#where was i going with this. i think i had a point.

[yuujispinkhair]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

You show me colors I can't see with anyone else

You are stuck in an unhappy marriage, not brave enough to leave your cheating husband. Until you meet Sukuna.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Word Count: 10k Warnings: 18+, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, but not explicit, cheating (Reader's husband cheats on her, and later on, she cheats on him with Sukuna). Sukuna is a CEO (or can be read as a Yakuza boss, too). Sukuna + Reader are both in their thirties. The fic title is taken from Taylor Swift's "Illicit Affairs", but in this story, the secret affair has a happy ending. This story is super self-indulgent, but I hope some of my fellow Sukuna lovers will enjoy it, too! Minors don't interact. Divider @./lovwoung

You often ask yourself what went wrong. How did you end up trapped in this unhappy marriage? Maybe you were too young, too inexperienced, too naive when you met your husband. Maybe you were too insecure, convinced no one would ever want you, and so you gratefully settled for the first man who showed interest in dating you.

Your relationship was never like those romances you knew from books or movies, but you assumed that was just how things were in reality. Your mom, your aunt, and everyone else told you how lucky you were to have finally found a man willing to be with you. How lucky to have found someone with a good job and from a good family. They were also the ones who pressured the two of you to get married, and ever since then, things have gone downhill.

Your husband hasn't shown you any love or affection in years. The only time he shows interest in you is when he wants to have sex, but even that is without any real intimacy. He hasn't kissed you in years, and if he did at this point, you would probably be disgusted by it. There is no love in this marriage.

The worst thing is you know he is cheating on you. You already suspected it when he suddenly had to stay at work a lot longer than usual and when he began to hide his phone screen from you. And then one night, you woke up and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and that's when you overheard your husband talking on the phone with some other woman calling her angel and baby and telling her how beautiful she was.

Even though you didn't love him anymore, it still made your world tumble down around you.

You want to leave him, but you can't. Everything is too much, too overwhelming. You have always found it very hard to make decisions, and this one is huge. You have no idea where to go or how to get by on your own. All your savings went into buying this apartment, and now what?

And it's not just the financial aspect that worries you. Everyone has always told you that you would never survive on your own. They always kept you small, turning you into someone who is dependent on others. You got told that you are weird, not good enough, and incapable of ever taking control of your life. And at some point over the years, you started to believe that. Your self-confidence is non-existent.

You tell your mom about the cheating, and she tells you to stay with your husband.

"It's just a little fling. At least you are lucky that he doesn't want to divorce you. It would be such a financial disaster, and you know how you are. You don't do well on your own. Just stay with him and find joy in other things. Maybe pick up a new hobby. I could give you Kira's number. She just joined a nice Yoga class!"

You don't go to the Yoga class, but you also don't leave your husband. You try to pretend everything is fine. Try to gaslight yourself into thinking that maybe you are really just a hysterical, insecure, and overjealous idiot who misinterpreted things.

The months pass, and you catch him flirting on the phone several times. An annual business event is scheduled, which you always accompany him to, but he tells you it got canceled this year. Only to find out from the wife of one of his coworkers that the event took place as usual, but you and your husband simply never showed up. You know why. He didn't want you there. He didn't want to risk his little affair and his wife running into each other.

You've given up on love by now. You hate seeing ads for romance novels or rom-coms. You stop listening to music because most songs are lovesongs. For all you know, romantic love is just a made-up thing that people sing about and write about, but it's all just lies.

Or maybe it does exist in real life. But not for you. Maybe you simply aren't the type of woman who deserves to be loved. Maybe your mom is right, and you should just accept it.

So you stay with your husband, but you are dead inside.

Until you meet Sukuna.

He is everything you ever dreamed about in your secret fantasies that you started to develop to comfort yourself. A dreamed life, but now it's right in front of you, close enough to touch. Sukuna is a real gentleman. An attractive mix of a bad boy and a successful, serious businessman. Smart, confident, and sexy, with a boyish playfulness beneath his professional appearance.

Ironically, you meet him the night you try to save your marriage.

You are already sitting at the table for two you booked for a date in one of the best restaurants in the city. You put on makeup and spend an hour picking a dress in which you feel at least half attractive. And now you sit here, sipping your red wine, waiting for your husband to arrive, to hopefully bond with him again over a delicious dinner and a few hours where you can talk and maybe laugh together.

Only that your husband never shows up. You have already finished your first glass of wine and received several pitiful looks from the waitress when your phone buzzes with a message. It's your husband telling you he can't make it. "Something has come up at work. I don't know when I will be able to leave. Just have dinner without me."

You stare at the message for far too long, not even knowing how to respond. Feeling utterly humiliated, utterly hurt, and abandoned. Worthless. You know he is going to see his girlfriend instead tonight. His girlfriend, who is young and sexy, and can give him what he wants.

And suddenly, you can't hold back the tears anymore. You blink hastily, wiping angrily at your cheeks, trying everything not to ruin your makeup or have a breakdown in the middle of the crowded restaurant. But the waitress chooses that exact moment to walk up to you with an overly bright smile, asking,

"Excuse me, Madam. Would it be alright if someone joins you at your table?"

You look at her, caught off guard, really not wanting a stranger at your table in this horrid moment, but you are too polite to say no, and so you smile weakly back at her, pressing out in a tear-thick voice,

"Of course, I don't mind."

