#some of the things y’all say have really kept me going through good times and bad

[sharkflan]

i reached another follows “milestone” and like, i know a lot of people who used to follow me are inactive and bots are a problem as well, but i just want to let y’all know how much i appreciate the people who do follow me. i see you and i see the likes and comments and it means the world to me 🥹❤️

i’ve been on tumblr since i was 16 and i’m nearly 30 now. you guys rock and i love you 🫶💕

[pinkaditty]

Holidays with Ghouls (Sho Haizono x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

please read:

okay. big news + life update: i got into a major car accident a little while ago. my first one ever! i am in a lot of pain so things may be slow-going for a while and ill be unable to commit as much time to writing due to the tangled mess that is dealing with modern insurance companies and recovering from my injuries. thankfully its not so bad to be hospitalized, but its bad enough to limit my activity for the time being. i am somewhat ashamed to ask, but if you like my writing, please consider donating to my cashapp: $cindyfromstarbucks! my car was 100% totaled, and im gonna need to save up for a new one, and my job doesn’t pay very much. thank you for your consideration! please enjoy, regardless! (this paragraph will be on my posts indefinitely, probably until i fully recover)

a/n: LET ME START THIS OFF BY SAYING IT’S ENTIRELY SELF-INDULGENT… i have a green thumb and i’ve been growing a small garden lately (limited space. i hate captialism.) and i just thought “hm. what if we grew fresh ingredients for sho’s food truck?” and the idea stuck and didn’t leave no matter how much i tried 2 shake it off. mc is basically written as me im not gonna hold y’all, but i kept it 2 a minimum so it could still be an ‘x reader’. 

summary: self-indulgent reader x sho. in which you do something nice for him and he struggles to return the favor. 

no cw! enjoy!

big fan of the “woman that is so wound up all the time and extremely professional and tries to keep everyone at arm’s length distance” x “guy that is only a few years younger than the woman but loves calling her by age-appropriate honorifics (i.e. noona, ojou, jiejie, madame, etc) and goes out of his way to teach her how to fucking relax every once in a while” trope and essentially if i were with sho that is how the relationship would go LMFAOOOOOOO

You used to have a bit of a garden before becoming a student at Darkwick. A part of you often wondered if there were people tending to your garden now so you could return to it, well kept and exactly as you remember it, when you were cured of this curse and got this anomalous ring off of you. You'd never really had the idea to plant anything here; you were much too focused on missions and other incessant errands the ghouls saw fit to send you on. You didn't like it, but held your tongue regardless. If all went well, you wouldn't have to deal with this after less than a year. 

You were fond of a few ghouls, though. Some of them were a nice reprieve from the other harsher and more selfish ghouls. Haku was a great example of that, and so was Subaru, his dorm's captain. You'd grown fond on the Jabberwock ghouls, as they were always kind and polite. You didn't really mind the Obscuary ghouls, either. Even if odd, they were good natured, and never turned you away. You appreciated that Rui had a bit of a green thumb too, and would often stop by to assist him with plant care. 

The one ghoul you were the most fond of, despite his less than agreeable best friend, was Haizono, or Sho, as he insisted on being called. Sho, despite his friend Leo, was actually pretty friendly. You enjoyed the time you spent around him, whether that was collecting supplies from the diner, or training with him, or even helping him meal prep for the following day for his food truck. It was fun, spending time with Sho. You're almost angry the idea didn't dawn on you sooner.

Said idea is why you carefully sift through the dirt in your compost container, careful not to split any of the worms with your nails. The potatoes should be done growing by now. The idea had dawned on you one day when Sho mentioned not having enough potatoes to serve fries the following day. Potatoes were an easy crop. And they took three months, at most, to grow. Sure, if worse came to worst, you'd die, but growing potatoes was a good distraction and encouraged you to plan for the future, as though you wouldn't die. After a few favors from Benji and some begging towards the chancellor, you had a small garden behind the chapel. Granted, you'd just started it three months ago, so it wasn't as full as your garden back home, but it was good enough. It was hidden from the rest of campus by the surrounding trees, ensuring no one would find the garden unless they had reason to cut around the chapel, which wasn't necessary considering the path out front. Not only did it serve as your little place of respite, it allowed you to do nice things for others. You were just growing potatoes for now, but it felt like enough of a starter, at least. You’d just planted some tomato seeds that you’d hoped Sho would also find a use for. 

Once done harvesting a substantial batch of potatoes, you wrap them up in plastic bags to look like you bought them. It would save you the embarrassment of having to explain that you’d grown them yourself. 

It’s pleasantly chilly outside, the still afternoon air heavy with promises of cold weather and a white winter holiday. Dirt remained underneath your fingernails from all that harvesting, but it was a small price to pay. Your heart pounded with anticipation and exertion as you made the trek to Vagastrom, heading for the nearby food truck. As expected, you find Sho sitting on one of his supply boxes, far underdressed for the cold weather. You can’t tell if he’s resistant to it or rebelling against it, but you can tell he’s cold. His cheeks and nose are tinged red and his eyes are squinted against the cold wind. You can even tell he’s sniffling with how often he inhales. You exhale both fondly and exasperatedly. The stubbornness of these ghouls was simultaneously attractive and irritating. 

You make it no secret you’re approaching, the bag of potatoes crinkling with your upbeat steps and your own runny nose sniffling in response to the cold wind. You place the bag of potatoes beside him with a heavy ‘thud’, to which he finally looks up, appearing jolted out of his thoughts. 

“Here,” you start, taking your scarf from around your neck and tying it around his without waiting for a reaction. “You must be an idiot to sit out in the cold with just your uniform on.”

“Senpai.” He greets you with wide eyes, watching but not protesting as you tie your scarf around his neck. He appears confused at first, his lips pursing at your actions, but seems to relent as he buries his face into the scarf. You watch as he settles into it, his eyes sliding shut against the cold wind, his nose and lips finding warm solace in the comfort of your scarf. Before long, he pulls it away, revealing himself back to the chilly air with a slight wince. “...No need. Thank you, though.” He glances up at you with a smile before rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. “Whatcha got here?” He gestures to the plastic bag before picking it up, far more effortlessly than you, and inspecting it. 

“Potatoes.” Your breath puffs out in a white cloud. “They’re for your food truck. I remembered you mentioned you were running low, so… I decided to help and buy you some.” At some point, you’d shifted your attention to the ground, toeing at a rock as you realized how ridiculous that sounded. Surely Sho could handle himself. He might even find your help embarrassing, when you really think about it. 

You sneak a glance at him and are relieved to see a small smile on his face as he observes the potatoes. He huffs out a light breath, his face visibly softening. “You didn’t have to do that.” He slings the bag over his shoulder, using his other hand to ruffle your hair and return the scarf. “Come on,” he turns around, headed for the door of the food truck. “You can help me prep.”

‘That’s only helpful if you’ll have any customers in this cold,’ you think to yourself, but decide not to say aloud. Instead, you watch the slow smile on his face as he nods towards you, and continues towards the truck. Crazy, how a simple glance of his could make your heart race. Something about the warmth of his smile, the feel of his fingers carding through your hair, and the leftover scent of his cologne lingering on your scarf tugged at your heart, just a little bit. 

You briskly follow after him, throwing the scarf back over his neck. “Keep it,” you say sternly, watching as he turns to you quizzically. “Have you seen the state of yourself in this cold?” The phrase ‘I want you to have it,’ lingers on your tongue, but you decide not to voice that, instead letting a small amused smile rest on your face. You vaguely gesture to him, your gaze flicking to his red cheeks and nose. He rolls his eyes, noting your point, and keeps the scarf around his neck, opening the side door to his food truck.

“Alright, fine. I’ll wash it and return it.”

As he steps inside the food truck, even from standing behind him you feel a wave of warmth. You follow, stepping inside, feeling the sweet relief of pleasant warm air and smelling the scent of roast chicken. The environment is warm and cozy, wrapping around you like a cushy blanket or a hug from a loved one. Sho closes the door behind you and you note your scarf is still around his neck. Something clicks.

“Wait a minute. You won’t need that.” You point to his scarf, your nose crinkling in mock displeasure. He instinctively flinches away, looking at you with a raised brow. He was seemingly already protective of your scarf, even though he’d only just received it. “Hand it over.”

“That’s hardly fair.” A crooked smile forms on Sho’s face and his brow raises higher. “Why do you assume I won’t need it?”

Indignantly, you gesture to the warm space surrounding you. Sizzling meat, a warm oven, and heaters in a corner, adjusting the temperature of the truck. “Vagastrom is literally right next to here. What do you need that for?”

He doesn’t answer directly, instead tilting his head at you. “I seem to remember a certain someone insisting I keep this scarf. Are you going to go back on your word?”

You clamp your mouth shut, remembering what you’d said and did earlier. He was right, you had insisted, even if only a little. You huff out a frustrated breath, crossing your arms and furrowing your brows. He laughs at your display, pulling the scarf off of him and tossing it on a high shelf of boxes you couldn’t reach. “Like I said, I’ll wash it and return it.”

You decide to swallow this loss. You had other scarves at the chapel anyway, and if he was going to use it, at least it wasn’t going to waste. 

You look around the space again before taking off your coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the door. “Any plans for winter break? Will you be going anywhere?” 

“Nah.” Sho shook his head, checking on the chicken in the small oven before continuing to stir fry a vegetable medley on the stove, jutting his shoulder out towards the cutting board, covered in various vegetables. You wash your hands before heading over, carefully scraping at the dirt built up under your fingernails from digging. “Unless my… brother… goes, I’m not going. He’ll beat my ass if I don’t and he does.” A look of displeasure crosses Sho’s face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the thought of Professor Hyde chastising Sho for not seeing his family over break. 

You head over to the vegetables laid out on the cutting board, and start with the garlic, peeling it out of its husk. “Sounds like a struggle.”

He scoffs, pouring soy sauce over the vegetables and tossing them before scraping them off on a nearby to-go container. “Holidays are always a struggle with pushy family.” Despite his outward scowl, amusement lights up his eyes for a moment. 

You chuckle, having finished chopping up the garlic and moving to a green bell pepper. You slice it open, its seeds spilling onto the cutting board. “Your family’s pushy?”

“Yes, too pushy sometimes.” Sho shakes his head, shooing you to the side as he grabs potholders to pull the chicken out of the oven. “My brother’s more like my parents than I am.” He carefully places the roast chicken down on a short counter. It’s golden brown, stuffed with rosemary sprigs, lemon slices, and garlic cloves. 

He places it to the side, readying the frying pain and reaching for the peppers you’d chopped, tossing them into the oil. You finish a pepper and reach for a leek next, slicing it into thick chunks. Your eyes flicker back over to the chicken momentarily, rosemary stems sticking out of it like a tail. “The rosemary stems look like a chicken tail.” You voice the thought absentmindedly, smiling to yourself. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sho glance over at the chicken himself. You hear a huffed laugh as he returns his attention to the peppers, sizzling in the oil. “Yeah, it does.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “Speaking of, it was hard to find fresh rosemary this time around.”

You look up, having finished cutting the leek. A confused expression crosses your face. “Where in the world would you find fresh rosemary in the dead of winter?” You look away, reaching for a carrot, slicing it thinly.

“Rosemary’s an evergreen,” Sho states flatly, reaching for the leek and garlic you cut earlier, mixing it in with the batch of peppers on the stove and stirring them. “You can find that fresh anytime. What’s harder to find, however…” Sho trails off, leaving the stove for a split second, reaching for the bag of your potatoes he’d placed on the ground earlier. He opens the bag and pulls one out, some dirt still stuck in the indents of its skin. “...Is fresh potatoes. They’re typically harvested in the fall.” He smiles at you, before turning away to rinse it off.

Realizing you’d been caught in a lie, you turn away from him, putting all of your focus on the carrot in front of you. You hear his footsteps slowly approaching before he places a freshly washed potato right in front of you, his hand shaking with mirth. 

“Come on, MC. Don’t think I didn’t notice the dirt under your fingernails.” He chuckles before turning back to the stove, stirring the vegetables again. You drop the knife with a clatter and hide your hands behind your back, too nervous to check if you’d missed any spots. 

You sneak a glance up at him, mistakenly making eye contact with him. His eyes gleam with amusement and his smile is soft and fond. “...It can’t have been that obvious.” You decide to admit to it, realizing the heat in your cheeks probably gave it away. 

“It wasn’t.” Sho nods to you, pouring soy sauce over the stir-fried mixture and tossing it before scraping that off in a different to-go container. “I just happened to notice the dirt when you handed the scarf to me, and your potatoes smelled extra earthy.” He takes the pan off the heat, moving over to the chicken and carefully cutting out the breast. 

It’s silent for a few moments, you staring at that freshly cleaned potato and Sho slicing through the chicken, placing the breast in one to-go container and the wings in the other. Sho finally speaks up, though his voice is low. “...You didn’t have to do that, you know.” You look up again, just to find him turned away from you, his ears turning red. Silence falls again as you watch him check off the to-go containers he’s finished. You assume he’s trying to distract himself from the obvious blush on his face, but you can’t say for sure. Something about it makes you feel similar, your heart rate picking up and your face reddening more. It wasn’t due to your embarrassment anymore. “I dunno, I’m bad at thanking people. Just, well…” Sho trails off, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, hiding his face from you. His voice lowers significantly, and contrastingly, the blush on his ears brightens more. “Thank you. I know potatoes take a while to grow. And…” He trails off again and swallows thickly. You don’t bother asking him to finish his sentence. The implications of his words grow somewhat heavy in your heart, and you wring your fingers nervously. Of course it was profound, growing potatoes for someone when you’re doomed to die, now in nine months. The thought of dedicating your time to anything that wasn’t curing your curse was odd, but this distraction had done you well nonetheless. You didn’t want Sho to feel bad about it at all. You were certain that, if anything, the gravity of being recognized by a girl doomed to die was dawning on him. 

The words spill out before you can really stop them. “Don’t worry about it, Sho. I did that because I wanted to.” Confessing this was almost as raw as confessing your feelings, and your chest tightens at that thought, but you continue despite that. “You’ve been kind to me since after our first mission. And I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, including things as mundane as meal prep!” You gesture vaguely to the setting before you, hoping to get your point across. “I just randomly had the idea, and figured it couldn’t be so bad to act on it. It’s been a good distraction anyway, and what with all that happens here, a distraction does me some good.” Silence falls once more, and Sho finally turns to look at you, face flushed. He wipes his palms on his apron and worries his lip between his teeth, his gaze flickering between you and the floor. “...So what if I used up three months to grow potatoes? The time will pass anyways.” You turn away from him, looking at the washed potato. You reach for it and pick up the knife, beginning to cut it into cube chunks. 

“...I guess you’re right.” You can hear a gentle smile in Sho’s voice, and it warms you up internally, feeling thankful he’s accepted the gift. You glance towards him, giving him a smile, and catch him staring. There’s an odd glimpse of admiration in his eyes, which makes your cheeks warm.

“Go on and finish cutting the chicken.” You wave off his stare and jerk your gaze away from him, hiding your blush and focusing on the cubed potato. 

He scoffs and turns away, picking up his knife. “Giving me orders in my own kitchen, huh?” 

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. The warmth of the heaters settles into your skin and the warmth of the previous pleasant conversation settles into your heart. You glance down at the bag of potatoes that started it all. The eyes of the potatoes seem to stare up at you knowingly.

You’re carrying a short stack of to-go containers outside to Sho’s bike, Bonnie, your boots crunching the frosty path beneath you. Snow would surely be coming soon. You gently place the stack in the box on the back of Bonnie, careful to make sure none of them tip over. You hear more crunching footsteps and turn around to see Sho, carrying the rest of the boxes. He places them in the box as well and organizes them before securing the box with a few straps. He steps back and exhales, smiling to himself. You can’t help but smile at his pride.

“Now, to deliver these…” Sho approaches Bonnie and gets on, patting her twice affectionately. The gentle thrum of the engine comes to life in response. He looks to you and smiles, and you notice he’s wearing your scarf. “Sure you don’t want a ride back to the chapel?”

You eye the box of food already on the back of Bonnie and shake your head. You wouldn’t test fate today. Your eyes find your scarf again, sitting snugly around Sho’s neck. “Well, at least you have a use for it.” You say, resigned. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get it back. 

Sho smiles, reaching up to touch the scarf. “Again, I’ll wash and return it.” He looks up to the sky, and you follow suit, noting the pale white blanket of clouds blocking the sun. “That said…” He starts, lowering his gaze to you again. “It is cold out. I may need this for longer than I expected.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and his smile turns crooked, as though suppressing a smirk. 

“...I’m not getting that back, am I?”

Sho shrugs, revving up Bonnie. “Who knows?” He smiles fondly at you one last time before speeding off, the wheels of Bonnie leaving tire tracks on the frosty path. You watch him as he leaves, his hair lifting in the wind, the tendrils of your scarf billowing behind him. You watch until he turns a corner and you can only faintly hear the rumbling of Bonnie’s engine. ‘I guess he really did have customers, even in this cold…’ You think to yourself, a faint smile growing on your face. You inhale the crisp cool air, feeling a bit cooler around your neck now that you’re missing a scarf. You idly look back up at the sky again, wondering if it really would snow today. Despite you enjoying the stillness of the winter air on Darkwick campus, the cold eventually bites at you, urging you to return to the chapel. Your footsteps crunch along the frosted path, following Bonnie’s tracks.

It’s Christmas evening, and things are finally winding down for the day. You’d been to Frostheim and made snow angels with Luca and Kaito, had coffee and played chess with Tohma, and Jin, despite himself, hadn’t asked you to run any errands for him today. You’d been to Vagastrom and exchanged gifts with Alan, tolerated Leo’s selfies with you, and looked around for Sho, but hadn’t found him. You’d been to Jabberwock and fed the animals with Haru, watched a romance movie with Towa, and played a holiday-themed horror game with Ren. You’d been to Sinostra and done some gambling with Taiga while Ritsu tagged along to ensure Sinostra’s reputation wasn’t damaged further, and had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Romeo despite him saying your large coat made you resemble a slug. You’d been to Hotarubi and had tea and holiday sweets with Haku, Subaru, Zenji, and Lyca, who was visiting Subaru. You’d been to Obscuary and had Rui’s new holiday-themed drinks with Ed, chattering time away at the bar. You’d been to Mortkranken and reluctantly exchanged gifts with Yuri, aware of the fit he’d throw if you hadn’t gotten him anything, and pleasantly exchanged gifts with Jiro, reminding him to take good care of himself. 

Finally, after a very long, exhausting, and eventful day, you were back at the chapel, counting the vines growing under your skin, glowing lavender like the flower on the back of your neck. Some small flowers broke your skin and bloomed here and there, leaving the exit wounds somewhat inflamed. Granted, you didn’t have much time left, and these vines made that clear, but this holiday had been much better than you’d expected it to be. You appreciated the effort most of the ghouls put forth to make this holiday at least somewhat enjoyable for you, especially considering it may be your last. 

You sit by the fireplace in your room, watching the snow fall from the sky through your window. You had a tiny pine tree near your bed, decorated with handmade tinsel from the three Hotarubi ghouls and some small ornaments from Jin. You wore new pajamas from Romeo, though you weren’t sure how in the world he knew your size. You had a new bracelet from Taiga, who had originally forgotten who he’d gotten it for. On your nightstand lay a dreidel from Kaito and a snow globe from Luca. The hot chocolate you sipped on was a gift from Tohma, and some wine awaited you in your fridge, a gift from the Obscuary ghouls. You had a few new ugly holiday sweaters from various ghouls, Yuri and Ren included, and some not-so-ugly ones, thanks to Haru and Towa. A thick, heavy book about the origins of the laws of Japan sat on a nearby table, a gift from Ritsu that you had no plans to read. You had lit a scented candle from Leo, which you thought was surprisingly thoughtful, and had set aside the wax melts from Alan, planning to use them after the candle ran out. The new watch from Jiro was wrapped around your wrist, displaying the increasingly late time. In all of this, you wondered where your gift from Sho was. You hadn’t been able to spot him today, and the thought made you feel a little down. You’d wanted to spend some time with him today, but guessed he was probably too busy preparing Christmas dinner for all of Vagastrom and Hotarubi that he simply hadn’t had the time. You set your hot chocolate down on top of the accursed thick book and sprawl out in your chair, turning to the window again. Regardless, this had been a surprisingly wonderful holiday. The ghouls had given you gifts and willingly spent time with you, doing various fun activities and filling you with holiday cheer. It was a nice escape from the reality of your situation, even if it was only for a little while. 

