"Chocolate? Or vanilla? Our wedding cake could have 4 tiers, or we could get one of those cupcake tower things, I heard those are really trendy."

You let out another laugh, thinking that he was joking - not realising that he was already picking out an engagement ring in his head, and wondering which comic book characters you would name your children after.

"We can start with a date." You told him. "Friday. After the game."

He nodded.

"Yes, date." He agreed eagerly. "A date would be amazing."

"I have to get going now." You added on - and he felt like he was floating when you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before you departed. "See you later?"

"Everyday for the rest of our lives." Stiles mumbled quietly, entirely love-struck.

"What the hell was that?" Scott asked, still entirely baffled.

"We shall have a spring wedding." Stiles replied, his eyes still locked on your back as you walked away - clearly, he was still caught up in the euphoria of the interaction.

Scott had to drag him away.

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

What Comes After

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018 3244

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I literally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them! Edited: 10/6/24 Fixed some spelling mistakes and grammar, added a lil more flavor and tried to make it all present tense lol also this has a title on ao3 now it does here too

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in his eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walked away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed to reach him that day, but your actions didn’t. You severed the connection of your tadpoles, kept Astarion from seeing his scars. You would not be the one to allow such evils to be birthed, would not allow him to kill 7000 souls. You did not allow Astarion to become the vampire ascendant.

Astarion, hurt, broken, and lost, then choose to walk away from you and everything the two of you had built together over this adventure.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, to be precise. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hells, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

It must be night now. Your candles are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment. You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. One who could save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. He seems to reconsider what he was going to say, sighing and shaking his head before speaking again. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding. What does he see, in this room that shows the layers of your sorrow?

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.” You look to where he keeps his eyes trained. All you see is a monument of your regrets.

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. To your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him. Its bracing, in an entirely disgusting way. After all-- he was the one that did this to you. “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with everything sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours before quickly looking away once again. You realize, with much sadness, that even now as he tries to burrow into your familiar warmth, he hesitates to reach out and touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized maybe this was for the better. The thought hadn’t even occurred to you that he might consider that. That he might actually miss you too.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands. It hurts just as much as when you watched him sob after killing Cazador.

Some how, you summon new tears to cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment, settling into one anothers missed company before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand before he can get too far.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. The last time he left you, he didn’t come back… He can forgive your sudden clingyness, then, but not how you’ve let yourself go in his absence.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, choosing to trust Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, attempting to take the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you in a way you’ve needed since his departure.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair, darling.” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let him work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely through your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion lets you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watches, helpless, as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. In the bright morning light that pours in with her, all he can do is look at her with wide eyes as her mouth begins to open. Acting fast, Astarion speaks before she does.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turns from Karlach, brushing some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shadowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkably polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

[fishnapple]

How to love yourself better? A request letter from yourself. (Channelled message)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. White

Dear myself,

If I could light a fire right now, I could, just to see if that fire can compete with my light, our light. And yet I got a feeling that fire will burn brighter than us, just because it had someone to start it. But ours didn't. We stowed our fire away, our light, for fear of burning the eyes of the world? Or for fear of being engulfed in the sea of darkness outside?

Have you ever seen a solar eclipse? People gathered to watch it, a brief moment of the sun being eaten. A brief moment. Imagine how the world would be if that brief moment turned into a very long moment, an eternal one? Panic, fear, despair. We have prolonged our solar eclipse for far too long, let the Sun has its shine. Does it sound arrogant when I talk of us as the Sun? No, you should get used to it. To be the light, the be seen. Even when the Sun seems like a solitary existence on the sky, it's not, so are we.

I wanted to tell you many beautiful words, give you praises and a pat on the head. Sounds embarrassing, right? We should learn to do that more often. And then practice it with other people too, we all need it sometimes, a lot of times.

Do you know what will happen when we turn the anger on ourselves? Somehow, it will ricochet inside us and finally shoot out at other people. It's painful, for us and for them. Let's hold it in our hands, watch it breathe and stroke it gently, find where does it hurt and tend to it, then poof- it's gone. You catch anger not by throwing it around and putting it in a cage but let it heal and fly away on its own.

I'm sure that sometimes you will find yourself drowning in life, in other people's water. Losing yourself could be your worst nightmare. But you will never lose me. It's odd how we're surrounded by people but feel like we are alone in our struggle. Where did all the people go? Are they also drowning like us? In a different sea? I hope that all the seas are connected to each other so we can all find others to swim with us.

Till the next sun rise, yourself.

2. Pink

Oh, how I want to just throw away everything and run barefoot on the sand. To lie face up, watching the clouds passing by for hours. To paint the wall bright pink and yellow (this combination might hurt your eyes if you stare too long, though). But we're not a kid anymore, or so people have told us, much like how we've told ourselves, convinced ourselves to behave.