You wipe your eyes again, trying to will the tears away, as a tall man in a fancy-looking black suit and slicked-back pink hair comes into view. He is snapping at the waitress, clearly annoyed, saying something about how rude it is to forget his reservation and that this will have consequences since he is a regular customer, etc.

But he sits down across from you, still fuming as the waitress bows deeply several times, apologizing profusely for the mistake, promising that the man's food and drinks will be free tonight.

He lets out an exasperated sigh and orders a glass of red wine, which the waitress immediately scrambles to get for him.

You gulp hard, trying to regain composure, hoping you don't look as forlorn as you feel. You lift your head to nod at the man across from you, trying to muster up a polite smile because, after all, you have been trained from a young age to always be friendly.

You take him in and draw in a surprised breath. He is gorgeous. The most attractive man you have ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered with masculine but beautiful features. Angular jawline, intelligent maroon eyes, and sensual lips that are lifted in a smug smirk as he nods back at you,

"Excuse this inconvenience. I will make sure whoever is responsible will get fired."

And, of course, you splutter and are quick to try doing damage control, not wanting some poor person to lose their job over this.

"Oh no, please, it's no problem at all!"

The pink-haired man laughs softly, a low, husky sound that makes your pulse flutter nervously.

He looks intimidating with his tall height and muscular build, and the tattoos that line his handsome face. But he is distinguished and elegant, wearing a designer suit and an expensive watch. Clearly, he is a regular guest of a restaurant like this.

He looks like a successful CEO (or a Yakuza boss, your mind provides not helpful at all). He's definitely someone in a powerful position, judging by his whole appearance and the dominant and confident aura he exudes. But he also has pastel pink hair, a boyish grin, and a playful attitude that makes him seem not as scary as you first thought.

His wine arrives from a different waitress, and he thanks her politely, telling her,

"Put everything the lovely lady across from me orders on my card."

The waitress is quick to bow deeply with a polite, "Of course, Mr. Itadori," at the same moment, as your eyes widen, and you quickly argue,

"Oh no, please, I can't..."

But he smirks his charming smirk and lifts a large hand dismissively,

"It's the least I can do for ruining your evening in much-wanted solitude."

Much wanted solitude.

His words hit you to the core, making all the sadness well up in you again. If only it were true. If only you were truly a single, independent woman who came here after a successful day at work to enjoy dinner on her own in voluntarily chosen solitude.

But you are none of that. You are an abandoned and unloved wife with a boring job and no money, sitting here at a table for two because your husband ditched you to fuck his pretty little assistant in his office.

And suddenly, the tears are back in your eyes, making it hard to see. You quickly avert your shameful gaze, your hand grabbing your wine glass so tightly it almost breaks.

Your sight is blurry, but you can still see the shocked look on the man's face across from you. His eyes dart away from you but then back again, obviously not used to the company of a crying stranger. He clears his throat before he leans slightly across the table, lowering his voice to a soft murmur,

"Are you alright?"

You feel embarrassment flood you, feeling so mortified at your behavior. You wish the ground would just open up and swallow you! This is so typical of you, ruining this stranger's evening, because you don't have your emotions under control and act like a complete fool. It's something your husband would chide you for or make fun of if he saw it.

"I... I am so sorry! Please just ignore me."

You hate how your voice breaks, and before you can suppress it, a pathetic-sounding sob falls from your lips. You press your hands to your face, sobbing silently into them, trying to hide from the world and from the poor guy who's forced to share this table with you.

But then you feel a tentative touch, a warm hand gently brushing over your arm, and you pull your hands from your face, blinking at your table partner, feeling your lips tremble and your face burning, knowing that you must look so ugly right now with your makeup ruined and tears and snot coating your face.

Another apology is already waiting on your tongue, but he shakes his head, and somehow, it's so authoritative but also gentle that your apology dies on your tongue. Instead, you blink at him, as he cocks his head and watches you thoughtfully, that low voice so smooth and soothing when he says,

"Don't apologize."

You nod, trying to smile gratefully at him, but fail miserably as his kind reaction only causes more tears to fall.

He shoves his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a handkerchief. Not a paper tissue, but an actual handkerchief. He offers it to you, and you reach for it automatically, thanking him. But you freeze the moment your hand wraps around the fabric, realizing it's made out of fine silk.

He raises an eyebrow,

"Please, take it."

"But I... I will just ruin it with my makeup..."

He huffs, a soft smirk lifting his lips,

"I don't care. I'll just buy a new one. Take it. I insist."

"Th.. thank you, sir. That's really sweet of you."

His lips twitch,

"You're welcome. And for you, it's Sukuna, not sir."

You sniffle, pressing his handkerchief against your cheeks as you nod and tell him your name.

His smirk softens to a small smile, and he jerks his tattooed chin toward your empty wine glass.

"Do you want another one of those? Looks like you could use it."

You nod as more tears well up in your eyes, and Sukuna snips his fingers, instantly summoning a waiter to your table as if they are all hovering nearby just waiting for Sukuna to voice a wish.

Five minutes later, you have another red wine to hold on to and sip on, which causes a comforting buzz in your head, and suddenly, it all breaks out of you, and you tell Sukuna everything. You tell him about your failed marriage, about how lonely you feel, how unloved. About your cheating husband. About how pathetic you think you are for not daring to leave him because you have never been on your own before and you have no one who has your back.