You check the vines under your skin again, resisting the urge to scratch at where a new white flower had bloomed near your elbow. You could feel that, soon after the holiday season mellowed down, it would be back to reality, and you’d have to face your own death once again. Part of you dreaded the eventual change in weather and in the length of days, knowing your predicted end was growing near. But a part of you was also resigned to it. Regardless of whether you were due to die soon or not, this had been a nice holiday. And you could stand to live in the now, just this once. 

You carefully pluck the flower from your skin, wincing at the sharp pain. You bleed for only a few moments before it clots up. At least you could stave off the growth of the curse for now. 

You hear a gentle knock at your door. Physically, you’re too exhausted to have much more fun at this point, but mentally, you could use a pick-me-up. You head down your stairs towards the door, opening it crack by crack, trying to prevent too much of the cold wind from slipping inside. You peer through the open doorway, jolting in surprise when a familiar pair of dark blue eyes meet yours. 

“Hey,” Sho starts, lifting two boxes in his hands. “Thought you could use a warm holiday dinner.”

Your heart swells and all at once, a wave of emotion hits you. Sure, you didn’t have much time left, but that didn’t stop these ghouls from caring, and that was evident in the gifts piled up in your room, the fun you’d had all throughout the day, and the ghoul now standing at your doorstep, seeking more time with you. There was a reason he was your favorite. 

You swing the door open wider, unable to hide the smile that breaks across your face all at once. “I was looking for you, you know.” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes in mock disappointment. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“Cooking.” Sho lifts a brow and shrugs, tilting his head at you. He smiles fondly at you, and you notice he’s finally dressed appropriately for the season; a hat covering most of his hair, a matching coat and gloves keeping him warm, and your scarf, tucked snugly against his neck inside his coat. Yet again, you realize you are probably never getting that scarf back. 

“That scarf is still mine.” You gesture at his scarf, and he laughs, reaching up to brush the built up snow off of it. 

“And I’m still using it.” He replies, smiling wider. “So… Gonna let me in or what? It’s cold out here.” His breath puffs into white clouds, and you notice his cheeks and nose are tinged red again thanks to the cold. You smile and step aside, letting him in. 

You close the door behind him and he shakes off the snow built up on his coat. When he looks at you, his smile holds the warmth of a thousand candles and his voice holds the joy of a thousand holiday carols. “So… got any mistletoe? If not, we can start with gifts. Either works for me.” A blush covers his face as he pushes the boxes towards you, his smile growing wider and fonder.

You figure, regardless of how much time you have left, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a holiday with your favorite ghoul.

Bonus:

The gift, wrapped surprisingly delicately inside one of the boxes, is a knitted scarf in your favorite colors. It’s not bad, but you can tell it was done by a beginner. Holding it in your hands, a small smile grows on your face, and you sigh, totally resigned. 

By god, you are never getting that scarf back. 

“Well, thank you for your collateral replacement, but I expect that scarf back one day.”

Sho shakes his head, smiling as he chews on your shared meal, packed in the other box he was carrying. “No can do. It’s still cold and I still need a scarf.”

“I’m withholding the mistletoe, then.”

Sho huffs, rolling his eyes and continuing the meal. At his lack of a reaction, you purse your lips, thinking of another thing to withhold that might gift you a victory. Sho speaks, having swallowed his mouthful, “I can find other reasons to kiss you-”

“I’m withholding the potatoes.”

Sho looks at you in shock, dropping his forkful back onto his plate. “...I’ll think about it.”

Maybe you would get that scarf back, after all.

----------

a/n: it's done. finally it is done. finally! i've been writing this romance fic 4 a long while so im glad it is finally done

thank you all so much for reading!! as usual, i love likes, but especially comments, reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work!!! please feel free 2 fill up my inbox with whatever, i love talking 2 u all! but be warned my responses will be slow... im still recovering!

happy holidays 2 you all! i hope, whether you're surrounded by family, friends, or by yourself, that it's a wonderful and fulfilling holiday season 4 u. merry christmas 2 those who celebrate, and happy kwanzaa 2 those who celebrate that as well!! not very well versed in other winter holidays, but may they be joyous and merry!

[ghosts-and-glory]

Some Narinder character analysis for y’all.

This is a slightly re-edited excerpt from a much longer post of mine where I was specifically trying to provide a rebuttal to someone else. I’m kinda proud of some of my takes here and the write up took me hours so I’m gonna repost it here on its own.

I’m going into specifically into Narinder’s

Speech patterns and way of expressing emotions.

Implications of his post defeat dialogue

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Feelings on Ratau’s death

And a little extra on why do we “babygirl” Narinder

Full analysis under the cut.

The way Narinder expresses his positive feelings

First I gotta establish Narinder’s voice. Narinder seems almost incapable of giving a genuine compliment especially without turning it into something about himself.

Here’s three examples of him giving a complement to The Lamb. Taken from after defeating Amdusias and Shamura. He also complements The Lamb when you sacrifice Ratau but I’ll come back around to that.

I wanted to grab the entire quotes so it didn’t look like I was nitpicking.

"Very good, my vessel. It seems I chose well when I kept you from Death.”

First example, “very good,” is the complement, but immediately after he takes credit for this by calling you “my vessel” thereby claiming ownership over you. His vessel did well. And again “I chose well” doubled down and complemented himself.

“I admit, you have worn it (the red crown) almost as well as I could have myself.”

Again we see the complement layered in ego. “Almost as well as I” in other words you did well, but don’t forget I’m better. Also important to draw attention to is “I admit” this is a very explicit statement of his refusal to acknowledge the success of others.

"Your appetite for death is something I can admire, Vessel. But the Crown is mine, and none - NONE - are worthy. None other than I.”

Here he almost lays down a complement. “Your appetite for death is something I can admire” straight up, states his admiration. He seems to almost realize what he’s done and quickly pulls back into his ego, “But the crown is mine” “-none are worthy- None other than I.”

These are the three of the four ONLY times that Narinder ever says anything explicitly positive about someone else when he is a god. Thus establishing that the head ass cannot give out a compliment to save his life. The one time he gives you full credit for your actions he immediately pulls right back into his ego.

I cannot stress this enough. Someone who is characterized as cold and emotionally closed off as Narinder is WILL NOT suddenly undo this characteristic when they try and express a positive feeling.

Okay with that established we can look at his follower dialogue. Specifically these two examples from when you resurrect a follower and allow him to go on a mission.

“I cannot begrudge supplantation by one such as yourself.”

Literally saying I don’t resent you for taking my place. It’s not an explicit statement that he respects you but this is he weird fucked up little way of saying it. Of course he still lays it out in a way that’s self centred but we know from the way he has spoken that this is about as much verbal praise he is capable of giving.

The other one is a less explicit statement but I think it’s a interesting reflection of the final place of his character.

“…my thanks, Lamb.”

Being his last bit of unique dialogue, it’s an incredible ending to a character. He thanks you. That’s all he needed to say.

Narinder’s reaction to his defeat that he would rather die.

Let’s go over his dialogue in some depth.

"You weak, snivelling, foul thing. You - wait! Waaaiiiiiit!"

I’m starting with this line as it compels me the most. I find that there are two separate readings of this and I can’t really point to one above the other. On my play through I had assumed his wailing was more in reference to being denied death. It could also be read as him not wanting to be reduced to a follower and realizing what your mercy really means for his future.

“-are you to be a vengeful false idol, or a merciful coward? No longer can you blame your vile acts on me."

Okay, looking at the way he presents your two options he seems to push more for the murder action. “-vengeful false idol,” is how he refers to murder. It’s not exactly a glowing review but his use of the word vengeful is important. We know that one of Narinder’s main goals in the game is revenge, we he already acts with revenge I can’t say that he’s using this word as an insult. The false idol part of this statement seems like he’s attempted to separate himself from you, again for is ego.

Then he presents the spare option by calling you a “merciful coward.” The flow of this full sentence puts more pressure on this option. He presents it as the “or” the second option. This is the bad option, the option of a coward.

“So. vou are no different to me after all. You have become as I am."

I know this is a deranged order to go over these quotes but last we got murder. Compared to his spare dialogue this is incredibly sombre. We know from already establishing how big his ego is that saying you are the same as him is almost a compliment. I do find this dialogue incredibly interesting tho, I can’t exactly explain why but I can’t help but read this as damning as well. It’s like he means it in both ways, the ultimate fuck you. You are just as I am, for better and worse.

But from what we know about Narinder his edgy ass cannot express emotion. He wraps his statements in layers of irony and selfishness. Unless it supports the persona he puts on or inflates his ego he WILL NOT right out state his feelings or needs, especially when he was a chained god.

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Aym and Baal are incredibly hard to characterize. They don’t have much dialogue to work off of and only three characters every speak on them, Shamura, Narinder and Forneus. The context of the game does present them as more Narinder’s first (and second) hand, less followers more apprentices, almost, but where’s the fun in assuming.

"Intended as keepers, perhaps, but they were young and in need of guidance. Must I be blamed for my influence?"

I wanna draw attention to the specific wording of keepers. Again, based on the way Narinder speaks its safe to assume he means the formal meaning of a keeper, meaning a caretaker. It is unclear if Narinder was told they where his keepers or if he assumed so, but either way he still speaks on them as such.

For the sake of argument (and I don’t wanna rewrite this bit entirely) I’m gonna put the idea that Narinder brainwashed Aym and Baal against my presented idea of them being his keepers or apprentices.

The proposed idea of the brainwashing angle can be developed based on Narinder saying that “they where young and in need of guidance, must I be blamed for my influence.” This implies that, as much as Aym and Baal may have been sent as keepers, they where still young and Narinder could not help but be an influence on them. I am gonna come back around to this thread so hold onto this for a moment. Moving on.

“Two kits I did have, true love found! And yet one lackadaisy summer day, my beautiful children were taken away... a gift, they said, for the one they loved most, the one that waits...”

“Ooh, kits... I remember, I remember... two kits in my claws... a gift.."

It is unclear and morally dubious how Aym and Baal came to Narinder. First we’re not 100% where Narinder is chained. The wiki lists it as the afterlife and in dialogue Narinder refers to it as “at the gates between this life and the next, trapped at the nexus of what was and what wasn't.” (When he asks you to send him on a mission.) We can travel there both by dying and being summoned there by him.

Either way the assumption is that Aym and Baal had to die. (As an aside I have my own speculation on the conditions required for a person to be presented to Narinder or to be resurrected but that’s off topic.) The horrific implications being that either Shamura themself killed the kits or that they where already dying. However you cannot blame the reaper for ushering the dead away from life.

I’m going to work off of the cult specific definition and characteristics of brainwashing. It’s hard to characterize where Aym and Baal sit here as, again they have little dialogue and due to the nature of brainwashing it’s hard to spot. First I wanna grab my brainwashing resources.

I’m using Encyclopedia Britannica’s page on brainwashing, cults, indoctrination, manipulation as my primary resourse.

Again I kinda wanna apply a layer of irony to how literally I apply real life tragedy to this game that obviously uses cults in a comedic manner. I wanna focus in on the characteristics displayed by victims of brainwashing and the techniques used in brainwashing by an abuser.

Looking at the elements used in brainwashing the only one I can say off the bat that is present is isolation, obviously. But with that let’s grab all of Aym and Baal’s dialogue.

What is clear from their dialogue is their obedience to Narinder. They call him master while his keepers and still when you meet them later when adventuring. And physically we do see them by Narinder’s side the entire main game and they fight the Lamb first. But if we add some nuance and look at their role as keepers or my own theory of being apprentices both actions of obedience make sense still for those roles. On the same note they also don’t display traits you would expect for someone fully under Narinder’s control. They speak to the Lamb out of turn and attack without prompting from Narinder.

Other characteristics are hard to imply. With torture I do want to pass it off an unlikely as based on the way Narinder tries to manipulate the Lamb it’s only verbal and he cannot attack while chained and I don’t see that changing with the keepers. Traits like sleep, water and food deprivation can’t be applied for various reasons (mostly the being dead one) and we don’t know anything about Narinder and the keeper’s interactions in the past so I’ll have to disregard other traits like suggestion.

Baal: "It's you. Usurper of the Red Crown. The one who freed us."

Aym: "Ha! You are nothing compared to our Master. We have not been in this world long, but already I can tell you are weak. You lack discipline. Our Master wielded Death with precision and control. You allow chaos to reign."

Baal: "What my brother means to say is thank you."

Moving onto groupthink I can pretty comfortably say that this is not a present characteristic of Aym and Baal. In their limited dialogue we can easily characterize Aym as more outwardly defensive of Narinder but Baal is more reserved and even contradicts Aym and is able to speak freely of Narinder.

Looping back around to the way Narinder speaks on his influence on Aym and Baal. Again we know how Narinder speaks, he cannot give honest compliments and dodges affection like it’s a professional sport. With the way he will outright tell the Lamb to manipulate followers and then uses the words “guidance” and “influence” about Aym and Baal, he has to be avoiding admitting affection to the keepers. He does follow that up with “Do what you wish, scornful God. I care not for them.” But again does Forneus not also allow her kits to do as they wish?

My own reading of Narinder’s relation to Aym and Baal is that of mentorship but it could also be read as parental. But saying brainwashed is a big stretch.

His feelings on the death of Ratau

This is like another example of like, yeah, wow, an evil character does evil? Who could’ve possibly foreseen this? Sarcasm aside I do see his comments on this being a lesser evil.

First I do have to ask why, if Narinder held strong sense of unrest against his former vessel, did he not have him struck down? The main reason I can see is that Ratau is still devoted to the red crown, most clearly seen by the statue at the lonely shack which generates devotion.

Second, Ratau’s death isn’t on his hands, it’s on yours. I find his pride here is from The Lamb’s actions not the death of Ratau. You killed your mentor, he describes your actions as “treacherous opportunism” and says “A great Vessel takes their master's will as their own.” Based on his later dialogue this is likely more foreshadowing the Lamb becoming as Narinder is. Narinder tried to kill his siblings, and you did kill your mentor. “You have become as I am."

I’m gonna tangent quickly cause there’s a line here that is incredibly interesting.

"He renounced his position after striking a bargain that resulted in the sacrifice of a Follower. He was weak."

Incredibly interesting the way he condemns Ratau’s sacrifice of a follower. Narinder directly contradicts himself. It is implied that the follower was lost to another being that did not benefit Narinder, but the Lamb also sacrifices followers to the Fox and Midas. Just something to chew on.

Why do we “babygirl” Narinder and other evil characters?

This is kinda the last bit I’m gonna get into before I cap this off. It is incredibly funny for me to say “I babygirl Narinder” only to get a reply that’s like “I don’t think you babygirl him on purpose.” But I wanna talk about why this happens and why it happened to specifically Narinder.

When people complain about the fandom interpretation of Narinder I think they forget the tone of cult of the lamb. The closest thing I could think to call it would be a dark comedy kinda energy.

The game has very dark themes going on. Mentions of real horrible things like genocide, cults and religious abuse. But also just like look at the game, it’s visual style is so cute and non threatening, the bird characters have two mouths to commit to the bit. If you look at the way it depicts cults it’s very surface level, it’s more focused on being a satire on the common satanic media kinda look of a cult. Visually it bathes in its aesthetics, taking names from books like The Lessee Key of Solomon, uses villainous depictions of symbols like the pentagram or old Hebrew script, disregarding its nuanced origins.

And then they go onto do the funniest thing ever. The other bishop’s? Gross little freaks, based on commonly disliked animals, worm, frog, squid and spider. And then- and then they make the god of death, who they characterize and manipulative and evil, they make him a catboy. You cannot tell me they did not know what they where doing.

Why have I shot Narinder with the babygirl beam? CAUSE THE GAME DID IT FIRST!

I’m gonna call the god of death my little meow meow and point out his status as a Tumblr sexy man cause he’s a little guy and I wanna give him head scritches. But I’m also gonna call him a layered, fucked up and an incredibly interesting character in the same breath.

[thechildofshadows]

PARTNERS IN WINE

Avery Grambs x Jameson Hawthorne - 2.1k

masterlist

Hello and a Happy St. Patrick's Day to all who celebrate! Here's the promised 'Jameson takes care of drunk!Avery' fic, @saythewordheiress. You did not ask me to write it, but I have done so anyway! (because I like doing fun things, especially if it means skiving off schoolwork!) Let me know if you guys want a part two, because I think I set it up pretty well to write a chapter for Grayson and Lyra. This is different from what I usually write, so the quality might be worse. This fic, as I said earlier, is one where Jameson takes care of a drunk Avery. She's drunk for about half the fic and hungover for the other half, so if you don't like reading about people being drunk, or people throwing up ... wrong place, I will see you next week! It is also partially a chat-fic ... you'll see what I mean, because it alternates between actual storytelling and texting. It sounds bad rn, just read it. If you hate the texting, there is actual writing, and if you hate the writing, there is texting. Have fun!

CONVERSATION: KEVIN, JOE, NICK AND THE BONUS JONAS

NASH: Alright you’re going to love this

JAMESON: am i

NASH: Maybe not

NASH: so you know how the girls had a night here

JAMESON: yes

JAMESON: get to the point nash

NASH: there was some rum involved

GRAYSON: Is anyone dead, bleeding, or currently in the hospital?

NASH: no

GRAYSON: Then what’s the problem?

JAMESON: you text like a karen

XANDER: Nash hesitates to tell you, so I shall!

XANDER: They got really drunk.

NASH: …

NASH: Y’all have been quiet for a while

NASH: I’m not afraid of a fight

NASH: I have Oren

GRAYSON: Oren won’t help.

JAMESON: they’re not hurt, jfc calm down loverboy

JAMESON: how much is really drunk?

NASH: like a lot.

NASH: Avery and Max kept drinking after Libby stopped

NASH: they’ve gone through a lot of bottles.

XANDER: Avery recited Shakespeare off the top of her head

JAMESON: do you know which one

XANDER: A Midsummer’s Night Dream

XANDER: The queen’s monologue

JAMESON: omg she was learning it last week for that lit course

NASH: Gotta say

NASH: if this whole inheritance thing stops working out

NASH: she has a future in theater.

GRAYSON: From one solo?

NASH: hey she and Lyra got a pretty good recital of Hamlet in

NASH: they sound better than you do when you’re sober

JAMESON: i think gray might cry lmfao

GRAYSON: I’m not.

Jameson’s favorite thing (person) in the world was Avery Kylie Grambs.

That being said, he had no idea how to handle the woman while she was drunk. And in denial.

“Look, I’ve walked in a straight line, and … and I got back home fine. I’m not thaaaaat drunk.”

Jameson looked at Avery, who has tucked herself into his side. “Oren drove you here, and that line was definitely not straight.”

“It was …” she mumbled. She tried to take a few steps by herself, and fell over against Jameson, who wrapped an arm around her torso to steady her.

“Jesus Christ, how much did you drink?” Avery had a pretty high tolerance for alcohol, and her liver probably died three times over for her to be this drunk.

“I’m not Jesus, I’m Saint Avery, remember?” Her voice slurred as they reached the stairs. Avery tried moving, but she tripped on the first stair and nearly brought Jameson down with her.

Okay, that plan is out the window. Jameson hooked an arm around her legs, and lifted her in a bridal carry, walking away from the stairs.

“Where’re we going?” her words were basically mush at this point, but Jameson was able to make them out.

“Your room is pretty high up, Heiress, and we are taking the shorter route.” He stopped at a random point in a hallway, and tapped it three times. The wall slid away, and revealed an elevator.

Jameson put Avery down, and half-pushed her into the elevator. He clicked the button for her floor, and kept her within his arms as the elevator. It was a pretty short ride, but the sudden stop (which was pretty smooth) caused Avery to lose what little balance she had, and nearly fall over.

Jameson saved her from an encounter with the floor. Again.