It's fascinating to watch the process of our resistance to what is taught to us. Why do we resist it so much? It feels like being gravely offended. We have our principles, and now we have to listen to others telling us what is right? What is wrong? Let me tell you, in a small whisper, it's actually nice to listen. Just listening, not obeying. It will feel like swallowing a rock. Maybe we could learn from the chickens a little, metaphorically. They swallow small rocks to aid in healthy digestion. So let's swallow some of the hard lessons.

You always like to think in concrete fashion. You try to touch your thoughts with your own hands and knead them, mould them into whatever you want. And when you're dropped into a relationship with someone, you find yourself lost that ability. It's all a jumble mess. You find your hands reaching out, grasping for something. How about the other person? Are you afraid that you will lose yourself if you hold on to them? It's fine, you won't. It's just an outdated belief that you've held on for far too long.

As we were talking about swallowing, you may want to watch what you're swallowing into your stomach, literally. Watch what you eat! Don't make yourself, ourselves suffer by bringing unhealthy things into our body. We may want to live long, you know.

Hey, if you find a dance class is too embarrassing, how about we turn off the light and dance with each other in the middle of the night. Nobody will know, but we will feel good (I'm not trying to be a flirt with myself here)

Your best friend, love.

3. Red

Make me a cup of tea, please.

Let's have a chat, just us, lying around lazily, sipping our favourite tea, imagining some weird scenarios to entertain us, playing some puzzle.

I don't have much to tell you because we talk to each other every day and I know you always try to be better for us. I love you and I'm proud of you. Let's be vain and give ourselves applause every day. Make it a pinky promise.

A reminder when you're feeling sluggish and slow, we are going to exactly where we need to be. You are guided and protected.

Keep on shining and be the little kid that runs around in the rain.

I love it when you're running wild, letting yourself, me, free, splashing colours everywhere. I just want to grab other people's hands and drag them to the dance. I love it when you're laughing, loudly, even better when you jolted others around you, oh, their surprised look, priceless.

Just be sure to take care of your body. Don't over tasking them. Work hard, play hard, but rest hard also.

Have you been thinking about going on a trip somewhere? No? Then, allow me to make a gentle request. Let me put the idea in your head. Go on, go to wherever you're thinking, there might be a surprise waiting for us, *hint: it will make our heart flutter*.

Let's make it a ritual to go on a trip every year. Let's give our mind and spirit a makeover. Dust off any tangled mess we have and prepare a space for new things to come into. I'm so excited.

It's got me thinking lately, there's this small blinking light in the back of our mind, sometimes I can see it, sometimes I can't. I want to find out what it is. It's like a signal, trying to reach us, can you feel it? Sometimes, there's this odd feeling swelling inside that you can't put your hand on and naming it. I think if we can sit still, quiet, in the dark, we could see it better. It's guiding us. To where? I got a feeling that it's somewhere deep, somewhere with a treasure, waiting for us. If we can uncover it, it will be the greatest gift that the universe has ever given us. So let's go and find it.

Love, myself.

4. Green

I have some news for you. Brace yourself for changes. They're coming, very fast, very soon. Sit yourself tight. I don't want to give spoilers, but I guess we will receive some sudden confessions or offers. What you will do with those confessions is completely your choice. You don't have to feel guilty if you don't return their feelings, my dear.

I think the way the universe is sending us this kind of surprise is telling us to reconsider our 'single' thinking mode. We have stood alone, strong and independent for so long, I think it actually makes us a little too comfortable in being alone that the thought of getting into a connection with someone can be daunting. Will we lose our freedom? What if we are dependent on them? This time, the universe is saying: 'you and your worries will not make a good journey together, break up with those worries, here, I will throw in some opportunities for you to practice '.

If you don't want romantic connection at the moment, fine, different types of connections will come. No matter what, the universe is determined to get us involved with other people. It's for our own good. I have to admit that it's hard. It's not easy to change our way of thinking and believing. So surprises will be needed.

When opportunities come, the gate is opened, we just need to receive them. Walking through the gate will feel like walking out of a confinement into the wild, lively world outside. We will be propelled into a new path that we hadn't even considered in the past. Beware of what you said in the past about how you don't want to do something, you can't imagine yourself doing something. Well, guess what, we are going to do just that, joke on us.

So, in the meantime, even if you're resisting, it's fine. Just take care of yourself, of us. Obsessive worrying can sadden our body.

Something is going away, giving space to a new energy coming in. This new energy will be softer, more loving. The harshness of the past will go away soon. Trust me.

Love, Your companion.