You cry and sob and take big gulps of the wine while pouring your heart out to this beautiful stranger sitting across from you. This guy who, despite his intimidating look, is surprisingly gentle with you and who doesn't mind that you stain his silken handkerchief with your mascara and lipstick.

Sukuna actually listens to you. He looks earnestly at you, clenches his jaw when you tell him how your husband treats you, and shakes his head when you say under tears how stupid you think you are.

"No, you aren't. Don't blame yourself. It's him. He is the problem. He is the asshole."

Sukuna is the first one who tells you that you deserve better.

You feel an unexpected relief at finally being able to pour your heart out to someone. And just when you get yourself enough under control again to begin feeling embarrassed at your outburst, Sukuna flashes you a smirk and raises an eyebrow, asking,

"Do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

Which makes you forget the embarrassment and instead stare at him with big eyes and hurriedly splutter,

"Oh my god, no! This is not what I..."

You don't get any further because Sukuna begins to laugh, shaking his head slightly as his eyes sparkle amusedly at you.

"Don't worry. I'm just joking."

You huff a breath of relief, followed by a little laugh. Sukuna's comment managed to pull you out of your little moment of regret, and you feel better again, taking another sip from your wine and even managing to eat a few bites of the meal Sukuna ordered for the two of you, claiming that an empty stomach is never good.

Sukuna is nice to you. It's astounding to you because, with the way he looks with those face tattoos and the slightly dangerous aura surrounding him, you would have never thought a man like him could be so nice. It brings more tears to your eyes, feeling too emotional from all the wine. But you use Sukuna's handkerchief to blot them away.

He leaves with you when you say you have to go home, walks around the table, and pulls out your chair like a real gentleman. He offers you his strong arm when you sway lightly on your heels. He helps you into your coat and accompanies you to the exit.

You stand in front of the restaurant on the busy street, but all you see is Sukuna, who stands so close to you that you can smell his cologne, a sensual, woodsy scent that fits him perfectly, smelling expensive and sexy.

He puts a large hand on your tear-stained cheek, cupping it gently, wiping a few fresh tears away, and you take a step closer to him as if drawn in by a magical force, craving this tender touch, even if it's just a stranger touching your cheek in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Sukuna is so tall and broad, making you feel so safe somehow, and before you can stop yourself, you lean your head against his broad chest, closing your eyes for a moment and sighing longingly. For the first time in so long, you feel as if you can breathe.

You reluctantly take a step back again, tilting your head to smile up at Sukuna, thanking him again for everything he did for you. And he grins at you and leans down, his lips brushing over your ear, while his hand still caresses your cheek,

"You deserve so much better than your asshole of a husband. Don't hesitate to call or text me when you need a break again."

And with that, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. It's such a delicate feeling, so soft and gone again in a split second that you aren't sure if it really happened or if you just imagined it, but it fills you with such warmth that it almost hurts.

Sukuna pulls away with a smirk, and you see a business card dangling from his long fingers. You take it from him with a small, grateful smile.

+++

Several days pass, during which you firmly ignore the business card that's still in your purse.

Waking up the next morning after meeting Sukuna made you feel strange. Guilty somehow. As if you had done something wrong. It's ridiculous, of course. Nothing happened between Sukuna and you. And if someone was supposed to feel guilt, it was your husband. And yet you refused to even look at the business card, feeling like you would be doing something bad if you even so much as entertained the idea of adding Sukuna's number to your contacts.

No, you would never contact Sukuna. You would do as your mom had said. Just accept the circumstances of your marriage and create your own happiness. Maybe you should really find a new hobby. Or maybe you could get a pet? A cat or a dog?

For the next few days, you almost manage to convince yourself that you are fine with your life. You keep yourself busy by researching different cat and dog breeds and starting a new TV show.

But then you walk in on your husband flirting with his affair on the phone again, and you see red. This time, you can't stop yourself from confronting him, from snapping at him and screaming at him under tears to stop it.

It leads to nothing, though. He is so unbothered, so smooth, lying through his teeth, downplaying it, claiming she is just a good friend, making you seem like some nutcase who overreacts at every little thing.

You escape to the bedroom, sitting on the bed, staring off into space as tears stream down your face, feeling so helpless in your rage and misery. What are you supposed to do when your cheating partner refuses to admit he is actually cheating on you?

You wish you had the courage to leave him. Or better, you wish he would take the decision from you and leave you so you won't be the one everyone blames for ending this seemingly perfect marriage! And so you won't have to be the one who makes a decision that will change your whole life.

You yank open your nightstand, searching for some paper tissues. And that's when you see Sukuna's handkerchief again, peeking out from under a package of chocolate cookies.

You brush tenderly over the soft, silken fabric. A small smile lifts your lips as your fingers brush over the initials embroidered on it in one corner in a fancy gold thread. S.I.. Itadori Sukuna.

You let out a long breath, wiping your tears away with one hand while the other holds the handkerchief. And suddenly, the clouds seem to disappear as you remember the warmth you felt when Sukuna cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away. And suddenly you know what you want to do.

You jump up and walk to your dresser, pull it open hurriedly, and yank out the purse you had with you in that restaurant. You open it, impatiently emptying its contents over your bed, until you see the business card with Sukuna's contact information.

On any other day, you would overthink things and take an hour to even make up your mind about what to write, but in the state you are in right now, everything seems so clear.