She was still putting her full weight on him, so he picked her up again.

As they were walking to her room, she started giggling.

“What’s so funny?”

“You!”

Jameson had no idea what she was talking about. “What?”

Avery giggled again. “Like that. You’re funny. And pretty. Like really pretty.”

Jameson nudged at the side of her head with his nose. “Just pretty?”

“Yeah. Really pretty.” She rested her head against his chest.

“I thought you’d say I’m sexy.”

“That too.”

As soon as she reached her bed, she fell asleep. She was already in pjs, and it didn’t seem worth waking her up again to get fully ready for bed.

Jameson, who had been in bed fiddling with a puzzle Xander gave him, had already been in ‘sleep mode’ for the past hour. After making sure Avery was underneath a blanket and wasn’t about to fall off the bed, throw up, choke on said throw up or all three, he got in beside her, and was surprised that Avery promptly attached herself to his side.

“You’re not really asleep, are you, Heiress?” He asked with a smirk.

She pulled him closer. “I … love you.”

Jameson gave an amused smile and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you too.”

She didn’t respond, and Jameson figured she was truly asleep.

“Good night, Avery.”

Avery woke up the next morning- and ran straight to the bathroom.

Jameson was sitting on the counter next to the sink, as if he had been waiting there, but she barely acknowledged him as she bent over the toilet. He held her hair back as she threw up, and rubbed circles in her back. His touch was gentle, and Avery would've appreciated it more if she hadn't been spilling the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

“Good morning, Heiress.” he said with a smirk once she was done.

She shot him a glare, but quickly looked away as her head began pounding. “Don’t even try.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He joined her on the floor, placing a kiss on her temple, and offered her a bottle of water.

She began to drink it, and felt her headache ease somewhat. She leaned into Jameson and closed her eyes, taking a minute to relax and allow herself to slow down. With the nausea out of the way, she felt closer to sleep than ever.

She checked the clock on the wall. 9:45.

It was still too early for her.

"Woah." Jameson tapped her hand. "You're not sleeping until you've had something to eat."

"What?"

Jameson shrugged. "You're probably going to throw up again when you wake up, you might as well have something to throw up instead of pure stomach acid. You're lucky you ate before drinking last night, otherwise you would be in significantly worse shape."

She opened her mouth to respond, but she felt her stomach turn, and quickly dove for the toilet. Jameson held her hair back as she threw up bile, and kept dry heaving. She almost collapsed against the toilet and felt Jameson tie her hair and walk out of the bathroom. Avery wondered if she was in such bad shape that he couldn’t even be around her.

Avery tried to move, but her vision went temporarily black as she got up, and she wobbled for a second before catching the countertop. "Ow."

“How much did you end up drinking last night?” Jameson re-entered the bathroom and helped her sit on the countertop, giving her a bottle.

That’s why he left.

Avery noticed it was Gatorade rather than water and raised an eyebrow.

“You need the extra hydration, don’t look at me like that.”

Avery would’ve rolled her eyes. She instead decided to open the Gatorade bottle, but lacked the energy to actually open it.

“And she said she didn’t drink at all last night.” Jameson gave her a smirk -oh god, how could he be hot and helpful and unhelpful so early in the morning?- and helped her tip the bottle into her mouth.

She finally found the strength to talk. “Did I really say that last night?”

“Among other things.” He stood between her legs, and gently took the bottle from her, capping it as he moved it to the side.

Avery poked his chest. “What else did I do?”

Jameson gave her a crooked grin. “Finish the food.”

Food?

He produced a packet of crackers out of nowhere, and Avery groaned. “They’re disgusting.”

“They’re what you’re least likely to throw up.”

Avery frowned, and Jameson tore open the packet. “Take it from a Hawthorne man; we know the best ways to get drunk, and the best ways get over a hangover.”

He fed her a cracker, which was bland and flavorless, but the thought of any other food made her want to throw up.

Avery got halfway through the packet before she felt drowsy again. She didn’t realize it until she felt a series of gentle taps on her hand.

“Just one more, Heiress.” Avery was leaning almost entirely on Jameson, her head in the crook of his neck.

Avery tried to respond, but she was almost fully asleep, and Jameson took it as an answer. “Alright, you’re too sleepy for this, let’s get you to bed.”

He lifted her off the countertop almost effortlessly, and gently placed her on her bed, placing a kiss on her forehead. He might’ve said something, but sleep washed over Avery, and anything he said was long gone.

DIRECT MESSAGES TO: GRAYSON HAWTHORNE

JAMESON: how drunk did the girls get

JAMESON: even i never got hungover this bad jfc

GRAYSON: I couldn’t tell you.

GRAYSON: She’s stubborn as ever.

GRAYSON: She won’t even eat food.

GRAYSON: She also says that she’s not drunk.

JAMESON: she’s not tho????

JAMESON: she’s hungover??

JAMESON: don’t tell me you’ve been telling ur girl shes drunk.

GRAYSON: Don’t tell Xander.

GRAYSON: Or Avery.

JAMESON: lmfao i just got avery back into bed

JAMESON: try harder

GRAYSON: She just ran to the bathroom.

JAMESON: have fun

She ended up waking up about two hours later with a blinding headache-

“-And that’s what the painkillers are for.” Jameson sat on the edge of the bed and handed her two pills and a glass of water. She quickly gulped down the pills and all of the water, and she felt relief wash over her about five minutes later.

“Jesus Christ.” She moved closer to Jameson and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“How are we feeling, Heiress?” She looked up at him and he flashed her a smile.

“A lot better now. How are you so patient?”

His eyebrows rose. “I’m not.”

“You knew exactly what to do.”

“That comes from a combination of regularly having gotten hangovers, and being a Hawthorne.” He gestured wildly with his arms. “Efficiency is key.”

She bit back a laugh as Jameson talked about his ‘process’ and how many tries it took him to perfect the hangover routine.

“-so you got the better end of the deal, you hopefully will never have to experience a true, raw hangover.”

“Thank you.” Jameson looked down at her and she shrugged. “You didn’t have to help. It was pretty gross.”

“Anytime, Heiress. And I’ve seen gross. I lived with Grayson.”

Avery swallowed. “We woke you up last night as well, and I didn’t plan on getting drunk at all. You were completely unprepared.”

Jameson’s eyebrows flew into his hair. “If you ever meet an unprepared Hawthorne, please disinherit them.”

When Avery didn’t laugh, he sighed. “It’s okay, Heiress. We all drink a little too much sometimes, and no one goes out planning to get wasted. We have a whole shelf in the pantry with ‘hangover-safe food.’ It’s not a burden to help you, and it’s never a bad thing to spend more time with you.”

Avery opened her mouth to argue back and Jameson clapped a hand over her mouth. “I will always be there for you, whether you like it or not. It’s not a bad thing.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat, and she paused for a minute before she spoke. “Alright.”

He flashed her a smirk. “It is also fun not being the one drunk for once.”

She rolled her eyes and Jameson wrapped an arm around her. “Brilliant. Now do you want to see whether Lyra finally stopped arguing with Grayson?”

“Oh, she never does.”

“Today might be different.”

“How so?”

“She’s hungover for one thing …”

GRAYSON: Where did they get the alcohol again?

JAMESON: avery’s asking if Lyra’s okay.

GRAYSON: She’s sleeping.

JAMESON: gray it’s like 1pm

JAMESON: why did it take you so long to get her to rest.

GRAYSON: Apparently, Lyra has a severe distaste for all things involving alcohol.

GRAYSON: How did Avery get her drunk?

JAMESON: she says Max did it.

GRAYSON: I shouldn’t have expected anything less.

GRAYSON: I thought I was done with hangovers when you stopped drinking.

JAMESON: and then you decided to fall in love

JAMESON: this is not my fault

GRAYSON: she’s waking up.

GRAYSON: Maybe I’ll finally sleep.

JAMESON: that’s what you get for not sleeping when people do

GRAYSON: I’m not going to grace that with a response.

GRAYSON: Goodbye, Jamie.

JAMESON: you’re not going off to war jfc dont sound so dramatic

JAMESON: well, you kinda are

GRAYSON: … I’ll pass on the sentiment to Lyra

JAMESON: he didn’t mean that -Avery

JAMESON: I did

JAMESON: see you later.

fin.

ENDING NOTES This fic was kind of a rollercoaster, and it was harder for me to write ... for some reason. I specialize in angst. Thanks for reading - please like, reblog and leave feedback in the notes. Or just throw blackberries at me. Anything works. It's St. Patricks Day, and I literally live in Walmart Ireland, and I ... made this fic blue. (yaaay) This looks shit in light mode, im sorry. The taglist has a grand total of one person (thank you, Jude) and is looking for more people, so if you want to be added, lmk. (I joined the writing side during TIG's lowest point, but we are going to deal with it by throwing more fics into the pit.)

Taglist: @inmyheaddd

[naturesapphic]

Idk if u saw the interview of the hot chicken wings with billies but Can u write a fic with Billie and un doing this interview!! And like billie letting yn win bc she loves seeing yn happy! (I don’t know if u should do it with little yn or « big » yn so u decide!!!!)

Hot Ones: Versus

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: cussing, fluff, Billie being a little simp for her girl

Word count: 1,967

“You spin it baby. You’ve been wanting to.” Billie said with a teasing smile on her face. I leaned over to spin the hot sauce bottle and it lands on Billie. “You go first bils!” You said excitedly as Billie smiles at your cuteness. “Yep it’s my turn. Go ahead and hit me with it mamas.” Billie said confidently. “As a songwriter there’s a constant need to document your innermost thoughts and feelings. Read your last notes app entry out loud.” I ask and Billie smiles as she pulls her phone out of her baggy pants. “Ruh roh.” She sings out in a funny voice you love so much.

Billie starts to go through her phone and lets out her loud laugh that always makes you giggle. “Y’all it’s a quote from my dad.” Billie says and keeps laughing. “I was talking to my friend nat the other day and nat said you literally have the most beautiful eyes I’ve seen except for maybe your dad.” Billie explains and you agree with her. “Your mom has really beautiful eyes too.” You said and Billie agrees with you. “100%. Most beautiful eyes ever for two parents. Anyway I was telling my dad this and he goes your mom said I have bird eyes.” She said while sticking her pointed finger up making you laugh. “Then he said and that I look like a baby Dinosaur.” Billie giggles out and you kept laughing, almost losing your breath.

You looked over to see Maggie laughing and agreeing with Billie. Billie looked over and saw her mom agreeing and Billie points to her “she’s like yep. She’s like yeah.” Billie says as she looks back over to you. “Okay my turn!” Your girlfriend says excitedly as she picks up one of the cards and starts reading. “Can you guess one of the pet peeve’s Billie has of you.” She said out loud and you looked at her shocked. “I didn’t know you had pet peeves over me!” You said gasping dramatically as Billie looks around nervously. “Uhhh not really but there’s this one this you do that I absolutely hate and it’s because finneas does this too.” She explains and you immediately knew what she was talking about. “Me and finneas will put our feet up on stuff a lot.” You said and Billie nods as she giggles.

“A lot of the time finneas is barefoot while you usually have your socks on. Sometimes y’all will wear your gross shoes and have y’all’s feet up still.” Billie explained and went ahead and moved some of the food away so she could prop her feet up to show everyone how y’all do it. “And my face is like right there.” She laughs out and puts her feet down. It was now round two and it was your turn now to ask her another question. “In addition to being a Grammy award winning singer, you’re also a style icon. Rate these classic billie eilish fits on a scale of 1 to 10.” You read out and Billie groans as you gather the pictures together. “Jeez…” she mutters to herself.

“We’re gonna give that like a three.” She said about the camo outfit. “I had the idea, the idea was there. I had grey sweatpants on, I had a camouflage vest. It really doesn’t look good on though.” Billie explained and you gave her a pout. “I thought it looked amazing on you bils!” You said and Billie felt her cheeks heat up at your compliment. “This is cute!” You say as you pull up the next picture that was of Billie wearing a sailor moon outfit. “That was cute. I give it like a 7/8. All things anime is like the coolest shit ever. I feel like anytime I have a shirt that has any sort of anime character on it, it’s the coolest shirt I own.” Billie explains and you nod your head in agreement. You put up the next picture and the both of you ooh at it.

“This was a person whose shit did not stink.” Billie said while you gave her a confused look. “Well she thought her shit did not stink.” She corrected as you smiled at her. “I remember walking around this specific event being just like I am absolutely the sickest person in the world.” She said as she told the story of the photo. This time billie went over and picked up the next one which was her “assassin’s creed” outfit she wore. “Oh look it’s the assassin’s creed look!” You said while giggling. “It’s kind of hard. I feel like that’s an eight. This is so embarrassing.” She said as she looks around the room.

“Now it’s my turn to ask you. What’s the worst celebrity you’ve ever met?” Billie asked and you sat there quietly for a while, trying to think of an answer because you didn’t want to eat the hot wing. “I’m trying not to punch down.” You said not really thinking and Billie laughed. “Try not to punch down did you say?” She said confused. “Yeah I could punch way down.” You said giggling and the two of you laughed. You whined a bit as you couldn’t come up with an answer so you take a bite of your chicken wing. “Whew…that’s hot…but it’s really yummy. It’s probably because I’m hungry as fuck.” You said while wincing slightly. “Same.” Billie agreed as you picked up a card to ask her a question. “Couple test. I’m going to write down my answer and you have to guess my response. Guess wrong and eat a death wing.” You said dramatically.

“What is my favorite song of yours baby?” You ask and she makes a thinking face as she starts to write down her answer but then stops and then goes back to writing again. “Do you have it?” You asked and she nodded as she picks up her board and shows you her answer. “Nope that’s not it baby. But that one is one of my favs but it’s y/f/b/s (your favorite Billie song).” You replied and Billie lets out an ohhhhh. “That’s a great answer babygirl.” She says and you feel your cheeks become redder and it wasn’t because of the chicken. “I wanna eat a wing” Billie said in her baby voice she does and you coo at her. “Well you did get the answer wrong sooooo…take a biteee babyyy.” You said smiling as she gets excited to eat it.

She takes a decent bite and makes a mmm noise. “This is fire.” She says and you laugh loudly as she enjoys it. One of the people behind the camera asked if the spice was kicking in yet for her. “I think so. It’s getting a little hard to think.” Billie states and does a little smile and burps which makes you chuckle at her behavior. “You’ve never been shy about giving credit to your early musical influences. Now that your heroes have become your peers. Rank these artists from most to least talented.” You ask and gave her a shocked expression to which she matched that expression with you.

“Ooh….who?” She asked you and you grimaced at what you were about to say. “Tyler the creator, Lana del ray, childish Gambino, and Justin Bieber.” You said and Billie groaned. “Oh my God….most to least talented?” She asked and you nodded. “I don’t know if I can do it.” She said and laughed nervously. “Well baby eat a death wing im afraid.” You said and she grabbed her vegan wing. “It’s the lips that are the problem. The mouth and tongue is fine.” She said as she goes in and takes a bite on the top. You decided to eat one since you were starving and you regretted it. “Fuck! That’s so fucking hot…” you breathed out as you felt like you were gonna pass out. “You okay mamas? You can have milk or water if you want. It’s what it’s there for.” She said softly as she looks at you with worry.

“Yeah no I’m fine baby it’s okay. Let’s keep going.” You reassured her and she nodded. She picks up a card and it read a wild card and as soon as she said it a airhorn was blasted which made the two of you jump. Billie looked terrified and you started cackling at her face. “What the fuck dude!” You exclaimed and Billie shook her head in disbelief jokingly as she tries to read the card but was having trouble getting the words out. “It’s tradition around here to put a little extra on the last wing. You and your opponent can add an extra dab to your final wings now.” Billie read aloud and you groaned. Billie tied her hair back and took off her jacket while you took yours off and put your hair up as well. “What’s the question or challenge we have to do?” You ask as you just wanted to get this over with.

“Don’t smile at me. Challenge your partner to a compliment battle. First person to smile must eat a death wing.” She read and the both of you dreaded what was to come. “Baby this is so sad…” she said breathlessly. “Ummm…you have the most beautiful eyes mama…” she said and you kept your face neutral. “You are the most talented person I know.” You say to her and you saw her lips twitch up for a second but it never turned into a smile. “You are an incredible driver even though you drive fast as fuck.” You said and she holds in her giggles. “You are hot as fuck.” She said and you put your hand over your lips so you wouldn’t smile. “You always look good in the most bizarre clothing.” You said but you let out a laugh as did Billie.

“Well we both laughed so here we go but are you okay though princess?” Billie asked you as the two of you picked up a wing. “It can’t get any worse.” You replied and Billie shook her head laughing. “Oh but it totally can mama.” She warned and you took a deep breath. “I love ya.” Billie said and you said it back. The two of you ate pretty big bites and the two of your were dying by the end. It was clear that Billie had won since she didn’t drink anything but in her eyes you had won. She grabs the trophy and hands it to you while you looked at her in disbelief. “You deserve it mamas and plus I love you a whole bunch.” She said and you coo at her.

She leans over and tries to take a bite out of the fake wing and makes a disgusted face. “Oh my gosh…you didn’t even make that a little bit edible” she said as she pushes the trophy closer to you. “Baby what the fuck.” You laugh out and stand up as Billie stands up with you. You end the video with the two of you saying goodbye and that was that. Even though Billie could have gotten the trophy, there’s not one thing she wouldn’t give/do for her girl.

A/n: this took me so long to do so please like, comment, reblog everything lol thank you to the anon who requested this. I hope they enjoyed it and I hope the rest of y’all did too. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all!

[soullumii]

this is trouble | joel miller x f!reader

part 2

summary: it's been three weeks since joel last fucked you. tonight he finally has the time.

warnings/tags: 18+ smut mdni, filth. was meant to be plotless but sort of has plot now oops. fem!afab!reader, fwb, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, secret fwb, dirty talk, bratty!reader, grumpy!reader, dom!joel, soft!joel as fucking always (i’m a romantic, what can i say?) little bit of feelings oops, some angst at the end oops, pet names, no use of y/n

word count: 4.6k-ish

a/n: couldn’t find a gif of joel stroking that damn guitar so i made one. lowkey hate this but i needed to upload something so here i hope u enjoy

so when you give that look to me,

i better look back carefully cuz this is trouble, yeah this is trouble

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

It’s been a good few weeks since you last fucked Joel.

Since this whole friends with benefits thing started between you. 

And tonight you’re kind of set on getting his dick back inside you again. Since, y’know, it’s been so long.

You’ve been craving it for a while, but tonight it’s kind of all encompassing. Kind of been the only thing on your mind since Tommy and Maria invited you out tonight. You and Joel, the latter who for the past three weeks has been busy with god knows what. 

You’re kind of pissed at him. Kind of really pissed. And your horny, pent up brain doesn’t help much with keeping your cool. 

At least you’re a few drinks in now, which has cooled your temper down some (though has spiked your libido quite a bit). Maria and Tommy are totally not picking up on your bad mood, though, thank god.

You swirl the last few dregs of wine in your glass, hardly listening to what Maria is practically shouting to you from the other side of the booth, since it’s so fucking loud in here. Your mind is caught on Joel standing at the other end of the Tipsy Bison.

You’ve been eyeing the way his hands curl around his glass of whiskey. The way his flannel stretches over his broad chest. The way his mouth moves as he talks to one of the stable hands named Harry. 

You remember the feeling of that mouth between your thighs.

Fuck, how much longer is he gonna make you wait? Another damn week?

He looks over at your table, eyes catching yours from across the room. You glare at him, trying to convey the frustration and lust and want you feel.  

His lip twitches in a smirk, seemingly having received your message. He pats Harry on the back, and then he’s sauntering back over to you and your little group of friends.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He slides into his seat next to you in the booth. His scent of pine and sandalwood envelops you, a silent torture in and of itself. “Harold doesn’t know when to stop talkin’.”

Tommy laughs boisterously. When he’s had one too many drinks, he’s impossibly loud. “Man, I remember when he kept me at the greenhouse for an hour talkin’ about some bullshit.”

“He's a good guy. Just likes to talk." Maria glances at the radio perched in the corner, a new song playing through the speakers sprinkled throughout the bar. “Oh I love this song! Let’s go dance!”