You grab your phone, add Sukuna's contact, and open a new text message. Your fingers seem to do the work without you consciously having to think about it as they quickly type a message:

"Hey. It's your surprise table partner from last Friday. Thank you again for being so nice to me and for your handkerchief."

You feel triumphant as you place your phone down on your nightstand. And then it buzzes, and your heart jumps to your throat. There's a reply.

"I'm glad you finally texted me. You are very welcome. How are you feeling?"

"I am ok. What about you?"

You cringe at your poor small-talk skills, but Sukuna is surprisingly easy to talk to. He tells you about his day, about business meetings, and what he will have for dinner.

There's a strange feeling spreading through your chest. A kind of longing. You crave the feeling of being near Sukuna again. How safe you felt when leaning your head against his chest for a few seconds. How seen you felt when he listened patiently to you and reassured you.

You want to see him again. Want that feeling again.

"I want to give you back your handkerchief. Where can we meet?"

You know you sound weird as fuck, but it's the only way you dare ask him to meet you again.

"I don't want that handkerchief back, sweetheart. But we should meet up anyway. I quite enjoyed your company. How about you join me again for dinner sometime this week?"

Oh.

Your heart is racing uncontrollably, and your hand shakes as you stare at Sukuna's message.

This is it. This is where things become dangerous. You know the right thing to do would be to say no. It's what a married woman should do. But your husband is in the living room, probably sexting his little affair, so why should you be a good wife?

And so you text Sukuna back, letting him know that dinner sounds great.

+++

The dinner with Sukuna is nice. Really nice. You catch yourself feeling so much lighter, your lips lifted in genuine laughter, your eyes shining with happiness as you spend your evening with Sukuna. He is a very charming conversationalist. Cocky, but in such a playful way that it makes you giggle and feel your face get hot from all the joy it brings you to playfully joke around with him and let him tease you in such a charming and light-hearted way.

Your meeting is innocent, nothing that could be counted as cheating. Just a man and a woman who enjoy good food and wine together and chat about everything and nothing. The occasional small touches don't count, right? Like when Sukuna's large hand brushes over the back of your much smaller hand that's resting on the table.

Or when he reaches across the table to cup your chin and wipe some cherry sauce off the corner of your lips with his thumb. But just because his gentle touch makes your skin tingle and your pulse quicken doesn't mean there is anything going on between Sukuna and you!

Sukuna refuses to let you pay, saying it's a delight for him to have you keep him company. And you laugh bashfully and wave him off but feel so giddy. Sukuna offers you his arm when you walk out of the restaurant, and you take it happily, marveling at how tall he is and how safe you feel walking at his side, biting your lip when you wrap your hand around his upper arm and feel his big biceps flex under your palm.

You say good night on the street in front of the restaurant, and before you know what you are doing, you wrap your arms around Sukuna for a light hug. You intend to pull away again immediately, just a quick, friendly hug, but you get stopped by Sukuna's strong arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly, hugging you back, and not letting you go yet.

He rests his chin on your head, and you have the enticing scent of his cologne in your nose again. You feel so warm and comfortable with Sukuna's strong arms around you, his tall, muscular body pressing against you, warm and reassuring. It makes you let out a shaky breath, overcome with feelings, because you can't remember the last time someone hugged you like this.

Sukuna's low voice is a velvety rumble when he says,

"I am on the National Museum's VIP list. There will be a pre-opening event for a new exhibition this coming week. Heian era. It sounds interesting. Would you like to accompany me?"

You lift your head, looking curiously at Sukuna,

"What must one do to get added to the National Museum's VIP list?"

An amused smirk lifts Sukuna's lips, making him look so unfairly handsome,

"Oh, nothing much, just make one or two generous donations every year."

He shrugs, and you laugh, beaming up at him in amusement as you nod,

"I would love to accompany you."

"Sweet. It's settled, then. I'll text you the day and time."

You want to walk to the subway, but Sukuna stops you with a warm hand on your arm, saying he will drive you home. For a moment, you freeze, not knowing what to say. It feels wrong somehow to let another man drive you to the apartment you share with your husband. And maybe you should be cautious and keep a distance and not let Sukuna know exactly where you live.

But you shake yourself out of it. All of those things have been hammered into your brain all of your life, making you anxious and scared and never truly living your life. You are already meeting with Sukuna for dinner and will accompany him to a museum next week. The world won't end if he knows your address!

You smile at him and nod, telling him it would be very nice if he drove you. And Sukuna smiles back, a pleased look in his maroon eyes. He gently steers you towards the parking space with a large hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you stroll down the street.

You catch yourself having a more upright posture than usual, your head lifted, your lips adorned with a soft smile. You feel like the passerbies are all looking at you and Sukuna. Maybe thinking the two of you are a couple on a date, and the thought makes your stomach tingle.

Sukuna's car is a black Porsche. You don't even know why you are surprised. He grins lazily as he opens the door for you and helps you slip into the passenger seat, handing you your purse when you sit and carefully closing the door behind you before he walks around the front of the fancy sports car and gets into the driver's seat.

"Nice car," you say, and Sukuna turns to look at you with a teasing twinkle in his eyes,

"Well, I'm not a nice guy, so at least my car should be."

"Oh, I think you are very nice."

The two of you hold eye contact for a long moment, both pairs of eyes filled with amusement before you burst out giggling, and Sukuna joins you with his low laugh.

+++

You spend the next evenings at home, having dinner with your husband, who is busy with his phone most of the time, making the cold, heavy feeling in your stomach even worse.

Your only joy is the anticipation you feel in looking forward to Wednesday afternoon when you will meet Sukuna at the museum.

He is already waiting when you arrive, leaning casually against a pillar next to the entrance, tall and handsome with his perfectly styled pink hair and his Tom Ford suit. A dark red one this time, which makes his eyes look like red wine.

Sukuna is a beautiful man.

For a moment, you feel a nervous flutter in your chest, but it vanishes again when Sukuna grins at you and greets you with his warm, low voice and a large hand on your back, pulling you into a half hug.

He doesn't even have to say his name when the two of you approach the young man who greets the guests and ticks off their names on the guest list.

"Ah, Mr Itadori! Have fun at the exhibition. And thank you so much for your generous support."

Your hand slips naturally around Sukuna's arm as you stroll through the exhibition. It feels nice to be here. It makes you realize how long it's been since you last visited a museum. Or did any kind of activity, really. Your husband never had time for you during the last few years.

You can tell that Sukuna is genuinely interested in the exhibition. He already seems to be an expert on the topic, adding interesting facts to the already detailed info sheets next to each exhibition piece.

It's an equal amount of endearing and sexy how nerdy he seems to be about this. Attractive. You like smart men. You like it when a man is passionate about learning everything about a topic that interests him. And Sukuna is like that.

You hang on his lips, soaking up his knowledge, feeling way too hot when you watch the sparkle in his maroon eyes as he goes into a passionate monologue about political intrigues during the timeline of one of the exhibition pieces.

And he seems to like that you also show genuine interest in the exhibition and in what he has to say about it. He blesses you with a soft smile that makes your stomach flutter. You feel exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest, almost bursting with happiness. A long-forgotten feeling emerging again after so many years.

You thank Sukuna profusely for the fun afternoon, and he grins that charming, boyish grin at you and tells you he is grateful that you kept him such lovely company.

This time, there is no doubt about whether he really kisses your cheek or not. His lips linger on your heated skin for a long moment, soft lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before Sukuna smiles at you and cups your other cheek with his hand, his long fingers caressing it slowly.

"Let's meet again for dinner next week, sweetheart."

+++

You pace your living room restlessly.

Your trip to the museum with Sukuna made you realize something. It made you realize what this giddy feeling is that has been filling you ever since you started to meet up with him. That light-hearted, fluttery, happy feeling you get when you see him or even just when you think of him (which is almost every waking second of your day).

You try to shut down those feelings, telling yourself it's dangerous to let someone make you feel so much again. It makes you too vulnerable. It will only lead to more chaos and more hurt.

Why would a man like Sukuna even be interested in anything serious with me? He can probably have anyone. Either he only sees me as a friend, or I am just a little fling to him. I have to stop this before I get in even deeper!

In the coming week, you cancel your dinner with Sukuna by sending him a short text telling him you have a cold. He sends you a get well soon message and asks if you need anything, which you deny, even while you sob silently because Sukuna is so caring, and all you want to do is run into his strong arms and forget about your joyless life.

But you stay strong and put your phone away, forbidding yourself from sending more messages to Sukuna.

Your husband makes a rare attempt to talk to you, and you already know what he wants. After tiptoeing around you for several hours, he asks you for sex. You join him in the dark bedroom, feeling nothing as you slip out of your clothes and climb into bed with him.

You have learned to close your eyes during sex and let your mind wander, imagining all kinds of fictional scenarios to help you feel anything at all. But this time, you don't think of a fictional love interest out of a romance novel or an actor you find attractive. This time, you think of Sukuna.

You feel dirty afterward as you stand under the shower and scrub at your skin. Dirty for thinking of Sukuna while you slept with your husband. But what makes you feel even dirtier is that you still let your cheating husband touch you even though Sukuna is so nice to you. It feels as if you are cheating on both of them.

You cry so much that you feel like you have no tears left.

+++

Even though you haven't met or talked to Sukuna in over a week, he is still constantly on your mind. You are haunted by images of him. That beautiful tattooed face. That sexy low voice and the playful smirk. That tall and muscular body that makes you feel so tiny in comparison and so safe when you are standing in front of him or leaning against him.

You sigh. One would assume that acknowledging that you are developing romantic feelings for Sukuna would make things easier for you. Clearer. But the thing is, even though you know what your heart wants, you are still too scared to end things with your husband. There are too many insecurities. Too many risks and you feel so useless and weak, just like your parents always told you you are.

You feel frozen, unable to make a move. There is this wonderful man who treats you as if you are special and shows you how a man is supposed to make you feel, and yet you lack the courage to get out of your loveless marriage.

You have always been an overthinker, always scared to trust your instincts. Brought up to always be sensible and make decisions with your head and not your heart. So how could you just leave the security of this marriage? Especially when you are trying to convince yourself that Sukuna would never want a relationship anyway.

No, you can't let yourself believe that you could have a future with Sukuna. This is just a stupid dream born out of your naivety, which your parents always warned you about.

And how could you even go about ending things with your husband? Sit him down and tell him it's over? But what then? What do you do when he just refuses to accept it?