Joel looks over at you, and you’re still kind of out of it, eyes fixated on the way the sleeves of his flannel are rolled up above his forearms, showing off the veins that snake across his skin, the muscles that shift with each drum of his fingers on the table top.

You’re not in any condition to dance at the moment, and Joel is certainly aware of it.

“I think we’ll stay here,” he says. “Y’all go enjoy yourselves.”

“Suit yourself.” Maria drags Tommy out to the dance floor, leaving you and Joel at this little booth tucked in the corner all by yourselves. 

Alone. 

In the dark. 

And you’re drunk. Joel, probably on his way there.

This is not going to end well. Or maybe it will. For you, at least. Just…not for any poor suckers who might stumble across whatever is about to take place. 

Joel lazes in his seat, casually stretching an arm over the back of the booth, pressing in close to you.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Hi,” you say.

“…You doin’ alright?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice rather than any real concern, and you know he knows exactly what’s wrong with you.

“I’m fine,” you respond coolly.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“I’m havin’ some trouble believin’ that, since you’re poutin’ like crazy right now, sweetheart.”

“I am not pouting-“

He laughs, full on fucking laughs at you. “Uh yeah, ya are. You’re actin’ like a lil brat. Givin’ me those goddamn eyes from across the room.” 

“Eyes? What eyes?”

His voice dips into something dangerously low, only for you to hear. “The ones practically beggin’ me to eat your pussy. Those ones.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel!” you hiss, turning your head to hide your embarrassment. You drain the rest of your drink and immediately wish you had more. Or some water, at least, to cool down the warmth settling high in your cheeks. 

“That’s what you want, ain’t it?” 

“I don’t fucking know. Are you actually going to do it? Or are you just gonna leave me high and dry again?”

He sighs heavily, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose and why is he the frustrated one here?

You’ve gone three fucking weeks without his dick in you! After he and you made a deal! You should be mad. Not him!

But maybe…maybe that’s just it. Maybe he isn’t fucking you because he just doesn’t want to anymore. And that, scarily enough, makes your chest ache and your eyes get all teary and wow you are so drunk right now. 

“Listen—“ he starts.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Joel,” you snap, folding your napkin into little squares to distract yourself from how upset you are. 

He pulls back, and you think he might just get up and leave you to stew angrily again. You could afford to throw yourself another pity party. There’s a bunch more napkins on this table that need folding.

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, his hand settles warm on your thigh. Your fingers stall around the napkin. 

“I know I’ve been busy, but I intend to keep my promise this time,” he says softly, his hand squeezing your bare flesh, your sundress already having ridden up your thigh. “Don’t think you’ve been the only one cravin’ this.” 

His hand caresses down your inner thigh until his palm is cupping you through your panties, his knuckles brushing over your clothed entrance, and you’re grateful that the booth is angled the way it is, that you’re tucked on the inside, because it makes it a lot harder for anyone to see what he’s doing.

And it makes it a lot easier for you to give into it.

Your legs fall open, providing him more access to where you’re slick and ready for him, your knee pressing into his jean-clad thigh.

“Mm, there we go,” he smirks, stroking you through the fabric, and a tiny whimper escapes you. He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your ear when he murmurs, “You’re such a drama queen when you’re horny.” 

Motherfucker…

Okay, yes. You can be a bit dramatic. But it’s not only your body that’s horny for him…your heart is kind of horny too. Joel is your best friend and to not see or talk to your best friend for three weeks is practically torture, especially when they’ve been giving you the good dicking down that you deserve. You have a right to be dramatic. 

You send him a scathing glare but it melts the moment his fingers pull your panties to the side and slip beneath the fabric.

You’re wet as hell. You know it. He knows it. But you’re still mad at him, and kind of drunk, so…

“Don’t you say fucking shit.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to.”

It’s a damn lie. He loves commenting on how wet you get for him. While it’s a bit humiliating for you, it only boosts his ego. Like hell he needs an ego boost, though.

His finger lightly swipes up your folds, and he bites down on his lip to try and hide the arrogant grin on his face at the way you thrust your hips forward needily with a breathy pant, but he’s failing. It’s practically impossible for The Joel Miller not to make things about himself.

“How often did you touch yourself thinkin’ about me while I was gone?”

Case in point. 

“Hmm…I don’t think I ever did.”

He circles the pad of his finger around your entrance, and stares you down with dark eyes, looking straight through your core, his voice dipping into something sultry and ragged and downright criminal. “You’re such a damn liar.” 

You feel like you might melt into the faux leather booth. Your thighs are already sticking to it, why not just become part of it at this point?

He slowly sinks his finger inside you, his thumb stroking your outer lips as he does so, and you’re boneless against the cushioned back of the booth.

“I’ll be honest for the both of us. Practically came to the thought of you every night,” he mumbles against your ear and lightly bites your earlobe. “Was thinkin’ ‘bout how much I missed you… ‘bout your body… ‘bout this perfect pussy.” He emphasizes each word with a pulse of his thick finger inside you. 

You shudder, your body lighting up at the thought of him lying in his bed, his hand closed around his cock as he came with a moan of your name on his lips. 

“Why didn’t you just come see me?” You huff, choking on a breath when he crooks his finger inside you, stroking your walls.

“Too much was goin’ on. Maria had me on patrol every morning, then I had guard duty to watch the folks that just left town. I wanted to see you, but I didn’t have enough time. You know I like takin’ my time with you, sweetheart.”

His excuse is valid enough, and he really does like taking his time with you. Content to just plant himself between your legs for hours to coax you through orgasm after orgasm. Or fuck you slow and deep, pulling back just when you’re on the crest to watch you squirm before he builds you up again, over and over until you’re practically screaming at him to let you cum. 

Still…he couldn’t have stopped by once to explain his situation? 

He slides in another finger, and you vaguely register that the song Maria and Tommy sauntered out to the dance floor to is coming to an end and another is starting in its place. They’ll be back soon.

“We can’t do this here,” you hiss, attempting to pull his hand out from under your panties, but it’s half hearted. You don’t want him to stop.

But he pulls back anyway, “If that’s what you want.”

It’s sweet, it’s considerate.. But he’s a damn jerk, because he knows how long you’ve been waiting for this. He knows you want him to keep going. Especially judging by the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark and hooded, the corner of wicked his lips twisting up…

He just wants you to fucking say it.

“Joel…” you grumble.

“What? You change your mind?”

Your fingers curl around his hand, tugging it down again, pressing it up against your throbbing core. That’s gotta be answer enough.

He’s not having it. “C’mon baby. Use your words…”

You scowl at him, muttering, “Don’t stop.”

“Speak up, sweetheart. Can’t hear ya. It’s loud in here.” 

Ughhhh! “Please touch me, Joel. Please don’t stop.”

He smirks. “As you wish.” 

Princess Bride reference. Cute. Makes your heart flop a little in your chest.

Joel eases his fingers back inside you agonizingly slow. He strokes the pads of his fingers inside you. A tingle unfurls in your chest, starts in your toes and spreads up your calves, and a low moan tumbles from your lips.

Thankfully, from anyone passing by, it would look like you two are just deep in a private conversation. Joel, pressed against you, leaning in close, and you, shielded from view by his broad shoulders, listening intently to whatever he’s saying.

They just don’t know that he’s breaking you down, brick by brick. That he’s making you leak all over this fucking booth. That it’s pure filth he’s muttering in your ear and not a juicy secret.

“God, you look so pretty takin’ my fingers, like you were made for 'em. Such a good girl."

“Joel, oh my god…”

Your breaths are coming out hotter, heavier, especially when Joel’s fingers slip out only to glide up through your folds to run delicious patterns over your clit.

“Fuck…” You whimper, the heat in your lap pooling thick and abundant. Your hips chase after his fingers, grinding against his hand.

You’re dangerously close.

“That feel good, baby…?” He eggs you on, his voice a rough rumble of thunder against your ear. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly, how enthusiastically you’re nodding, and Joel slips his fingers back inside you, his thumb coming down to rub circles on your clit as he fucks his digits up and into you.

The music is loud, but beneath it, you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy as Joel takes you apart, stroke by stroke, a steady metronome. 

You grasp onto his forearm desperately, your nails digging into the muscles there with a gasp of his name. “Joel-“

Shit. You’re seriously going to cum in this shitty little moth-eaten booth in the only bar in this entire town. You won’t be able to live it down. But you can’t bring yourself to care–you’re close, on the precipice, and you meet Joel’s dark, dangerous eyes, urging you to cum on his hand with a C’mon baby, you can do it, give it to me and you might, it’s right there it’s—

“…-ere did you learn to do that?”

The unexpected sound of Tommy’s voice has you frantically ripping Joel’s hand out from beneath your dress and scrabbling for a napkin to wipe up the mess on your thighs, on the fucking booth, your orgasm rearing back angrily and setting into a dull buzz in your limbs.

The wicked man beside you scoots himself further under the booth, likely to hide the hard-on he’s sporting. He wipes his hand on his thigh. You think you can hear him grumbling angrily under his breath at the interruption, but you’re not sure, ears instead trained on the sound of your friends getting closer. 

You reach for the drink menu, pretending to read it.

“I took dance classes in my free time before the outbreak,” Maria says as the couple closes back in on the booth you and Joel were totally not defiling. She shimmies at the both of you. “You guys really missed out on some of my great moves while you were moping.”

“We weren’t moping,” Joel defends.

“Sure…” Maria drawls.

If she only knew.

“I’m just not really feeling well,” you say. 

Maria’s playful grin falls into a look of concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired. Need to go lay down, I think. It’s been a long day.”

“Let me walk you home,” Joel says, grabbing his coat he had slung over the booth and strategically positioning it over his pants when he stands.

“Thanks.”

“Feel better!” Tommy says, and you give him a grateful nod as Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back and he steers you out of the stuffy bar and into the cool summer night.

Katydids sing in the dark as you and Joel stroll down the street to your house tucked at the end of the cul-de-sac. Fireflies light the asphalt. An owl hoots overhead. 

“You really feelin' bad?” He asks quietly, once you’ve reached your front porch. 

"No. I just wanted to get out of there."

He hums. "Are you still mad at me?"

“I dunno.” Not really. You’re just pissed you were interrupted. Still, he needs to feel some remorse for his radio silence, so you don’t elaborate.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely as you unlock your door. “Really I am. There’s no excuse. I should’a made the time to at least tell you what was goin’ on. I’m sorry.” 

You open your door and pause in the warm light from the foyer. “You can make it up to me by fucking me.” 

“As good as that sounds, I wanna make sure you’re okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh. Ugh. Usually Joel’s fine with pushing things to the side. Bottling things up. He does it a lot. You sort of wish he would just drop it right now. You don't want to deal with the weird feeling in your chest that's been here all night. But he’s looking at you, waiting.

"I just thought...Maybe you were done with this. With me."

He frowns. “Hell no. I like what we have. I don’t want it to stop anytime soon." He steps forward, wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in.

"Me too..." You murmur, hands drifting up his back, pressing him in close for a hug. "I'm glad you're safe."

He chuckles. “Course I'm safe. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you say into his shoulder. "I just worry about you.”

"Yeah? You worry 'bout me a lot?"

You pinch his stomach playfully. "You're my best friend. Of course I do."

He pulls away a bit, huffs a tiny laugh. But it's not like his usual laughs. It's forced. Quiet. "Right."

You're a little too drunk to ask about it, and still horny enough to want to get things back on track, so you look into his dark eyes, smiling coyly, lip tucked between your teeth as you roll your hips into him. "Now that I forgive you…think you can fuck me now? Cuz it’s been way too fucking long.”

He groans softly, yes ma'am, and presses his lips against yours.

Okay, yes, he’s your friend but you also kind of kiss sometimes.

You tug him inside the house and shut the door, your mouth still latched to his. The moment the door snicks into the frame, he’s got you pressed against it, his hand rucking up your dress to bunch it around your hips while his tongue dips into your mouth.

You swiftly unbutton his flannel, sliding it down his arms. Your hands find his chest, fingernails scraping over his pecs, through his dark chest hair that thins out the further south it goes, but thickens again into a happy trail that disappears below his waistband.

Fuck, he’s so…

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, a repeat of earlier, and you break the kiss to drop your head against the door with a thump when his fingers find your clit again.

“Jesus, you’re so wet.”

…And there he goes.

“Three fucking weeks, Joel,” you bite, though the end of his name melts into a moan when his fingers sink inside you again. 

“Didn’t know you were keepin’ count.” 

“Fuck—“ He quirks a finger. “S-shut up.”

He huffs out an amused chuckle into your cheek, trailing kisses from your jaw down your throat. His teeth sink in, and his mouth suctions over your skin, delivering a beautiful little mark on your flesh that he kisses gently after. It drives you fucking crazy.

“I’ll shut up if you let me taste you,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice vibrating pleasantly through you.

Your pussy pulses around his fingers, your clit honest to god throbbing against his palm, and now he knows you really want him to eat you out, especially when you follow up with an enthusiastic nod.

Joel slips his hand out from beneath your panties to lift you up around his hips and carry you to your bedroom. He plops you on the edge of your mattress and immediately sinks to his knees on the floor, eye level with your cunt.

“God, been thinkin’ about you for weeks. Missed this pussy so goddamn much,” he says, leaning in to kiss your inner thigh.

His lips trail down your leg as he pulls your panties off and stuffs them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Let’s see how good I did,” he says, pulling your legs apart to get a good look at what a mess he’s made of you. He hums appreciatively at the sight of your glistening folds, licking his lips. That enough has you clenching around nothing, fingers tightening in the bed covers. 

“You seein’ what I do to you? No one else can make you this wet, ain’t that right?”

“You’re such an arrogant ass,” you growl.

He just smirks as he lowers himself again between your legs. He puffs a breath of cool air along your slit before listing over to kiss your other inner thigh, grinning when you groan in frustration.

“Joel, please.”

“So impatient.”

“I’ve waited thr—“

“Three weeks, yeah I know.”

He presses forward to lick a hot stripe up your folds with the flat of his tongue, and your hand flies to his hair, anchoring him closer to your pussy.

“S-shit,” you whimper. 

He lightly drags a finger along your slit, the slight pressure fucking agonizing. 

“Joel.” You sort of want to scream at him. He’s been teasing you all fucking night. 

“Alright,” he laughs and allows you to guide his head back down until the bridge of his scarred nose is pressed into your folds and his tongue is prodding at your entrance. 

He takes his sweet time unraveling you, alternating between licking into you and sucking your sensitive clit into his mouth. You can’t say much, reduced to wordless cries with each movement of his mouth. 

It’s messy, sloppy, but you like it. You like seeing the wetness on his face when he pulls back for air. You like the way his hair is pulled in all different directions, all because of your greedy hands. You like the way he has to push one of his hands down to palm himself in his jeans, just to relieve some of that pressure.

He clearly loves eating you out. And you very much love that he loves it.

But you’re getting kind of desperate. Kind of really want to cum. So…

Your hips begin to grind against his face as he sucks on your clit, and he seems to receive the message because he slides two thick fingers into you and starts to eat you out in earnest, delighting with a low moan when your legs clench around his head, the scruffy hairs of his beard tickling your inner thighs. 

“Holy shit, Joel.”

“Mm—“ He moans.

Your foot keeps slipping off the bed, so Joel’s large, warm hand curls around your calves to situate your legs over his shoulders. This new position grants you more leverage to chase after your orgasm with steady rolls of your hips into his hungry mouth.

He sucks your clit as he thrusts his fingers into you at a brutal pace, hitting your g-spot that has you jerking against him with each stroke. His hand plants on your abdomen to hold you down, stilling your desperate movements.

You’re getting close, the pressure building and magnifying as Joel moans against your pussy, the vibrations driving you insane.

“Fuck, Joel—hah-“

“Mm.”

“Jesus, Joel—fuck—oh my—hnhh—”

“Mhm.” He encourages.

It shatters in you, white hot and falling over you, a waterfall of warmth. Your body straightens stiff as a board, back arching off the bed, quivering as you cum against Joel’s mouth, your slick running down his chin and catching in his beard.

You try to push him away, your orgasm overwhelming on its own, but Joel hates it when you do that, wants to make sure you really feel it, so he presses himself back in to lick and guide you through it. Drawing it out.

It has your head falling back, eyes rolling into your skull, mouth dropping open on a satisfied moan. 

He only gives you a short amount of time to recover while he pulls his jeans and briefs off. You tug your sundress over your head. And then he’s rising up to meet you again, scooting you back until your head almost brushes the headboard. He sinks his thick cock into you as he presses his lips against yours, muffling your surprised and needy moan.

And then he reaches up, his large hand gripping the headboard as your legs wrap around his waist, and then he’s fucking you in earnest, each snap of his hips sheathing his cock fully inside you in a desperate rhythm.

And all you can do is lay there and take it and fall apart.

“S-shit, baby,” he grunts. “That’s it.”

“Oh God…” You whine. 

Your hands scrabble for purchase on his back, your blunt nails scratching up his sun-freckled skin, feeling the muscles bunch and shift as he holds the thumping headboard steady, his knuckles turning white as he grips it. His other hand finds its spot next to your head, holding himself up as he obliterates your pussy. 

He prepared you well for him, but you’re still stretched so full, the breaths knocked from your lungs with each thrust of his cock into you. His pelvic bone brushes your clit with the roll of his hips, the uneven pressure dragging you closer and closer to that metaphoric cliff.

And his moans certainly help, too. He’s not quiet, between strings of praises are ragged moans and tiny whimpers. It only turns you on more.

“Fuck, Joel, can’t leave me without this again.”

“Trust me baby,” he groans. “Another damn week and I wouldn’t’ve survived.”

His hand releases the headboard, slides down to tangle in your hair. He tugs your head back, and molds your lips to his. Teeth nipping your bottom lip before his tongue dives into your mouth. You moan appreciatively.

You can hardly breathe, but god it’s perfect. This moment is so fucking perfect. You want to take a picture of it. Frame it on your damn wall. 

You’re sure it looks like he’s fucking eating you right now, but you like it. You want him to consume you. Want him to be yours… Want to be his.

Stop. He’s your best friend.

He pulls back to lick a stripe from the corner of your lips along your jaw before sucking marks and kisses down your throat, his hips still thrusting into you steadily. His hand squeezes your breast, rolls your nipple between his index and thumb.

“Oh…oh—“ God… 

“You close baby girl?”

“Fuck, ye-yes… Yes need you…”

“N-need me to help you cum?”

He’s losing it. You’re losing it. Fuck please!

“Please, Joel—“

He pulls back enough to watch you, lips pink and puffy and kissed the fuck out. His eyes drift to where he’s thrusting inside you, dick slick with your arousal, sheathing itself inside you with wet, fucking nasty sounds.

“God, you're perfect. So fuckin' perfect...” 

His hand drifts down and you tremble, brows screwing together as his thumb fiddles with your clit.

White hot arousal pools in your core, unrelenting. Unstoppable. You feel like a damn metamorphic rock. Becoming something new under all this heat and pressure. 

It crests, crashing, filling your insides with hot magma as your mouth drops open on a silent scream, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy clamps down on Joel’s cock repeatedly.

He follows right behind you, painting your insides with thick, hot cum, leaking out of your entrance over his cock and down your ass cheeks.

You hiss when he pulls out, feeling empty. He gathers the cum that leaked out with his thumb and pushes it back into your quivering hole. 

“So goddamn pretty…” he murmurs. “Look so pretty with my cum inside you…”

Friends. You’re friends. 

So why the hell does this feel like so much more? Why is it that you’re so turned on by him practically claiming you?

You’re still trying to catch your breath when he lays down beside you, brushing your hair out of your sweaty face. “Feel better now? Not so mad anymore?”

“Mhm,” you hum happily.

He leans in, presses his lips against yours softer, slower…meaningfully. You kiss him back, tugging him close. His arm snakes around your waist, tugging you into him. You're pretty sure normal friends with benefits don't do this. But you and Joel have never been normal.

In those long three weeks you had started to worry maybe he'd never come back. It fucking scared you. Now, you're unsure you ever want to let go.