Or should you just pack your bag and leave while he is at work, letting him return to an empty apartment and a goodbye letter on the kitchen table? But where would you go? To a hotel? You have no money. To your parents? You would feel so ashamed, and you fear their judgment. To a friend? You don't really have any friends anymore who you are close enough with to ask this of.

You sigh. None of it seems achievable. Not for you. You are too chicken to do any of it.

Your husband informs you that he will be gone for two days for a business trip, and you let out a breath of relief, happy about the freedom you feel when he is away and you have the apartment to yourself.

You open a bottle of wine, listen to your favorite playlist, and dance around the kitchen, almost able to convince yourself that things will be ok and you can just live a life feeling detached from the hurt your marriage causes you.

And then your iPad dies. You groan, quickly walking to the spare room you use as an office to grab your husband's laptop, only to get greeted by his e-mail inbox, where you see a booking confirmation for a romantic couple getaway for the next two days.

You stare at it wide-eyed. And then you sit down in a daze and go through the received and sent e-mails, only discovering more outrageous things. The escort girls your husband booked over the last year, the flowers he ordered for other women, while you never got any flowers from him in all your years married to him. The romantic getaways he booked anytime he claimed to go on business trips.

You can't even cry about it anymore. The sadness is replaced by cold rage. And by a strange feeling of resignation. You know you could show all of this to your mom and finally make her believe what you told her all this time. Finally, presenting her and everyone else with proof of how badly your husband treats you.

But even as you snap pictures of the e-mails, you realize you can't bring yourself to do it. And the infuriating thing about it is that it's not even because it causes you hurt, but because you still want to protect your husband. If you show your mom this, she will confront him and make a huge scene. And you don't want that to happen. Even after everything he did, you still are too much of a good girl to let him face the rage of your mom.

That's why you close the laptop again without doing anything. You make sure to put it back to where you found it.

But a different kind of conviction has settled over you. If your asshole of a husband can go on romantic getaways and sex meetings, you can allow yourself some fun, too, can't you?

It's not even that you plan to have sex when you text Sukuna. You just want to meet him for dinner or another trip to the museum. You just want to talk to him, and laugh with him and soak up the light feeling he gives you.

He calls you instead of texting back. Your heart races when you take the call, and Sukuna's velvety low voice fills your ear,

"I just came home from a big grocery haul. So how about instead of meeting at a restaurant, you come to my apartment, and I cook for you?"

You agree instantly.

+++

Unsurprisingly, Sukuna lives in one of the most expensive neighborhoods of the city. The luxurious apartment complex makes you feel nervous and a bit out of place. But that uneasiness slips from you the moment Sukuna opens his door and greets you with that sexy, teasing smirk and a playful little comment.

It's the first time you see Sukuna dressed casually. And it undeniably does something to you to see him in a pair of gray sweatpants and a rather snug-fitting white t-shirt that clings to his buff pecs and gives you a nice view of his muscular arms and more of his tattoos. You aren't sure what is more mouth-watering, the food that is simmering in one of the pots on Sukuna's stove or his big biceps that flex deliciously with every move.

Sukuna lifts you onto the kitchen counter, easily picking you up and setting you down as if you weigh nothing. A fact that makes you all flustered and sends your pulse racing, making you gratefully grab the wine glass Sukuna is offering you, so you can hide your face behind it and let the alcohol calm your nerves.

No man has ever cooked for you before, and watching Sukuna do it is one of the most attractive things you have ever witnessed. He is so sexy. Passionate and skilled, and still always taking time to playfully flirt with you or ask you to try one of his dishes, feeding you food from a spoon or from his fingers.

There is a special kind of electricity between you tonight. An almost touchable tension that makes your skin tingle anytime Sukuna brushes up against you.

His voice is husky when he tells you what ingredients he uses to marinate the roasted vegetables. And you can't help but let your tongue flick over his fingers when he pushes a slice of roasted zucchini against your lips.

Sukuna groans softly. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you look up at his tattooed face. You are met by a hungry glint in those beautiful maroon eyes that remind you of the wine Sukuna poured for you.

You are caught in Sukuna's intense gaze, unable to look away. Everything else seems to fade away.

And the next thing you know is that Sukuna is kissing you. Or maybe you were the one who pressed her lips against his first. You don't know. All you know is that you are kissing right here in Sukuna's kitchen while you sit on the kitchen counter, and he is standing between your legs. His large hands are cupping your cheeks and tilting your head back, and your hands are twisting in the front of his soft white t-shirt, pulling him closer to you as you sigh needily into his mouth.

Sukuna kisses you like you have never been kissed before. Passionate, fiery. Deep and sensual, making your head spin and your pulse flutter under Sukuna's hands.

You can't get enough of him and wrap your arms and legs around him as if you are scared he will vanish into thin air if you let go of him. You kiss him with a hunger unknown to you until now. Like a starving person being presented with a life-saving meal.

Sukuna's large hands trail down your sides, fingertips grazing over the sides of your breasts, eliciting a needy little whine from you, and further down until they reach your thighs. You are drunk on his kiss, drunk on him, melting under every little touch.

And Sukuna hums in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss even more. His large hands slip under you, cupping your ass, kneading it while he makes you moan around his tongue.

You have always been shy, but there is something about Sukuna and the way he makes you feel that makes you slip a hand under his t-shirt, feeling him up, greedily caressing his flexing abs, feeling dizzy at how good his firm muscles feel under your fingertips.