When he pulls back his eyebrows are furrowed, lips drawn in a frown. He looks concerned. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"You're cryin'..." He wipes your teary eyes with his thumb.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You scramble to wipe your eyes, sniff. Smile at him. Reassure. Act normal. "Oh, no-I'm fine. Just... think I'm still drunk."

"Somethin' going on? You looked like you were gonna cry back at the Bison, too. Did I do somethin'?"

You shake your head, squeeze his arm. "No, of course not. I'm just being weird. Tired, I think.”

"You sure?"

"Mhm.”

"You can tell me anythin’, y'know?"

What? Like I think I'm in love with you? Fat chance.

"I know. Everything's fine."

You’re such a damn liar.

He can see right through you, but he lets it go. "Okay. If you're sure." He leans in to press a kiss to your jaw. Friend. Friend friend friend. "I'd love to stay but I gotta go. Ellie's probably wonderin' where I'm at."

Joel sits up, swings his legs over the edge and stands. Grabs his jeans, pulls them up. His belt buckle jangles as he slides it through the loops.

“I really did miss you, by the way,” he says, looking down at you. “You. Not just the sex.”

His words warm your cool, exposed body. Fuel the burning the realization, I love you. “I missed you, too.”

He turns to leave, and you see the fabric poking out of his back pocket.

"You still have my panties."

He smirks. "Guess you'll hav'ta come over to get them back."

You smile back, blushing. “Looking forward to it.”

He leans down to kiss your head, "Night, angel."

"Night," you say faintly.

Only when your front door slams shut do you allow yourself to give into the fantasies. To imagine what it’d be like to call him yours. To not keep things a secret. To tell people you're together. To be his.

Damnit, you’re in trouble.

[darkenedroses-world]

Protective Mode — Smii7y x Reader

f!reader, angst, protective Smii7y, found family, social media drama, request🦋

It started out so harmless.

The guys were in full chaos mode during a stream, their voices overlapping as they bantered back and forth. The noise spilled into the kitchen where you were humming to yourself, finishing up a fresh batch of cookies. “Yo, Smii7y,” Grizzy’s voice cut through, loud and teasing. “Is that you getting fed again? I swear I hear plates and shit clinking.” “Oh, it’s definitely Y/N,” Droid added, laughing. “Bro, you’re actually spoiled. Does she, like, just live in the kitchen for you?” Puffer chimed in next, snickering. “Nah, Y/N’s the real MVP. If I lived with Smii7y, I’d let that man starve.” “Fuck off,” Smii7y said, his voice muffled slightly by his mic, but there was a smile in his tone. “I didn’t ask for anything. She just does it ‘cause she’s nice.” Grizzy laughed. “I’m just saying, it’s like having a full-time mom who’s also your girlfriend. Y/N’s a saint.” You could faintly hear Smii7y huff over the sound of your oven door closing. “You guys are stupid.” The chat, of course, picked up on it instantly. Questions flooded in, waves of “WHO’S Y/N?” and “SHE COOKS FOR YOU?!!” spamming the stream. Smii7y didn’t give much more context, brushing off the teasing with his usual wit. “She’s my girlfriend, chat. Chill out.” What happened next was inevitable.

You’d been careful about keeping your life private, but it didn’t stop fans from diving deep. Within hours, they’d found your Instagram—pictures of meals, sunset views, and candid shots you’d thought nothing of. The comments started small—curious, lighthearted questions—but quickly spiraled into insults:

• “She’s not even cute. What’s Smii7y doing with her?”

• “She doesn’t deserve him.”

• “Bet she’s a clout chaser. Smii7y could do better.”

• “You’re ruining his streams. Kill yourself.”

At first, you tried to ignore it, turning off notifications and forcing yourself to scroll past the cruel words. But the messages kept coming—DMs filled with threats, accusations, and things you didn’t want to repeat aloud. A day later, Smii7y was streaming again, unaware of just how bad things had gotten. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling your phone. The distant sound of Smii7y’s voice filtered through his mic, calm and familiar as he played. “Chat, relax, I’m focusing,” he said, chuckling softly. “I’m trying to win here.” Then, the silence stretched too long. “…What the fuck did you just say?” His voice was low, sharp, and cold. Your head shot up. Smii7y rarely sounded like that—something was wrong. “What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up straight, but he didn’t answer right away. “Chat,” he growled, the bite in his voice making you shiver, “which one of you thought it’d be a good idea to talk shit about my girlfriend? Huh? You think I wouldn’t see it?” You froze, heart pounding as he continued. “Don’t you dare bring her into this bullshit,” he snapped, his tone getting louder. “You wanna talk shit about me? Go ahead—I don’t care. But leave her the fuck out of it.” The chat flooded with messages—some confused, others panicking—but Smii7y wasn’t done. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s done nothing but be kind and patient with me and with life in general. And what do you do? You harass her? You send her death threats because I mentioned her name? Are you out of your fucking minds?”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging as you watched him defend you so fiercely. Puffer’s voice suddenly cut through Discord, alarmed. “Wait, hold up—what’s going on?” “People are being assholes to Y/N,” Smii7y snapped, his tone still fiery. Puffer let out a disbelieving laugh. “No fucking way. Over what? Being a decent human?” Grizzy’s mic clicked on next, his voice dead serious. “That’s fucking wild. Y’all really mad at her because she cooks and cares about people? You need help.” “She made me the best ribs of my life,” Droid added, clearly pissed. “Y’all couldn’t even dream of someone being that nice to you.” “Exactly,” Smii7y said, his voice rising. “She doesn’t owe you anything. She’s not a streamer; she’s not part of this world. She’s just living her fucking life—and now she has to deal with this?” You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words. “You wanna harass her? Fine,” Smii7y spat. “But just know you’ll never see my face in your chat again. You’re not a fan if this is how you act.” Puffer chimed in again, softer this time. “Seriously, y’all need to chill. She’s, like, the nicest person I’ve ever met. You’re ruining it for everyone.” Grizzy groaned. “For real. Grow up, man.” After the stream ended, Smii7y turned his chair and stood, crossing the room to pull you into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding you close. “I didn’t think they’d take it this far.” You clung to him, tears slipping down your cheeks. “It’s not your fault. But… thank you. For standing up for me.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression softening. “You’re my everything. I’m not letting anyone treat you like shit. Ever.” You managed a weak smile, your voice breaking. “I love you.” Smii7y kissed your forehead, his hold tightening protectively. “I love you, too. And don’t worry—next time, they won’t get off so easy.”

[cat3ch1sm]

I was wondering if you would do more writing for L. Would you write a NSFW with Dom!L including bondage?

⛪️~ hello, @incivilminds <33 here is your request!! I have done you so dirty dawg like this is actually so old… forgive me plsplspls💔💔💔💔 also GODDAMN this is long as shit what

also yeah, i haven’t been writing a lot for L lately, my bad y’all 😭 i will def be writing more death note soon

*＊✿❀ nsfw ahead! fem!reader,❀✿＊*

It probably hadn’t even been a week since you had been captured, although it felt like it had been months. Vaguely, you recalled your wrists being wrenched behind your back mercilessly and a blindfold being tied roughly around your eyes. While you struggled vehemently against the chafing handcuffs that had been so harshly slapped around your wrists, someone, a man, had told you that you were under suspicion of being involved with Kira. Next thing you knew, you were tied up in a small, empty room, still unable to see or move with your body bound to a terribly uncomfortable metal board-like thing.

For a long time, you were scared out of your mind. For hours on end, you’d been interrogated by a garbled voice coming from somewhere in the room, and you hadn’t been able to give anyone any information. You were hardly allowed any bathroom breaks, and you were only given the bare minimum of food and water to keep you alive. However, despite the small amount of time you’d been captive, the situation you were in felt more hopeless every second. You were sleep-deprived, mentally drained from all the questions every hour of every day, your body was aching like hell from the position you’d been in for what seemed like ages, and you were always thirsty or hungry. On a number of occasions you’d fainted, only realizing it when you were awoken by a stern voice from some audio device in the room.

When you heard the familiar click of the microphone in the room, you had just begun to drift off again- sleeping was really all you could to in this predicament, and you weren’t really getting much of that either- it was hard to do so when you were literally tied to a board at 90 degrees and being watched every single second. And you already knew whoever had you captive now was tired of you asking to go to the bathroom every two seconds.

“Y/N.”

The stoic but demanding tone of whoever was speaking was something you were used to by now- but realizing that you were probably about to be interrogated ruthlessly again by this mechanical voice was almost too much, especially alongside being deprived of most of your senses for so long like this. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond, instead barely lifting your head from its loll on your chest.

“Good. You’re up. Now, tell me what you know about Kira.”

This again. You could almost feel your sanity slipping through your fingers.

You replied with an inaudible murmur, not even really knowing what you were saying yourself.

“Speak up. I can’t hear you.”

This time, you didn’t respond, and dropped your head again, an overwhelming sleepiness suddenly coming over you. Today, you just weren’t up for it- you couldn’t care less what anyone did to you.

There was an unexpected silence for a few seconds- you’d expected the voice to resume its distorted badgering the second you failed to reply. But when the voice sounded again, its tone wasn’t as stony as it had been previously.

“You seem tired. How are you doing?”

Before you could stop it, a dull, bitter laugh burst from your throat. “How am I doing?” Your voice was raspy from lack of hydration and to speak by itself hurt your throat. “Don’t patronize me.”

More silence. For a second you’d thought maybe you’d made the voice mad, but what it said next surprised you. “Watari. Get the girl some water.”

Next thing you knew, there was shuffling beside you, and then a hard object at your lips. You could feel the cold air from it flowing on your skin, and then Watari tilted the cup towards your lips, signaling you to drink. However, you kept your lips tightly shut- you didn’t want to accept any formalities from whoever was behind this.

Watari tried again, but this time you moved your head out of the way quite violently, feeling your hair dip into the water before your head hit the side of the cup, knocking it from Watari’s hand and spilling the cold liquid all over your body. It brought you a little pleasure to know that you were being an inconvenience, and now there was a mess to clean up. Besides that, now you might be allowed clean clothes.

Silence from Watari. You wondered if you’d made him mad.

“Ryuzaki, the girl doesn’t seem to be cooperating.”

You were a little surprised by Watari’s voice. You’d thought he was a man on the younger side, but instead he sounded rather elderly. You shuddered to yourself.

“Yes, I can see that,” came the tiny little voice through the speakers. It sounded like his or her teeth were clenched.

Ryuzaki. So that was your captor’s name. Even if you did get punished for your difficult behavior, at least you’d come away with a little victory.

“Feel free to depart, Watari,” Ryuzaki spoke again, the crackle of the feedback echoing through the room. “I’m going to come down there myself.”

He was coming down? You weren’t sure if you were anxious or eager. Perhaps he’d finally finish you off.

“Ryuzaki, are you sure?” Watari questioned.

“She can’t see me,” Ryuzaki replied coolly. “It’ll be fine. By this point, she needs a change of clothes, anyway- the water in fact contained a light dose of a chemical that would make the girl’s mind a little weaker and relax some of her tension, perhaps draw the truth out of her- and I can’t have it spilled on her clothes like it is now.”

Chemical? Draw the truth out of you? Any regrets about rejecting the water drained from your mind the instant Ryuzaki said that. Another tiny victory.

“Go ahead, Watari. I’ll be down shortly.”

Watari complied, and soon you heard footsteps depart from you and eventually vanish.

It was a little while before you heard anyone else again, and you waited anxiously, back aching against the cold, stiff board. Was he going to kill you? Or were you just in for more interrogation? At this point, you’d much rather Ryuzaki just end your misery. Even one more question and you’d go mad.

Despite your rising anxiety, you couldn’t ignore the pull of sleep weighing down your eyelids and blurring your vision. It had been ages since you’d slept properly, and even the small intervals of sleep you managed to get were constantly disrupted by the crackly voice over the intercom waking you up to ask you the same set of questions. Because of this, while waiting for Ryuzaki, you actually began to drift off- but just as you were about to really fall asleep, you heard footsteps echoing throughout the room.

The sound snapped you back to alertness, making you jolt. The footsteps grew louder and louder, growing closer, and then they stopped right in front of you. You froze, body completely stiff- Ryuzaki had arrived. However, he didn’t speak, which only made you more nervous.

After a few agonizing minutes, you at last heard a voice, allowing you to relax a bit- but it wasn’t much. However, the voice did surprise you- it was a young man, much unlike the crackly sound you’d been hearing for the time that you’d been here. There was a raspy edge to it as well- you could say confidently that it certainly wasn’t an ugly voice. In fact, it was sort of comforting in a twisted manner- it would have been worse if it was an old man watching you this entire time.

“Mr. Matsuda, Aizawa,” Ryuzaki commanded, “turn off the cameras and the audio.”

What?

The two men Ryuzaki had addressed seemed to have a similar reaction as yours. “Huh? L- I mean, Ryuzaki, that’s nuts! This is an interrogation!” came a protesting voice rather loudly through the microphone, the feedback making you flinch. It sounded like a much younger man’s voice, younger than Ryuzaki.

There was a brief pause before another, more mature-sounding voice came through the speaker. “Yeah- Ryuzaki, we trust you, but is that something you really want to do?”

“I want to talk to our suspect alone.” Ryuzaki continued calmly, unfazed by either of the men’s protests. “Matsuda, please turn off the camera and the audio.”

This couldn’t be good at all. Now you were almost certain Ryuzaki was going to kill you. Why else would he want the audio and video off? He couldn’t possibly be letting you go.

Matsuda sighed. “Okay, Ryuzaki, if you say so.” There was a click, soon followed by a second one, and the feedback finally silenced.

You let out an involuntary whimper through your gag. Now you were really alone, and with the blindfold you only had your fate to ponder. Was this it?

You felt Ryuzaki move closer to you, and you bit down on your gag, anticipating his next move- but to your surprise, you felt slender fingers grasp your blindfold and undo it, the metal headpiece falling from your face.

Instantly, you were blinded by the light, and a series of shapes and light exploded in front of your eyes. Flinching, you automatically shut your eyes again, completely overwhelmed with sensory input given you’d been blindfolded for days on end with no break whatsoever. You didn’t even get to see your captor’s face. However, you still felt when he removed the dirty gag from your mouth, the foul taste of the rag damp with your saliva finally leaving.

You couldn’t help the giant gulp of air you took right after Ryuzaki removed the gag, having had a lot of your airway obstructed for almost a week. For quite a while, you just coughed and gasped, making up for lost breath while Ryuzaki simply stood a short distance in front of you and watched.

When your coughing spell finally ceased and you were able to see for the most part, you at last slowly lifted your head from its loll on your chest- coming face to face with your captor at last. And to say the least, you were rather caught off guard.

He was fairly tall, a height you would expect for a man about the age he looked, but that was about the only thing conventional about him. You’d thought it would be a more refined man, polished and cold and calculating, like the head of an organized crime group. However, you were instead met with a pale face with wide, sunken-in gray eyes, a pallor over his entire body and his black hair wildly arranged all over his head. Along with that, he had on a mere white T-shirt and baggy jeans- and no shoes!- rather than the more debonair attire you’d expected him to wear. Pretty much everything about the man was in contrast to what you had thought him to be, and you couldn’t suppress the shocked expression that came across your face.

Ryuzaki tilted his head at you upon seeing your expression. “Surprised?”

You said nothing, instead recoiling back against the metal board. No matter what he looked like, this was still your kidnapper who had held you hostage for five days.

“No need to look so nervous.” Ryuzaki shrugged nonchalantly. It was as if he’d done this a million times. “I’m not down here to harm you.”

“You aren’t?” It just popped out. You didn’t know you remembered how to speak words other than the same mantra of “Yes,” “No,” or “I don’t know” in reply to Ryuzaki’s endless interrogation questions.

“Your enunciation is surprisingly good for someone who’s had a gag in their mouth for the past several days,” Ryuzaki remarked casually, his eyes drifting from yours down to your lips. He placed his hands behind his back and slowly circled the metal board you were bound to, inspecting you closely. Revolted, you shrank against the metal as much as possible, trying to avoid his scrutinizing gaze.

Finally, Ryuzaki came back around in front of you. “Your tense body language would suggest that you’re rather wary of me.” He paused, inching closer to you still. “I’m not surprised.”

“No shit,” you managed, giving the detective the most beseeching glare you could.

Ryuzaki tilted his head at you. “Well, it’s nice to see you still have at least a bit of fight in you, hm?” Then, all of a sudden, he brought his face directly up to yours, his wide gray eyes burning into yours and startling you. You recoiled as much as possible, but found yourself unable to break away from his gaze. “Now, tell me- what? Do you know? About Kira.” His voice was just a low hiss, and you felt your heart pound in your chest and your breath speed up. Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you retorted, “I told you already- I don’t know anything.”

Ryuzaki pulled back after hearing those words, his expression going back to it’s normal stoic self. He didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Alright. Since you don’t seem to be cooperating, I suppose I’ll have to take on another tactic to get you to talk.” Ryuzaki turned away and vanished around a corner for a moment, and for a brief moment you felt scared that he was going to pull out something like a knife or a taser to torture information out of you. But when the detective reappeared, he had something you definitely weren’t expecting him to come out with.

“A vibrator?” you sputtered, unable to contain your disbelief. Ryuzaki didn’t seem rattled by your outburst at all, only fiddling with the device in his hand before looking back up to address you.

“I assume you were expecting me to emerge with some… torture device of some sort. But when it comes to these things, I find pleasure is a much more effective method of interrogation,” Ryuzaki explained, approaching you with the vibrator. “Since you won’t talk, I’ll just have to make you. Now, stay still for me so I can get these clothes out of the way.” Ryuzaki kneeled to the ground and picked up a knife, making you jump, but he addressed you again. “Don’t worry. I just need to take off your clothes without undoing your restraints.”

This helped your nerves a little bit, but not really. Still, you figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to fight him while he had the knife so close to your skin. Ryuzaki held you around the waist with one hand to keep your body still while he dragged the knife down the raggedy white garment you had on, slicing the cloth in half and allowing it to fall from your body effortlessly. You flinched when you felt the cold air hit your skin, but as your body was exposed, you noticed something odd.

“Ah. Judging by the look on your face, I assume you’ve noticed that you’re a little… messy between the legs.”

You looked up at Ryuzaki abruptly. You were indeed unusually wet, despite hardly being aroused- although even when you were you normally weren’t this wet. “What did you do?”

Ryuzaki’s tone was indifferent, as always. “I had a feeling that when I gave you the chemical in the drink that you spilled that you would resist. However, I was prepared. When you were asleep earlier today, I managed to give you the aphrodisiac anyway.” He paused for a second. “However… I think I may have given you slightly more than what was needed to stimulate your erogenous zones, so forgive me.” Ryuzaki bent back down so he was on his knees on the ground with his head level with your crotch. “I’ll ask you one more time, Y/N, before I touch you. What do you know about Kira?”

You bit your lip, legs squirming a bit, but didn’t reply. Ryuzaki waited for your reply, but when he saw that you weren’t going to offer him anything, he turned the vibrator in his hand on and brought it to your exposed clit, making you let out a whimper and try and close your legs.

“Ah, ah, ah- no use in struggling. Your legs are bound, remember?” Ryuzaki reminded you airily, circling the vibrator around your clit lightly. The pleasure making your knees weak made you almost glad that you were leaned against the metal board- his aphrodisiac had been very effective, apparently, because even though Ryuzaki was being quite gentle you were already wriggling and moaning.

“This vibrator does have higher settings, you know,” Ryuzaki informed you. “And I must want you, I can do this all day.” He had the ghost of a smile on his face when he said this, and you knew he wasn’t bluffing. As if to make a point, he hit a button on the vibrator, and you instantly felt when the vibrations increased, your breath hitching as your back arched. “There’s no point in denying that you know anything about Kira, so why don’t you just skip the hassle and tell me what you know?”

You found it difficult to respond with the sensation from the vibrator taking over your senses, but you still managed to say something. “He- isn’t from Japan. He lives in- ah!”

Ryuzaki pressed the vibrator harder against your sensitive clit, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Don’t bother lying. I conducted an experiment aged ago that verified that Kira is in fact Japanese. Try again. And it would be appreciated if you didn’t lie this time.”

Your breathing was heavy and your body flushed, your juices spilling out onto the tips of Ryuzaki’s fingers. God, you wished he hadn’t drugged you, because the pleasure was already almost overwhelming. “Fuck- fine, he is Japanese.”

His tone was hard. “Didn’t I just tell you that I know that already? Why don’t you share with me identifying details about his identity. Try his age, appearance, birthday, or the school he goes to. Are you not a high school senior? Have you noticed anybody that stands out in particular?”

You scoffed. “Why would Kira be in high school? What high school kid has time to commit mass murders like this?”

Wrong answer. Ryuzaki turned up the vibrator higher still and dragged it down your dripping slit until it was positioned at your hole. Slowly, he slid the top of the vibrator inside of you with a very wet sound and began pumping it agonizingly slowly, up and down.

You felt your legs immediately begin to tremble, feeling your own arousal slide down your thighs. With every thrust of the vibrator you let out a whimper, squirming like crazy but unable to escape as Ryuzaki placed one hand on your thigh to still you a bit. Your whole lower body throbbed with arousal and pleasure.

“Ah- please, Ryuzaki-“

“Please? Please, what?” Ryuzaki queried, seemingly not affected at all by how needy you clearly were. “Do you want to orgasm? Is that what it is, Y/N?”

You whimpered and nodded, still squirming and moaning with the vibrator moving inside you. Ryuzaki kept his pace slow and steady, making sure to drag it out as much as possible. You didn’t know how this could feel so amazing and yet awful at the same time, your peak just within reach but escaping every time you were close enough. And you knew that Ryuzaki knew this.

“I’ll let you come all you’d like if you just give me the information I want to know,” Ryuzaki told you plainly. “I’m listening.”

You didn’t want to give Ryuzaki the satisfaction, but god, did the vibrator feel absolutely amazing going in and out of your soaking hole like this- and the aphrodisiac just made you more needy.

“Oh… oh, fuck, mmm, okay- please, Ryuzaki, stop moving the-“

“Oh, is the pleasure too much for you? You are indeed very wet…” Ryuzaki finally paused his movements with the vibrator, and despite the ache you felt in your entrance for more, you were finally able to answer Ryuzaki properly for the most part.

You let out a shaky breath, legs shaking. “I don’t know his first name, but his last name is Yagami. We’re the top students in our class, and one day when we were studying together he told me he was Kira.”

Ryuzaki paused for a moment. “Hm. You don’t seem to be lying this time.” He peered up at your flushed, glistening face before looking back down at the vibrator moist with your juices. Muttering to himself, he said, “Hm, I was right- I did dose you with too much of the aphrodisiac…” Regardless, he slipped the vibrator back inside of you, making you let out a broken moan as he pumped it in and out. “Good girl. Now answer one more question for me.”

You were trembling again, your walls squeezing around the vibrator. Your thighs were wet and sticky now as you nodded, trying to stifle the lewd sounds leaving your lips.

“Alright. How does Kira kill?”

This question made your heart skip a beat- revealing the answer, depending on what Ryuzaki did with it, could be very incriminating and have major implications for mankind as a whole. You hesitated, and Ryuzaki noticed, stopping the movements of the vibrator yet again.

“Go on,” Ryuzaki prompted, waiting expectantly. The vibrator was just centimeters away from your throbbing sex, and you could hear the vibration from beneath you.

Shit. Were you really so desperate that you’d give away something like this?

Apparently so. You wanted to blame it on the aphrodisiac, but you knew you couldn’t do that this time.

“You… won’t believe me, but… there’s something called a Death Note. Whenever you write someone’s name in it, that person dies. I don’t really know all the details, but… that’s how he kills.”

Ryuzaki seemed actually startled by this information, but he didn’t question it, so he knew you weren’t lying. He quickly covered up his surprise with his usual mask of indifference, waiting a few moments before speaking again.

“Oh. Alright, then. I’ll have to retrieve more details later, but for now that will suffice. You seem to have given me all the information you have.”

You didn’t reply, but your back was arched, your pelvis close to L’s head.

Ryuzaki looked back up all of a sudden. “Oh. Right. I suppose it’s only fair of me to let you orgasm.”

You were relieved, as the ache in your pussy was becoming too much to bear. To your surprise, though, Ryuzaki turned the vibrator off and set it on the ground beside him. But before you could be confused about it, he leaned straight down to your sex, the tip of his nose resting just above it, and began to slide his warm tongue along your clit, stopping in between licks to plant sucking kisses along your dripping cunt.

Your legs weakened instantly, and you rode Ryuzaki’s tongue as best as you could strapped to the metal board. The heat and wetness from his mouth felt better than you could have ever imagined, and as you approached your climax, your moans faded into whimpers and broken whines of Ryuzaki’s name. He wrapped his lips around your swollen clit and sucked it slowly, gently, and slipped two slender fingers inside of your sopping hole as well, pumping them back and forth like he did the vibrator.

You came mere minutes later, legs quivering violently and breathing heavily. With a moan of Ryuzaki’s name, you finished in his mouth, spilling from the corners of his lips and running down his chin as he peered up at you through his unkempt black hair. He licked all of your cum off of your thighs, running his tongue up and down the length of your thighs and making you shiver at the feeling.

When Ryuzaki was done, he pulled away from your aching and overstimulated cunt before getting back to his feet with the vibrator in hand while you were still trying to catch your breath and still your trembling thighs.

Before you could react, the detective leaned in and kissed you gently on the lips, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You shuddered as you felt your own cum slide down your chin, and Ryuzaki pulled away. “I appreciate you giving me this information. Watari will be down to provide you with a new garment shortly. It may be a while longer before I allow you to leave, but this will be quite helpful.”

And with that, he was gone before you could even answer.

[jediwrites]

this won’t work

pairing: anakin skywalker x jedi knight fem!reader

theme: angst/comfort

summary: after a mission, you’re feeling like shit, anakin comes to comfort you.

warnings: a little angst, but we get the confort part too :) mentions of nightmares, toxic thinking (i guess? idk how to name it sorry), sad feelings, probably grammar mistakes

word count: 881

A/N: hello there, just a small work to start (idk if i can call this angst?). i'm really excited to share this with y’all, it’s far from the best but i liked how it turned out. this is the first time i post my writing, so i'm afraid, but really happy too, so i hope yall like it. if you want to make a request (or just want to talk) feel free to ask!

You felt the sweat getting down on your forehead and spine with every swing of your saber, your hands held the base with a strong grip, trying to stop the trembling. You had been in the training room for hours. It was probably late at night, but you didn’t care. You would be there until your body ran out of energy or ran out of those feelings that were consuming your very being. The meditation wasn’t working, so the saber fight had to.  

You shouldn’t be letting those feelings consume you. So much shame, regret, anger. You were a Jedi, for the Maker’s sake. It seems like you were incapable of controlling it, though. You had failed them, how it would be possible for you to not feel anything? 

Since the attack of Grievous and his droids, it has been impossible for you to have a good night. Every time you tried to close your eyes and let sleep take you, the sounds of screams and shots flood your dreams, with the creepy laugh of the cyborg being the melody of them. So you wake up more tired than before. Wanting to run away from those memories, your mind came to the idea that if you worked your body to exhaustion, you probably wouldn’t have dreams or nightmares. 

“This won’t work at all” a voice suddenly filled the room, startling you and making you come to a halt. Your distraction almost got you hit by a blaster, but you deflected it with a fast swing of your lightsaber. With a command, you turned off the droid.

“You scared me, you idiot!”

The man laughed. “Well, I can’t say that wasn’t my objective.”

Rolling your eyes, you retracted your lightsaber, putting it in your belt. Drying the sweat from your forehead with your robe’s sleeve, you turned in his direction.

Looking at Anakin made your heart skip a beat. That’s probably because of the intensive training you were doing seconds ago, nothing related to the man, of course. Crossing your arms over your chest, you spoke:

“I thought you were on a mission.” You weren’t expecting to see him so soon, but you felt the relief of seeing Anakin again getting through your body. 

“You thought right, but the council called me to get back to Coruscant.” Anakin had his arms crossed in his back, with every word he did say, he gave a step to your direction. You kept still, waiting. With only a small distance between you, Anakin put one of his hands on your shoulder, squeezing softly. “Are you alright?”

His caring tone made you break. Before you could prevent it, your eyes were burning and your face was buried in his chest, with his arms around you. You were crying like a baby, probably his robe would be wet after that, but you couldn't care less, neither could he. 

After some time of your crying being the only sound in the room, you calmed down, feeling Anakin’s hand soothing your back. You missed him so much.

“It’s alright, you’ll be alright.”

You moved your head from his chest, being able to see his face without getting away from his embrace. Anakin got a small smile on his lips, you could see the sadness in his eyes. He knew very well what you were feeling. Losing men to the battle wasn't an easy thing that you could just forget that happened, but going on after surviving and fighting for those who had fallen was the best to do. Dwelling in the possibilities of what could have happened if another decision or move had been taken, wouldn’t bring anything good.

Letting his mechanic hand on your back, he put the other in your face, getting rid of the remaining tears from your cheeks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You thought about it. Maybe it would help, the last time you spoke about the fateful day was with the council, and if you would be honest you didn’t say everything. Right, you told them how you and the soldiers got to fight Grievous and the casualties, but besides the strategic thing — and the tragedy —, you didn't say anything more. In your mind, telling them about how this mission affected you would make them perceive you as weak, or worse, perceive you as someone incapable of returning to the battlefield. So to not give chances, you kept every feeling to yourself.

“No,” you said. “Not now, at least.” 

Having Anakin in your arms made you feel more at ease. It was ironic how this very man, who has a mixture of emotions flooding from himself, was the one capable of soothing your stormy feelings.

A thought passed through your mind, making you a bit embarrassed. Wanting to hide this from him, you got your head back in his chest, tightening even more your arms around him. 

“But I will be glad if you could stay with me, like this, for tonight,” you whispered, a comment only for his ears.

The sound of his laugh made a smile appear on your lips. “My beautiful girl, you don’t have to ask again.” Anakin kissed the top of your head, whispering back. “I won't let you go from my arms tonight” or ever.

[cottonlemonade]

Takeout And Makeout

word count: 850 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: University!AU Oikawa x inexperienced chubby!Reader

genre: suggestive(?) fluff, new relationship

warnings: eh, none really, some smoochin

synopsis: you’re a TA and Oikawa comes to visit you in the office late at night (okay, maybe not late at night but y’all are alone and it’s dark outside) - he enjoys making you flustered

Your shoulders cracked satisfyingly as you stretched your arms above your head. It was past 8 and the professors had gone home for the night - not before leaving you, their TA, with plenty of things to finish up before you could head back to your dorm yourself. Muttering under your breath, you put on some nondescript background music and turned the page of a paper you had to proofread.

As you wouldn't get home before 10 or 11, you contemplated having food delivered and tapped around on your phone trying to find an enticing menu.

Your concentration really hadn’t lasted long. Wow.

But, unable to focus, you abandoned even the food search and went through your latest messages with Tooru. How you had to blow him off, because you were stuck in your professor's office and how adorably gloomy his responses had been. You smiled at the pouting selfie he sent last. Much to your dismay you hadn't seen him in person for a couple of days and you stared off into space for a moment, letting your last meeting pass before your inner eye. The setting sun, the cicadas, his confession, the hug and the kiss. It had been replaying in your head over and over. For weeks he had pretended to need your tutoring before he finally worked up the courage to ask you out. You felt giddy all over again at the thought.

A quiet knock burst your bubble and you went to unlock the office door.

"Good evening, y/n-chan.", Tooru said with his dazzling smile.

"Hey! What are you doing here?", you asked, a little squeaky from excitement to see him.

He held up a delicious smelling bag and you beamed in appreciation.

"Thank you."

You almost leaped aside in your eagerness to let him in and he looked around the office, setting the food down in the middle of the large table.

After he took off his jacket, he turned to face you.

“Don’t forget to tip the delivery person.”

He leaned forward with an expectant grin and after shaking your head at his cheesiness, you gave him a peck on the cheek. For a moment he hesitated, then closed the gap between you two and snaked his arms around your waist.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Tooru pulled you close and had obviously no intention of letting go as he nuzzled into your neck, squeezing your soft hips ever so slightly. You had no idea how he managed to make his hugs feel so sweet yet … sensual.

"Kiss me.", you sighed quietly, hoping immediately he didn't hear it. Even though you were a year older, he had far more experience in dating than you.

But Tooru pulled away a bit and pressed his lips to your forehead, sending a warm shiver down your spine. He looked in your eyes, a taunting smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Of course he knew what you had actually meant. It was obvious from the way he cocked his brow so infuriatingly self-assured.

When you didn't say anything but your puppy eyes grew bigger, he decided to tease.

"Was that not what you wanted, y/n-chan?", he asked, his voice smooth and low.

You took a silent breath, feeling rather stupid when you mumbled, "My lips."

He leaned down and you caught your breath, but he only turned his head a bit to the side as if to hear better.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

You squirmed a little in his arms, making him chuckle but he kept eye contact, his gaze burning on your skin.

"Kiss my lips.", you said, still quietly but at least stronger than before.

"Yes… Senpai.", he purred and leaned down again. His lips only brushed yours at first, probably testing to see if you really were fine with it, then he added more pressure, more breath, more… hands. He squeezed your hips again - a new favorite pastime of his - before fully enclosing you in his strong arms, keeping you trapped between him and the table. Your head was spinning but it just felt too good to stop. Your friends had told you that when a kiss was really good, you'd feel drunk. The rational part of your brain explained it with the (terribly unromantic) probable occurrence of oxygen deficiency, but right now all you cared about was him. His lips, his hands, his lean muscular body pressed against your plush curves, your fingers developing a life of their own and sliding up to the back of his neck, needing to feel him more.

Once you both ran out of breath, you just rested your foreheads against each other, both grinning like idiots in your lightheadedness.

His lips were pink and a little swollen and you were tempted to pull him in again, but he laced your fingers with his and kissed the tip of your nose.

"We should eat before it gets cold."

You nodded and smiled when he gave you one more sweet kiss, then pulled up a chair for you to sit.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#38: The Scars (1.04)

gif cred: @nat111love

In their years apart, Richonne endured some scarring moments that left literal scars on their bodies. They sadly weren't able to be there to help patch each other up from those physical scars back then. But they are here together now to finally open up about the scars, and it leads to a very moving conversation🥺...

So after the Roomba interruption, Michonne lays back down and Rick returns to placing an arm over her as they talk about the things they noticed in the building. I always love a good Richonne chatting while cuddled up in bed moment.

gif cred: @nobleriver

Rick asks if Michonne noticed how thin the walkers were and Michonne notes how they may have starved. Rick talks about how the buildings’ former inhabitants kept this place going for a good while, and I always love seeing that Michonne is playing with his hair while he speaks. They really are back, y’all. 😋 ...Or at least almost back. And, again I love how comfy they both look in this scene.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Michonne talks about how the people here were innovating and wanted to create another way and then she says, “But no crops?” 

Rick says, “Well even if they did have them, crops fail.” See, he may not know Roombas and tech but the farmer's son is well-versed in crops. 😋 I love seeing him just comfortingly rubbing her while he talks. And just the way they’re communicating here it feels like they're a well-oiled machine...But then there’s a slight machine malfunction. 🙃

Because then Rick says, “One bad harvest - something has to burn to bring it back.” Michonne is curious about this and it seems she can tell there’s something more behind the comment so she asks, “What?” And then as I unfortunately suspected, Rick reveals he does in fact have a tad more audacity left in him when he says, “If I can change the CRM there’s a chance for future generations, a real chance.”

gif cred: @nat111love

Y’all…😪.

Every time I hear that I just sigh. Like this was truly me having a great time with this scene and then hearing the CRM get brought up again...

You know how there are safe words in the bedroom? There should also be banned words in the bedroom and 'CRM' is most definitely a banned word.

Now I fully empathize with the pain, fear, and PTSD that is motivating Rick to be saying this. But I still wasn’t here for it, especially after Michonne had just kindly opened up with him in every way and now he’s right back to hurting her with this back and forth. 😔

I was curious what would prompt Rick to bring this up here again after they were having such a nice moment together. Like I get the crops comment had him thinking about his dad's sacrifice and his own sacrifice, but I also think Rick brings it up here because of how great and blissful he and Michonne’s moments together just were.

It’s like this CRM comment is an act of self-sabotage because he ultimately still believes he can’t just go home with Michonne and the more time he spends with her in their lovely Richonne bubble the harder it’ll be to follow through with what he thinks has to be done. So it’s like this is his attempt to pop the bubble for his wife’s safety. 

Plus, right now every good moment with Michonne seems to also serve as another reminder for Rick of how unbearable it'll ever be to lose her permanently. And so with this CRM comment, he attempts to "get ahead of" being back with her completely, knowing it'll kill him if he returns to her and something tragic happens and forces him to remain in this world without her in it.

I was also very curious to see how Michonne would respond to Rick saying this since it's understandably frustrating. And she proved yet again that she’s the best wife when she has such a loving response.

gif cred: @nat111love

Looking just so captivatingly beautiful she gives Rick this empathetic smile and then because their kisses are communication she doesn’t even say anything at first, she just gently takes his face in her hands and kisses him. 🥲

gif cred: @nat111love

The she softly says, “You’re still lying to me. You’re lying to yourself.” I love how this is yet another great depiction of how Michonne is so simultaneously good at empathy and accountability. 👏🏽

I think after witnessing Rick's panic attack, Michonne now knows that whatever this wall is that Rick keeps trying to put up is not something he’s doing to shut her out but really to shut himself out. To shut out Alive Rick. So rather than get angry, she feels for him and knows that whatever is going on inside him is very deep-seated and heavy for him.

And this back and forth undoubtedly hurts her, but like a truly selfless gem, Michonne also acknowledges how this hurts him. Rick has the best wife on the planet and it only gets more confirmed as the scene progresses. 👌🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

She doesn’t tiptoe around addressing the fact that Rick is lying to her and she also doesn’t beat around the bush when telling Rick what he needs to hear which is that he’s lying to himself too. And she’s spot on. Michonne has always been able to call Rick out with such grace.

I love how she keeps her hand lovingly on his face as she drops these truths and the way Rick is entranced yet again by her. I was like - Michonne, you might be onto something kissing him in a moment like this because that’s a surefire way to get him to snap out of CRM mode for a sec.

gif cred: @nat111love

But also, I feel like she kissed him because one; she feels for him, and two; she knows the tough conversations and hashing things out is likely about to resume so she’s like let me kiss my man one more time just in case it ends up being the last time, depending on how this conversation goes lol. 😅

After Michonne notes that Rick is still lying to them both, I love the look she gives him before getting up from the bed. One; gorgeous and two; her look just feels like she knows that CRM pillow talk has ended any chance of another round.

gif cred: @nat111love

When Michonne does get up her X scar is visible and I feel like they knew we wanted a moment of Rick touching the scar and since TOWL came to check everything it can off the wishlists, we sure enough get this moment of Rick gently touching her scar. I love to see it. 🥹

gif cred: @notwithoutmycoffee

I remember first watching that traumatic season 9 Scars episode years ago and just thinking how badly I wanted Rick to be able to comfort Michonne after she went through that horribleness - and now here we are. 😌

And I always find it sweet that despite saying that CRM stuff and Michonne calling him out for lying, the second Rick sees her scar that becomes his focus. He’s always honed in on her which is sweet. 😊 And you know each time he's seen that scar, he wishes he could have been there to protect her from whatever happened.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Rick inquires saying, “this mark on your back” and Michonne sighs and says “Yeah.” Then she tells Rick the details of what happened and I am so glad she had a chance to share about the experiences she’s been through. 👏🏽

After TOWL Episode 3, I remember I was talking with my brother and I was saying I really hope the next episode has a moment where it feels like everything Michonne’s been through and feeling gets proper acknowledgment and I adore that Danai really did give her incredible character the much-deserved and much-needed space for this. 🥲🙌🏽

Michonne explains that the scar came from a woman that she let into Alexandria who was also a college buddy. Rick is surprised to learn she knew her and Michonne says, “Yep. I was searching for you every day, me and Daryl.” I’m glad she got to tell Rick that she searched for him every day.