You both can't seem to stop kissing, both tumbling down further and further into this heated desire. You are faintly aware of Sukuna mumbling against your lips that the sauce needs to simmer for another hour anyway, and then he picks you up and lifts you easily off the kitchen counter while his lips claim yours again.

Sukuna carries you to his bedroom while never breaking the kiss, and you suck on his bottom lip and run your greedy hands through his soft pink hair and down his bulging biceps, wanting him so much that you think you will die if you don't get all of him tonight.

You sleep with Sukuna on his fancy bed, and it's nothing like it was with your husband. It's like you finally learn how sex is supposed to feel with a man who truly wants you.

Sukuna makes you feel wanted and desired, a feeling that is so new to you after all these years caught in a loveless marriage where your husband made you feel undesirable, unattractive, and like you would never be able to find anyone else with how your body looks and how lousy you are in bed.

But with Sukuna, it is completely different. You feel sexy here in his bed with the way he looks at you when he undresses you. And with the way he moans sweet praise in your ear before his lips and hands worship your body.

Sukuna is a real man. Experienced and confident, but so loving and patient with you when you get shy and tell him that you aren't very experienced and that your husband was disappointed in your skills in the bedroom.

At one point, you tense up, thinking Sukuna will get angry like your husband when you are clumsy during sex. But the opposite is the case. Sukuna is calm and gentle, talking to you in that sexy low voice, all soothing and sexy, telling you that it's ok and that you don't have to be scared or embarrassed.

He kisses you until your head spins and then asks you why you got so tense, asks you what you need. And you almost break out in tears, hugging him tightly, hiding your face in his defined pecs, inhaling his scent, and feeling so loved and so safe in his strong arms like never before.

"I just... I have only been with my husband, and he told me I am not good in bed. He always got mad at me when I didn't know how something worked. I am sorry if I am not what you are used to."

And you feel Sukuna's arms tightening around you, feel him tense up. But he isn't angry with you, only with your husband.

"That man is such a fool. Look at me, darling."

You lift your head off his chest and look at his tattooed face when he looks at you all earnestly,

"You are a beautiful woman, sexy and desirable, and I want to fuck you so good you forget your own name. Because that's what you deserve. And you don't have to be experienced or fuck like a pornstar. You are perfect the way you are, and you drive me crazy. And if you don't know how something works and you want to learn it, then I will teach you, and I promise I will be patient and gentle."

You nod wildly, feeling too emotional to speak, and instead press your body against Sukuna's and capture his lips in another needy kiss. You can feel his smile against your lips when he wraps his large hands around your waist and takes control.

Everything is so easy after that. No words are needed. Just hands and lips exploring each other's skin in heated caresses and bodies entangled in feverish passion. You let yourself fall, give yourself fully into Sukuna's loving hands. Let him take care of you like no one has ever done before.

He fucks you so good you cry.

All the years of feeling undesirable and not enough slip off you now that you are in Sukuna's bed under his gorgeous, tall, and heavy body, your nails leaving scratches on his broad back, hot tears of bliss streaming down your cheeks, and his name falling sweetly from your lips over and over again like a prayer.

It's like you are finally alive, like you are a flower that finally blooms after all these years.

+++

That first night in Sukuna's bed changed you profoundly.

You catch yourself smiling all day. There's a new bounce in your steps. You feel so much lighter. Your stomach is filled with butterflies as if you are a teenager again who has her first crush. Your chest feels so warm. You're filled with new hope. Maybe there is more to life and love than you thought, after all.

You feel like, for the first time, someone has really seen you. You weren't aware that sex like this existed in real life. That a man could make you fall apart like that. Sukuna fucked you in a way that was life-changing, making you feel like you gave him not just your body but also your soul.

And as passionate and nasty as the sex with Sukuna was, he made you feel respected the whole time. Adored. That is what makes you lose your mind anytime you think of it. You have been with your husband for so long, and yet even in the beginning, when the feelings were still fresh, he never made you feel adored or loved in bed. You didn't even know it until now, but he only ever made you feel used.

When your husband asks you for sex, you turn him down his time, telling him you aren't in the mood, and you don't even feel guilty for it.

You keep running back into Sukuna's strong arms over and over again. Into his bed, under his heavy body, where you feel loved and wanted. It's like he opened your eyes, and now you can see all those new colors that you only seem to be able to see with him.

+++

Your clandestine meetings continue for weeks. It surprises you to see winter turn into spring, and yet Sukuna is still texting you, inviting you to more dinner dates and to more intimate meetings in his bedroom. You always assumed he would end your little affair before things became too serious.

But somehow, he is still in your life, reserving his Wednesday evenings for you, buying you roses, and taking you to the best restaurants in the city.

One night, you sit up in his bed on the ruffled silk sheets and bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over Sukuna's naked body. His tattooed skin, his buff muscles, his beautiful silhouette. And you blurt out,

"Why do you keep seeing me?"

It's what you have been asking yourself from the start. What does Sukuna see in you? You are mediocre in every way. Average looks, no real talents, and no impressive career. A wife who got neglected by her husband because she wasn't good enough in his eyes. A woman in her thirties, who was replaced by a younger, more attractive version.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is gorgeous, powerful and rich, and his age only makes him more attractive. He could have anyone.

Sukuna hums softly and turns onto his side, lifting his head to watch you with curious maroon eyes.