It’s interesting the tone in which she’s saying this as she gets dressed and stays facing away from him. There’s this sort of detachment as if she has to speak about this with a bit of a wall up because it’s such a sensitive thing that really traumatized her and it’s like perhaps it’s hard to be vulnerable with Rick right now when it’s unclear which Rick she’ll be talking to.

Even just the act of her getting dressed when they def were about to be intimate again prior shows that she’s having to put some guard up a bit more. And it makes sense because I love the guy truly but Rick’s behavior has really been giving whiplash. 

Michonne says, “There was no body, no trace. I couldn’t stop believing you were still out there needing help, needing me.” I love that she knows their soulmatism would mean that wherever Rick was he needed her specifically. And she was right. Rick literally needed even just the vision of her in a dream to keep going. 

This line reminded me of a moment in season 6 when Maggie doesn’t know if Glenn is dead or alive. She tells Aaron that if Glenn is alive then she knows he’s somewhere needing her. That’s a feeling Michonne had to live with every day for almost 8 years…knowing if Rick is alive then he’s out there needing her. Not just needing help, needing her.

So it was already hard enough mourning his unknown fate in a different way than everyone else because she knew him differently and more personally than anyone else, but then to also have to live with this strong gnawing feeling that he was out there needing her had to just add a whole other level of pain to the situation.

Michonne says, “Everyone thought I was crazy” and I was like - Rick, if you only knew the way so many of those people back home were not there for your wife during this time. 😔 Like so many members of team family were lacking in being the family she needed.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And it’s so sad to know that Michonne knew pretty much everyone thought she was crazy. But I love that she kept believing anyway because Richonne’s love is too strong to let any outside perspectives dim what she knows to be true about her and Rick’s connection. 

She then says how while everyone else thought she was crazy Joycelyn encouraged her to keep looking. It just sucks that the reason she encouraged Michonne is because she’s actually psychotic and wanted to kidnap ASZ’s children. 😖 Like Joycelyn even tho you're long gone, please know...

Michonne then has a moment where she sighs and says, “I was 7 months pregnant.” 🥺 I’m glad she included that detail because it makes everything that happened in Scars extra egregious even tho it was already wildly egregious. Plus, you know it has to hit Rick to know that Michonne endured this during such a vulnerable time of being pregnant with his child just months after his disappearance.

This highlights Michonne's resilience but also has to wake Rick up to the fact that if he isn’t home with her, she’s still at risk of enduring really painful things. She'll just endure it alone and there’s no way he wants that. 

Michonne finally turns to Rick and tells him, “She stole Judith and some other kids. She was sick, twisted. Did this to me and Daryl. We stopped her. I don’t want to go into how.” And it makes sense. For Michonne, what she had to do that day is clearly one of the most haunting and horrific things she’s ever experienced so I get that she doesn’t want to have to relive that right now.

But Rick does want to confirm one very important detail when he asks, “You killed her?”

Michonne assures him “Yes” and then this is when we see a flash of that Season 5 Rick because he looks at Michonne and says a very firm and affirming, “Good.” I love this. 🥲

gif cred: @notwithoutmycoffee

It’s clear Rick wants to go dig Joycelyn up and kill her again for the trauma he put his wife and children through.

I was like Michonne, maybe you should have told Rick that Joycelyn is still alive - because that would have had Rick in the car in 3 seconds ready to go home so he could finish the job lol. Tell me Rick wouldn't have hopped up off that bed like...

I love the protectiveness of the way he says "good." You know Rick would have done every dark thing Michonne had to do had he been there in that season 9 episode.

I remember in a s9 RIR post I wrote how part of why Michonne had to wrestle so much with what she had to do in taking out those kids was because she didn’t have Rick there to let her know it’s okay. Like how he had her there to let him know he was okay after his most traumatic act of killing someone with his teeth.

I knew had Rick learned of that Scars' situation he would be wholly supportive of Michonne and feel she was right to do what she did. And so it was nice to see exactly that at this moment in TOWL.

Now, I saw some viewers were upset that Rick doesn’t acknowledge Daryl in this scene...but Rick is hearing that his pregnant wife was branded and his daughter was kidnapped - that’s bound to be the priority for him right now. And it’s not for lack of love for Daryl, it's just there’s a time and place to address him and this wasn't it. Michonne is telling Rick about some of the deep-rooted trauma she’s carried during their years apart. That’s the focus for the two right now and that’s more than okay because...

Michonne looks so sad as she tells Rick, “I stopped looking for you.” And Rick looks sad but understanding as he nods upon hearing this.

It’s interesting how, despite having every reason to think she witnessed Rick blow up and die on that bridge, Michonne still tells him “I stopped looking for you” as like an apologetic confession. And I think that’s because they are so connected and she really was feeling his presence alive out there and so, even tho she had very valid reasons for why she stopped, she still feels sorry that she stopped looking for him when she knew in her heart he was findable.

Michonne says, “I had to take care of the baby. Take care of Judith.” And I’m just moved by this. 🥺 Because it wasn’t even like she stopped looking cuz she gave up or because she was too depressed to keep looking - no, it was cause she still had these important responsibilities to her young daughter and newborn. And she took such good care of her babies even amid her grief. 😭

I like that we see Rick’s watery-eyed reaction to hearing the mother of his children say that she had to take care of their kids. But even with having to stop looking, Michonne lets him know she never moved on from him.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Rick tends to think he’s someone people can just move on from but I love that through Michonne he constantly gets reminded of how treasured he is. She says, “But I kept believing that you were not gone forever.” Rick looks into her eyes and it’s like he’s getting yet another confirmation of what his dreams continually reminded him of - which is that Michonne wholeheartedly believes in him.

And then I love that she says, “I still believe that.” Even when it feels like her Rick might be gone, she still believes that he’s not gone forever. 🥹 Love it so much. She’s really honoring that 'believe a little longer' motto. 👌🏽

Rick silently looks in her eyes for a moment and this whole scene and episode really just feels like an exchange between two halves of one soul. The way they depict soulmates like no other is something to behold. 👏🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

And right now there’s this underlying complication because Rick has this guard up and yet every time he and Michonne look at each other he knows she can see right through his walls and is beckoning for him to finally let the guard down and express what’s really going on inside. 

Rick starts to get dressed and it’s almost like feeling so figuratively bare before her makes him put on another layer. But they are soulmates so nothing can ever really stop her from seeing and knowing all of him.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne watches and turns toward him and when she looks down she can see his handless arm. For the most part that arm had always had the prosthetic but now she gets to reach down and touch it and the way she gently touches his arm is so precious. 🥺

I adore the parallel of both Rick and Michonne touching each other's scars that they both received during some of the most traumatic and hardest days of their life.

After enduring those things alone and in the name of love for each other and their kids, they now get to be here face to face and healing each other with their loving touch and care. 🥹

As Michonne touches his arm she says, “You did this to get away.” That has to really move her. Like knowing Rick was willing to cut off his own hand to get away immediately paints the picture of his determination and desperation to get home. And as crazy as that act of chopping off his own hand is, Michonne doesn’t look at him as crazy for it. They’re both intensely devoted to family so she gets it. 👌🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick looks into her eyes and says, “It was the only way.” Michonne says, “You were trying to come home.” And Rick repeats, “I was trying to come home.” I like how he wants to assure her of that. Like while now he keeps saying he won’t go home, there was a time that Rick was fighting like hell to get home. And that’s part of why he’s so convinced he can’t make it home anymore - because of all the taxing thwarted attempts he's tried before.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love that Michonne says, “You’re still trying. I see it.” Even despite the BS, she knows Rick’s heart is still pulling him toward home. 🥲 His heart is pulling him toward her so that’s the same thing as pulling him toward home.

And again, it’s so effective for Michonne to just softly ask these questions and statements regarding Rick’s hand because one; it’s reminding him of what he most wanted and pursued in his past which was to go home and be with his wife and family. And two; it's reminding him how he should still go after what he most wants in the present too.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how she stays comfortingly holding his arm as she reminds him, “You have the button. You could have hit it, Rick. You haven’t.” That’s a great point. I had forgot that he’s had access to the PRB ever since Michonne gave it to him earlier in the episode. Not pressing it definitely shows that he’s not nearly as eager to involve the CRM again like he claims. 

gif cred: @nat111love

Then I love the dialogue with Michonne saying, “You say you can’t go home but I don’t think you can go back.” It’s said so tenderly and as always she’s absolutely right.

Seeing Michonne be there for Rick like this, it made me think about how Rick's past saw him needed as a provider but with Michonne he gets to feel needed and valued most of all as a person, as exactly who he is.

It’s why I think Michonne is the absolute best person to have rescued him because he needed to find himself again through someone who views his role not just as a protector/provider but as a true partner, equal, and love. She's the one who will always fight alongside him and fight for him the same way he does for her.

gif cred: @nat111love

And then y’all, cue my tears because Michonne then lovingly touches his handless arm and emotionally says, “I’m sorry for what they did to you.” 🥺 I have to pause and collect myself after that line. 😭

The way Michonne depicts a wife’s love is just something special. 🥹But also it’s so moving how this just feels like she's expressing from human to human that she feels for him and the pain he's been through.

And even tho Rick hasn’t yet told her exactly what the CRM did that has him so traumatized, in this moment you know Michonne can sense and feel what has yet to be expressed.

I love that Rick is loved on like this by this incredible woman. 🥹 She cares about him so much and after enduring a lot alone for years, I'm so glad Rick has his soulmate back. He needs her and her tender loving care desperately after going without any of this type of care for years.

gif cred: @nat111love

And again, the wording stands out because she knows that what is making him this way isn’t him but something done to him. They did something. And I love that she is continually trying to free Rick from the burden of thinking what he’s become is all his fault or a product of his failure when really he’s a traumatized captor of the CRM.

It's interesting because yes the Civic Republic/CRM didn’t deliberately torture Rick, in fact for many the place is a sanctuary, but they kept Rick from his family and therefore they put him through a fate worse than death. 😔

When Michonne offers him this sincere empathy, Rick looks at her and you can hear his shaky breathing come back a little bit. Again he’s being the most seen and loved that he’s been in nearly a decade and it’s like there’s this anxiousness because he knows there’s something he needs to open up about but he’s kept it inside for so long and so it seems overwhelming to open the floodgates. Especially when he’s still convinced that the best thing he can do is keep Michonne away from him and the ‘poison’ that’s over him due to the CRM.

gif cred: @nat111love

But fortunately, he’s with the one person who can always get him to be real no matter what and so that’s exactly what happens as this scene continues. 

I truly appreciate this series of events for the touching way it allowed Richonne to address each other's literal scars and segway into addressing the even more painful invisible scars that they’ve got from having gone without each other all these years.

And if I thought the acting and dialogue were great already…it reached new heights of excellence in these following moments. 👏🏽😌

[chuuyasheaven]

keep listening to the voices

“—Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming, ‘donna.”

“Today was really stressful for him, so he was happy to finally just find peace in you. But in those thigh highs you were wearing, he took it way too literally. .”

Tags: Dazai Osamu / afab! Reader, slight chubby! Reader, thicc thighs, feral! Dazai, rough sex, oral (afab! recieving), dacryphilia, fingering, praising kink, degrading kink, overstimulation, pet names, might contain grammar errors, kinda rushed, kinda cringe?, jus’ a drabble, etc.

Notes: Damn, y’all really are encouraging my voices, aren’t you? Filthy fucks. . .(enjoy anyway lmao)

There are rare days where Dazai actually does his work, which is usually a lot, in those days, he returns home annoyed and stressed. Another thing is, that he seeks your comfort. But this time, he changed his plans.

Why? You should know, seriously. Since you’re kinda chubby, you have thick thighs. The thighs that Dazai loves so much, especially when they’re in thigh highs. The reason’s pretty obvious, he loves how the slightly flow over them.

Whenever you’re in those, he either eats you out or fucks you really good. Bonus if you wear his shirt without anything but panties. But what if you combine those with a stressed Dazai? Well, you can find out yourself.

Right after he came through that door, looking for you, and saw you in his shirt and thigh highs? He absolutely lost control and became feral. So instead of just either eating you out or fuck you rough, he combined those too.

Ever since he came home, he already ate you out once, but didn’t stop after that. Dazai kept on going as if he starved himself. “. . Ah! D–dazai, please. .”, you whimpered for him to hear, he lifted his head to smirk at you. “Y’know, if you keep moaning my name like this I won’t stop anytime soon, ‘donna.”, Dazai teased you before returning to your wet folds. You threw your head back as his warm breath hit your cunt, you covered your mouth to refrain any further moan. He didn’t like that, to say the least.

As an solution, Dazai lifted himself slightly once more to level your thighs, looking at them as he gently kissed them. Those kisses turned into gentle bites, especially on places where he knew you were sensitive.

Still no sound coming from you, he just got back to your pussy, this time, he replaced his tongue with his talented fingers. With those fingers, he reached your sweet spot, the spot that always made you reach high notes. “. .F–fuck!”, you muttered under your breath, loud enough for him to hear.

“There we go,”, Dazai claimed proudly. You tried to muffle your moans again, but this, Dazai didn’t let you. As he started to finger you more aggressively, hitting your spot perfectly. That’s when your noises were being heard again, also when your second orgasm came.

While you tried to calm down from all this overstimulation, Dazai already has got to take you. Your eyes flew open as you felt him inside of your cunt, feeling the overstimulation again. He immediately started to pound into you, but not really gentle either.

You could really tell he had a shitty day, Dazai was grunting under his breaths, his grip on your hips hardened to probably leave some marks on it later on. “S–so good for me. . Such a good slut f’me, aren’t you, princess?”, Dazai slurred panting.

“O–osamu, please— ah!. .sensitive!”, you tried to tell him but he didn’t really listen to your whines. “Just b–be quiet. . ,”, left his grunting mouth, “. .Wrap your legs around me, now.”, he ordered you. When your legs wrapped around his waist, he hit deeper inside of you because of the new position.

With this new angle, you were moaning louder than before, which made Dazai even more aggressive with his pounding. “That’s right, let everyone know h–how good I fuck you— s–shit. .”, you felt your next high arriving, your cunt made that clear.

Before you even knew it, it already washed over you and you gushed over his cock. But Dazai didn’t stop, his thrusts got even rougher than before, his tip bullying your spot repeatedly, everything felt so intense at this moment.

Dazai didn’t show any signs of stopping right now, this would be your forth orgasm. At this intense overstimulation, you felt tears threatening to spill out, they eventually did fall after a few thrusts. This just made him chuckle. “Aw, I didn’t e–even cum once but you’re crying already? What a–a greedy whore. .”

“. .‘m s–sorry, ‘Samu. .”, you slurred, not really able to tell whole sentences. “It’s a–alright, princess. .just keep taking me s–so good,”, praised you after, honestly, he found it cute how you were sobbing because of his cock. Soon, Dazai could tell he was growing close, and your fourth orgasm would be approach too.

Then, he finally came, right inside of you. You came around his cock, some flowing out around it. “. .Hah, would you look at that?”, Dazai panted while looking down on the mess you both made on your sheets. Dazai first pulled out before pushing the load back into your hole with his fingers.

“—Hm, this isn’t enough for me. .how about round five, bella?”

This is an 50/50 for me. .

[h0nology]

Prowler!Miles x Reader Headcanon

sorry, i literally had to!! i finally saw the movie and i’m OBSESSED! but i promise i’m writing part two of the pedro fic, but while that’s in the works, enjoy miles!

warnings: toxicity? fluff? slight angst, pet names (mami, baby, babe)

• he’s kinda mean at times, saying some harsh things but you and him both know that he doesn’t really mean it. he’s just hurting.

• that being said he bottles up his feelings. not really telling you all that’s going on with him and how he’s feeling, he really only focuses on you and how you are, brushing it off if you ever asked the question in return.

• he loves physical touch though; it’s how he expressed his love for you. him not being good with words and all.

anytime you two are together, he’s touching you in some type of way. when y’all are out, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you in the direction you need to be going. or when you two are alone, sitting on his rooftop his hand will be resting on your thigh. he also loves the feeling of your hands on him or running through his hair. he pretends like he doesn’t, but you know deep inside fireworks go off every time you touch him.

• so, you’d braid his hair all the time, and he’d pretend like he didn’t care, having this nonchalant attitude the whole time and finding anything to complain about.

“ah! not so rough, mami!” he’d quietly scold you if your accidentally too rough while doing his hair.

but he really did enjoy the way you did his hair, you were actually really gentle with him (for the most part)

• he also loves to spoil you. you didn’t necessarily hate being spoiled by him, but you didn’t want him going out his way for you, when you told him that his exact words were “i’ll spoil you if i want to, mami, alright? you can’t stop me.” so anything you even looked at with the slightest bit of interest was yours.

• flowers, shoes, clothes, whatever. he made it happen.

• anytime you had asked miles where he even got the money for all of this, he’d brush you off.

“not your business to worry about, ma.”

you’d argue that it was, you two being in a relationship and all, you think you deserved to know.

“what? are you dealing drugs or something?!” you yell.

he laughed, throwing on his jacket, “you’re funny.”

“just tell me!”

“i’ll be back. i love you, baby.” he’d kiss your lips and disappear into the night.

• that happened a lot and it kept you up at night, you worry about him as you looked at the picture of you two on your nightstand. but you also knew how strong he was, how tough he was. he could take care of himself.

• so that’s why you just stopped bothering him about it, you figured you trusted him enough.

• oh he hates pictures btw, but made an exception for you.

“can you smile please babe?” you asked him.

“you’re lucky i’m even taking the picture.” he grumbles.

all you had to do was give him a quick peck on the cheek, and the corner of his mouth curves into a slight smile. you’d quickly take the picture, cheering in victory as he slightly laughed next to you.

“see, you have a pretty smile.” you’d showed him the picture, “pretty?” he muttered, letting out a low chuckle.

“yes, pretty. i love it.”

the words sent butterflies to his stomach, everything you said did.

“and i love you.” he’d say, pulling you closer to him.

[all444glo]

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊꩜

warnings: language prolly 💀, very cute and fluffy tbh! jewell is so adorable!! luv her zownnn. slow burn lol part one

summary!: It’s the summer of 2024, and you and your former teammate Jewell have been selected for the olympics. You were ecstatic not only to have the opportunity but to finally play alongside your good friend once again. Yet, everyone can’t help but notice the tension between you two….

There was a knock at your door. You shuffled off your small twin bed, the setup all too reminiscent of your college days. “Who is it?” you called out. The people in the Olympic Village were so kind—almost too kind. Everyone was hyper-fixated on camaraderie, but all you cared about was winning. A bit harsh? Sure. But you didn’t care. You were the only player handpicked to join the team, and it meant everything to you. Things with the Sky were questionable at best. You loved your new teammates—some more than others—but you hated being traded, especially being traded away from her. Nobody had on-court chemistry like you and Jewell.

When the trade talks came through after the championship, it tore the whole team apart. Worst of all, it ripped you away from your best friend. You both kept in touch, of course, but distance and busy schedules had strained the relationship. The late-night store runs, the prank calls to other teammates, the brunch dates? All of it was over. You hated it. Which is exactly why you worked your ass off to make the Olympic team. You knew there was no way A'ja or Diana wouldn’t make the cut, so you banked on Sue’s empty spot being left for you. Luckily, you were right.

You opened the door to find Jewell standing there with a few of the practice players in their warmups. You furrowed a brow, confusion written all over your face. “So, hey, what’s going on?” you asked, stepping outside in your pajamas.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to practice with me,” Jewell said, an almost devious smirk playing on her lips. “I feel like we need to get back into our groove.”

You glanced around, scratching the back of your neck. “You know, I was really looking forward to exploring France. Or maybe resting. But—”

“Please, come on, Y/N!” she begged, her big, beady eyes practically piercing your soul.

You sighed dramatically. “Yo begging ass kills me!” you said, rolling your eyes. “I don’t even know where my clothes are. You wrong for catching me off guard like this.”

Jewell snickered, playfully hitting your arm, obviously tickled by your inconvenience. “What y’all be saying?” she teased. “No shade, but you need to practice.”

You could feel your face flush as an embarrassed smile crept across it. “This cannot be real,” you said, bursting into laughter.

“What?” Jewell asked, feigning innocence. “I’m not trying to be mean, but we’ve got real competition out here. This isn’t like playing against the sk—”

You cut her off with a playful shove, laughing as you opened the door wider. “You ain’t shit, I hope you know that. And for the record, we beat y’all that one time,”

Jewell’s eyes instantly rolled to the back of her head. “You know we were having an off day! Don’t think it’ll happen again. Now hurry your ass up, bro.”

You shook your head, still laughing as you shuffled back into your room to find something to wear.

As you dug through your suitcase, a twinge of nostalgia washed over you. It wasn’t just about practice or the competition; it was about getting back into the rhythm with her. It was about being around her in general. You knew she wasn't happy, and she knew you weren’t either. You two had known each other since college and ended up getting drafted just a few years apart. You instantly clicked—both on and off the court—which led to multiple championships.

You couldn’t deny, though, you did need practice. You were on a streak of off-games, with the wins only thanks to the grace of God. If you flaked in France, you wouldn't hear the end of it. The countless "Get ready to learn Chinese" tweets had already killed your ego enough, who knows what they'd say if you fucked up a gold medal.

You met Jewell at the team's designated practice court, squeezing in a quick one-on-one while the practice players changed. The ball was in her hands, and you were locked in, defending with everything you had. You towered over her, but Jewell was lightning fast. You’d watched her get double, even triple-teamed, and still sink a shot without breaking a sweat.

"C’mon, Ms. Loyd, take the shot," you teased, pressing up against her, hands high, every bump and nudge intentional.

Jewell stepped back, a move you’d seen countless times, and danced around you like you weren’t even there. She took the shot, the ball flying through the air with deadly precision. Without thinking, you leaped, reaching as high as you could, arms straining, desperate to block it. You were partially successful—the ball didn’t make it—but the sharp sting in your finger was a painful reminder that you weren’t quite as fast as she was.

You silently cursed to yourself, shaking your hand in a futile attempt to make the pain go away. "Good block, but you’re still too slow. You almost didn’t block it," Jewell said, her words honest to a fault—which was so like her. "And your movement is kind of sloppy. It's giving 'big' for no reason. You think you can go toe to toe with those tall ass German girls at this rate?"

You sat in silence, her words stinging more than you cared to admit. She wasn’t the type to sugarcoat anything, and she wasn’t lying. Ever since you’d gotten the news that you made the team, a constant feeling of imposter syndrome had weighed on you. You didn’t even know how you made it onto the roster, and it seemed like Jewell was wondering the same thing.

"Whatever..." you muttered, picking up the ball and dribbling it back and forth, trying to hide the shame creeping up your neck. The practice players soon filtered in, starting their drills and plays. You knew you weren’t leaving until Jewell was satisfied, no matter how much you wanted to.

[thoughtswithbbg]

Chapter 3

    You stared at the two fully grown men in front of you, and you couldn’t help your thoughts that wandered, and your face flushed a very bright red. Gojo looked at you with a growing smirk on his face, his arms folded across his chest and made his pecs pop. You could almost feel your mouth water at the sight. Geto, on the other hand was staring at you with a kind smile. He reached out and hugged you close, shocking you and Gojo.

    “Thank You, so much...” His voice cracked a bit, and you felt your heart break slightly. You glanced over Geto’s shoulder to look at Gojo. He had a conflicted frown on his face, and you mouthed, ‘should we tell him or-?’ and Gojo simply nodded his head. You pulled away and kept your hands on Geto’s shoulders. 

    “Please follow me,” You dragged him into your room and reached for the Jujutsu Kaisen manga you had to show him what had happened after his death. You opened the pages, about to show it to him when you stopped. It was gone. Jujutsu Kaisen didn’t exist anymore. But that didn’t make sense, because they were here, with you. You turned and looked at Gojo and Geto with a frown.

    “It’s gone…” Gojo cursed at your words and sighed, he didn’t know what that meant but he assumed it wasn’t good.

    “What’s gone?” Geto was confused, why did you and Satoru look so...Sad? Confused? Angry? He didn’t know but he wanted to. 

    You and Gojo explained a glance before explaining EVERYTHING. What happened after he died, how they were in a different world and other things Geto had to know. He fell silent and almost looked how Gojo did when you first explained everything. You felt bad, really bad. And also, a bit in danger.

    “If it makes you feel any better, Geto,” You started, having their gazes on you. Geto’s glare was making you nervous. “I feel as though, this is your version of the afterlife. Like your paradise after all you went through.” 

    Gojo and Geto thought about your words, and then have you comforting smiles. You sighed in relief, muttering about how you thought you were going to get purple hallowed or have a curse set on you. You paused in thought for a moment. 

    “You guys don’t have any clothes, do you? or phones, or shoes or-“ You started going on a whole rant on what they needed and panicking because you were broke as shit. They watched you pace around the room and didn’t really know what to say. 

    “Okay!” You spoke up after a bit of pacing. “If Jujutsu Kaisen doesn’t exist anymore, that means you all won’t recognized! Which scratches off one problem off our list. But the next problem is, I’m too poor to have two more people with me. Which means I’m going to have to work extra shifts.” You groaned at the thought, you hated working enough as it is but it needed to be done. 

    “Sooooooo,” Gojo spoke up. “What are me and Suguru going to do?” 

    “Well, you all will just have to stay here and entertain yourselves somehow.” You grabbed your phone and went to the other room to call your boss and let him know you’ll be working extra shifts. 

    The two men sat in silence, looking around your room at everything. It was…. cluttered, but you had a system even if they didn’t know it. You came back into the room a bit later, rushing to grab some jeans, a plain white t shirt and of course a pair of underwear and a bra. You looked at them, as if saying get out. Geto pulled his best friend out of your room while you changed. When you were done, you walked into your bathroom to put on a tiny bit of makeup.

    “What’s the rush?” Gojo asked and you jumped, almost messing up your mascara. 

    You glared over at him slightly before sighing. “I need to be at work in 20 minutes if I want extra pay and over time.” You grabbed one of your favorite lip glosses and began to leave the house. “Please don’t kill each other, there’s food in the fridge and a couple ingredients if y’all can even cook, and I think that’s everything? I’m not sure but please don’t burn my house down.” You left shortly after that, and they were both bored out of their minds.

    The days continued liked that for a while, till you finally had enough money saved up to buy the guys good clothes. You ordered the basics off amazon, just so Geto wasn’t walking around in monk clothes and Gojo didn’t look like he was going to a karate dojo. They just had basic jeans and some tee shirts that were just black, grey and white. You burst through the door after one extra-long day of overtime work and had the biggest grin on your face. 

    “We can finally go shopping!!” You had bought the bare necessities weeks ago, but now they can get clothes they actually like, with shoes and everything. You worked enough to have around 1,000 dollars of spending money for you and the guys. They watched you pace around the room, a growing smile on both faces. 

    “When do you guys want to go? This weekend, maybe?” You had already changed into your PJs and plopped down on the couch between them. You all had grown closer as they had been living with you. Gojo slept on the couch while you used almost ever blanket for Geto’s bed in the floor. He insisted he only need one or two, but you wouldn’t listen. You were living every Jujutsu Kaisen females dream, having two of the most desired men in the entire manga and anime living in your house. 

    “This weekend sounds good, it’s kind of weird being in another world, huh Suguru?” Gojo had spread out across you and Geto to rest his head in his best friend's lap. They did this all the time, sometimes you were offered an invitation, but you didn’t want to intervene in…whatever they had. They didn’t tell you and you didn’t ask. 

    Geto nodded at Gojo’s words, and you felt yourself frown. This had to have been difficult for them, maybe they want to go back. Little did you know, that neither of them wanted to go back to a world where everything went to shit.

   “I should probably go to sleep, it’s kind of late and I have to get up in the morning...” You attempted to get up, but Gojo forced himself to basically put his whole-body weight on you to prevent you from moving. “Gojo move your fat ass.” You rolled his eyes at how ridiculous he was acting.

    “You never hang out with us! it’s like living with a stranger, we barely know you! So, sit your beautiful ass down and let’s chat about you sweet cheeks!” Gojo sat up and crisscrossed apple sauced himself beside you. You felt your face flush a bit at his odd use of complements and words but shrugged none the less. You did owe them a bit about yourself, not too much though, you barely know them as it is. 

    You went on an entire rant about your life, your parents, friends, drama, etc. and they ate it up. Geto rarely asked questions to let you talk, he only had one or two at the end of a topic. Gojo on the other hand, had a million questions a minute. For every little thing, he even ended up talking constantly about himself a bit which pissed you and Geto off. 

    This went on for HOURS. It was 2 A.M. before Gojo finally passed out on the couch and Geto’s eyes started to droop. You smiled at them but yawned and told the black-haired male you were heading to bed. You fell asleep the moment your head hit your pillow, not waking until the early hours of the morning after your alarm goes off. 

    It was such a rude awakening, but you wanted today to be fun for them, they deserved it after all. You sat up in your bed and rubbed your eyes sleepily, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. You felt like death. You moved to get out of bed but noticed two figures curled up at the foot of your bed. Gojo had one arm across the width of your bed to connect with Geto’s arm on the other side. It shocked you a bit to see the sleeping in the floor, but you smiled fondly, they may have had a nightmare or something, so you don’t mind. 

    You carefully crawled out of bed to get ready for the day, and to make breakfast. You did a tiny bit of makeup, pulled your (H/L) hair into a high ponytail, did basic human hygiene, and went to start on some bacon and eggs. You began frying the bacon so you could get a big pile for the men, they did tend to eat a lot. You were making the scrambled eggs when two arms circled around your waist making you squeal and whip around with the hot spatula to smack them in the face. Gojo, who was the culprit, fell to the floor groaning and holding his forehead.

    “Oh my gosh! Gojo I’m so sorry but don’t sneak up on me like that you, disgusting rat!” He cackled at your insult and blew you a kiss from his place on the floor. You rolled your eyes and kicked him lightly in the stomach, from which he stood up and dusted off the invisible dirt on him. 

   Geto walked in a couple minutes later, hair a mess and rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. “Is Satoru being a rat again?” You laughed when Gojo made an offended face at his best friend.

   “Yes actually,” You were still giggling as you passed out plates and food. Gojo huffed but ate his scrambled eggs and bacon. You didn’t mention the fact that they both slept at the end of your bed, they didn’t need to know you knew. You whipped out your phone and looked at all the shops the mall offered. 

    “Okay, I’m going to put something other than pj’s on, will you both please do the same? we can go after that!” You left the table, put your plate in the sink and went into your room to throw some clothes on. 

   “Satoru, you get clothes on and I’ll wash the dishes, we need to make things easier on her.” Geto grabbed his and Gojo’s plate to the sink. Gojo got up and followed him, wanting to help as well. “Dish washing is not a two-person task.”

    “I want to help too Suguru, you’re going to hog all her attention! she’ll be all over you and I want some of that.” He protested, picking up a rag to dry the dishes and put them away. 

    “Alright fine.” They both worked on cleaning the dishes, even the ones that were already in the sink. When you came back into the kitchen, Gojo put the last cup away. You flung your arms around them as thanks, and they laughed and hugged you back. 

    “Thank you, guys,” they both rambled that it was the least they could do, considering you have done so much for them. You just laughed and told them to put decent clothes on before you all head to the mall. 

    The poor guys squished into your tiny car, even though it had a front seat, they couldn’t stop arguing about who would sit there. So, you simply banished them both into the back seat and turned some Taylor Swift on to lighten the mood. The song came on and you immediately started singing as you drove, turning it up a bit. 

    “You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset,” You had sung along to the words as you bopped your head to the music. Gojo and Geto had never heard of an artist like this, but Gojo was quick to learn the words and sing along with you, while Geto just tapped his foot to the beat of the song.

        The Mall wasn't terrible far from your house, maybe a 20-minute drive. You pulled into a parking space, almost scaring the two men to death.  "Geez, you seriously can't drive (y/n)..." Gojo snickered at his comment when you frowned at him in the rearview mirror. You rolled your eyes and got out of the car, allowing them to exit as well. 

        "Alrighty! Here we go!" You drug them into several stores, making them try on all sorts of clothes and whatever fit them that they liked you purchased for them. You even drug them to a make-up store, only for you though and only after you got the clothes they needed. You smiled contently as you walked out of the mall at dusk. 

        "You spent forever in there..." Gojo complained as you began on the drive home, Geto fighting a yawn beside him in the car. You fought a yawn as well as you drove along a long road to get home.

[harlowtales]

Big fight between Reader x Jack on his birthday releases tension in their relationship.

⚠️ toxic dynamics 18+ only ‼️

Jack and Urban blew out the candles together on their Pokemon cake. As the candles fizzled out and left trails of smoke Jack realized you were gone. “Where is she?” He wondered concerned “Babe?” Jack called out in the hallway of the bar where the women’s washroom was trying to find you. Rumbling beats filled the dark hallway. He didn’t hear you crying until he got closer.

He knocked and pounded “Baby? You ok?” He said not 100% sure it was you in there sobbing or some other drunk girl. He pressed a diamond studded ear to the door that was reverberating from all the bass to distinguish your voice and confirm it was you. Unfortunately he was familiar with that cry.

“Y…yeah???” You said shakily through your tears

“Baby what’s wrong. You disappeared. We sang happy birthday. Urb’s worried too.” Jack said through the door

You didn’t answer. You just couldn’t deal with it anymore. With HER….with THEM. Why did they always have to be at everything Jack did. Not one time could he just not invite his exes. Always shaking their asses right in front of him. It was too much. They knew it bothered you and Jack never said anything. Just said his “friends” were playing around.

“Jack go away.” You said finally and seething with anger. “Just… leave me alone, that’s all I want now.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Jack said banging on the door. “Is it the girls?”

“Gee how did you guess?” You said sarcastically

Jack sank down to the floor in front of the door. You were right and he knew it. He was torn between old friends and you knowing he had been with them in the past. He regretted telling you, but this was one thing he didn’t want to mess up. No lies, just straight up honesty. He knew you were the one. That being said if it was him in your shoes around guys you had been with that you kept inviting to everything, he’d lose it. “Babe I’ve told you they’re just like that.” He reasoned. He didn’t think he had to explain much as he showed you every day how he felt with hours on the phone when he didn’t really have time, gifts showing up at your door when he was gone, FaceTime no matter what time zone he was in, the wining and dining, making you the face of Phocus to bring you into the business, and not exactly hiding you when he posted on IG lately. He told you he was almost ready to go public. You didn’t know but there was an engagement ask in the works. His team was busy planning the whole thing behind the scenes. But right now tequila had kicked in and you were in no mood.

“They’re just like that?” You said angrily “Some of them have an Only Fans for fuck sakes Jack!”

“Ok but am I on it? Babe please. I don’t want to spend my birthday on the floor in front of this door. Open the door….PLEASE” he begged

“You’re on the floor?” You asked through your tears

“Yeah. You think I’m moving from here as long as you’re in there crying?” You heard him say faintly, muffled by the door and thumping beats.

You blew your nose, wiped your tears and after a few minutes you slowly opened the door. Jack stood up and hugged you tightly. “Oh my baby girl” he said holding you close and kissing the top of your head. “Don’t fucking worry about them.”

“REALLY JACKMAN? Are you seriously looking me in my eyes and saying that?” You were a mess now. Your hair was dishevelled and your mascara was smeared. You pushed him away.

“Who am I fucking with?” He said irritated and raising his voice “Why we gotta do this every time?”

“Because your guest list needs to fucking change up that’s why, cuz you fucking playing around on me I just know it, them bitches is too bold with they booty all up in your face and what the fuck do you do? Laugh. You laugh and y’all have a great time and I see they stupid asses every fucking where, like what are you thinking? You know what? Fuck this shit I’m out. For good. You know how many guys I ignore? Nice guys too. Naw this is some bullshit Jack. I’m going to get some other business because your a fucking liar!” You pounded his chest and headed for the door but he easily blocked you and locked it. You furiously tried to get out.

“Are you done because I have something to say too.” He waited for you to finish going off but you weren’t going anywhere drunk and angry on his watch. He loved you even after all the things you just said and all that he knew he was doing to show you what his intentions were. Now in this moment he was hurt and mad. “We need to talk.” He motioned to a stall.

“Oh ok you want more smoke huh?” You challenged in full gangster mode.

He locked the stall door “Turn around” He ordered.

“Fuck you.” You shot back

“Turn.” He repeated

“I said…fuck y……” Jack put his hand over your mouth and his other hand found its way up your dress and yanked down your underwear. His eyes a wild brilliant blue piercing into yours.

“Jack!” You exclaimed breathlessly as you felt his fingers abruptly enter you.

“I’m too soft all the time so you think you can disrespect me but I am not playing. Do you understand?” He breathed heavily into your ear

“Yes. I do. I swear I do Jac…..Ugghhh” You said in delicious agony. He turned you around. His entry into you was slow and not graceful. Jack was gifted and as he opened you up your legs had to adjust and do extra duty to hold you steady. He picked up speed immediately and had you in a headlock as he proceeded to pound you so hard the whole stall was shaking and creaking. Jack was never this aggressive and you were trying to make sense of what was happening.

The sounds of loud tortured moaning and rapid slapping of your flesh collided in painful pleasure echoing throughout the bathroom. You were going to cum already. The tension mounting in your core with each thrust was like how the tension between the two of you had been building for months. He felt how wet you were getting and the tightening of your grip around him. It felt so good tears welled up in your eyes out of confusing ecstasy. “Jack…Jack please!” You pleaded hanging on to the stall door. You were pinned up against him in the tiny space as he relentlessly drove straight up into you in a rhythm that communicated how dedicated he was to his pain in this moment. Every vein was tensed. He was rock hard and void of sympathy for your screams.

He had never seen you lash out like this. You complained but never had this kind of an outburst. Sometimes he wondered if you cared as much as him but there was no doubt now. He was upset you thought all those things but was highly turned on by your display of raw emotion he had been craving at the same time. You felt his beard digging into your shoulder while he concentrated on making you feel every inch of him. Everything came rushing to the surface like all of your feelings.

He loudly called out your name “Y/N!” and shot a stream of desire into the furthest part of you. He stayed in you for a bit and held onto your ass trying to steady himself in exhausted frustration and satisfaction. He was drained. He wanted to send you a strong message that every ounce of passion he possessed was for you. He was mad at himself for making you question how much you meant to him. Knocking and pounding on the bathroom door jolted both of you out of the alternate universe you had been in for all of under 10mins.

“Hello! I need to fucking pee!” The voice said faintly through the throbbing bass in the club.

Jack pulled out gasping and you pulled up your underwear. “Babe” he said heaving “Let’s not do this ok?” You nodded trying to catch your breath not able to speak. You both walked out of the bathroom fixing your clothes and you gave the girl waiting to get in a smug smirk as you walked by. “Ooops! Sorry” you said in fake sweetness “Didn’t mean to hog the bathroom.” She glared back at you and Jack who flashed her a dimpled grin and flipped her off.

It was quite obvious what you had been up to. Your hair was still a bit of a mess and Jack was tucking his shirt back into his pants and readjusting his glasses. All the girls were looking you up and down in disgust as the girl fired off a text to them about what she had just seen. “Bruh” Urban said to Jack taking him aside “She was pissed huh?”

“Not anymore” Jack said “I let her know she’s the boss of these bitches.” He said tilting his head back and taking a long sip of well deserved water. “And I’m going to be changing up the usual VIP guest list.” He said looking around him making a mental note of who was on the chopping block. He shot you a look across the bar as you bit your lip and shot him a look back. You mingled and chatted happily with his friends and family in a totally different mood. “Happy Birthday to me.” He said to himself smiling.

***Had this sitting around since his birthday not knowing what to do with it***😈💋

Tag List: Please DM to be put on, taken off, or for me to follow you✌🏾Thanks for all follows 🙏🏾

***I write family fics, sweet, drama, smut***

@jacks-daycare @killatravtramp @jackslilsecrett @jackmans-poison @jharlowsangels @a-moment-captured @comehomeimissyou @hoodharlow @hotsforharlow @heavyhitterheaux @itsyagirljaz @iheartharlow @spicypiscesthings