"What do you mean, darling?"

You avert your gaze, sighing, bringing up your hands in a helpless little gesture,

"I... I mean, you are you, and I am me. And I just don't understand what you see in me."

Now, the noise Sukuna makes sounds a bit like a growl. You feel stupid for saying anything, already about to scramble out of his bed and flee before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. But you don't make it out of bed. Sukuna's strong arms wrap around you and stop you. He pulls you back into his arms and against his solid, broad chest.

"Don't belittle yourself like that. I keep asking to see you because I want to. Because I like spending time with you. You are so sweet. You make me feel so warm when I have always felt so cold."

His words hit you like a truck. You blink rapidly, your eyelashes fluttering against Sukuna's chest.

"R... really?"

He huffs softly, letting out a low chuckle as his large hand pets your hair,

"Yes, really. I used to only have one-night stands or casual flings. Just sex and nothing more. I used to think that was all I needed. But you showed me something different. Hell, I've never spent so much time with a woman before I slept with her for the first time. And I enjoyed every second of it! I like spending time with you to talk and laugh with you and just have this companionship. You make me feel like maybe I am not that cold-hearted asshole I always thought I was."

You gulp hard, tears filling your eyes. But this time, happy ones. You sniffle against Sukuna's naked chest and press a tender kiss to his tattooed skin.

"You are so sweet, Sukuna."

He laughs softly, and you can feel it against your cheek, a low rumble, where your face is resting on his chest,

"You are the first one who told me I am sweet. Are you sure?"

Now, you laugh softly, too. The insecurity you felt a moment ago forgotten,

"Yes, 100% sure. No one has ever treated me as sweet as you."

"It's what you deserve. You are so sweet that I want to be sweet for you, too. And..."

Sukuna's large hands tighten around your hips, and he flips you over. He rolls on top of you, covering you whole with his tall, broad body. His lips find your neck, trailing little kisses over it, his low voice a seductive murmur in your ear,

"You're not just sweet, but also beautiful and sexy, and you make me laugh, and I want to take you places and cook for you and also want to keep you on my cock all night and feel you squeeze around me and hear you cry my name."

Sukuna grinds his hips against you, pushing you into the mattress, taking you with one powerful, deep thrust for the second time tonight. You gasp and cling to his broad shoulders, your legs wrapping around his hips, welcoming him, craving him, needing him.

He takes it slow. Slow, deep thrusts, his forehead resting against yours, his low voice moaning sweet nothings in between deep, sensual kisses.

It's then that you realize that Sukuna is doing what no one else ever did to you. Sukuna is making love to you.

And you cry hot tears, drowning in his love and his body and everything he gives you. Your nails leave scratches on his broad back, your heels dig into his firm ass, as you throw your head back and cry out his name in the sweetest ecstasy.

He holds you afterward, lies behind you, and wraps his tall, strong body around you. He hugs you with his strong arms and nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing kisses onto your skin, not letting go of you, taking care of you, cuddling you. Something you also never had before. A man who is willingly holding you like that for hours after he came in you.

You sigh happily, still in a daze. The occasional tear still runs down your cheek as you snuggle against Sukuna's muscular body, and your hands caress his tattooed forearms tenderly. You never want to leave his arms again. You want to stay right here.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna's low voice murmurs against your skin again,

"I mean it, darling. I like having you in my life. So much that I want you in it all the time."

One of his large hands caresses your belly, so tender, so loving, sending butterflies fluttering in it like crazy. And Sukuna breathes in your ear,

"Be mine."

You draw in a sharp breath and turn around in Sukuna's arms, cupping his face with your hands as you kiss him, long and sweet, and in between kisses, you murmur against his lips,

"I am already yours."

You know it is the truth. Even though you are still married to another man, even though you are still living with your husband, you are Sukuna's woman now. You suspect you have been Sukuna's woman for several months already, long before you allowed yourself to admit it out loud.

+++

Two hours later, you are buttoning up your coat, about to leave Sukuna's apartment and the sweet bliss of his arms and return to your cold, loveless marriage, and your lonely apartment, when Sukuna stops in front of you. He reaches out, wordlessly helping you with the buttons, dominant in such a caring way, and somehow, that small loving gesture makes your lips tremble as you are overcome by emotions.

He is so good to you. Such a giant of a man, so tall and broad and powerful. And yet, he treats you so gently. Large hands buttoning up your coat for you. The hands that also cook Michelin-star-worthy meals for you, or wash your hair in his luxurious bathtub. The hands that make you see stars when they finger you oh so good. The hands that caress your cheek tenderly and brush your tears away with so much care. Hands that give to you over and over again. A hundred little acts of service that this powerful man gives to you.

"Sukuna, I..."

You trail off, not able to put into words what you want to say to him. How much he means to you. How much you want him. How he made you believe in love again. How much you crave to leave your old life behind and start over new with Sukuna even though you are so scared of change.

Before you can say any of it, Sukuna grabs your wrists, takes them firmly but gently into his larger hands, and looks at you intensely.

"Leave that asshole. He doesn't deserve you, princess. If a man can't see what he has in you, then he is trash. Don't be scared. I can take much better care of you than him. I'll fuck you good and make you only cry happy tears. I will appreciate you like you deserve. I will love you like you deserve. I will ensure you always have everything you need. I have money, and I can protect you. Tell me, darling, who would you feel safer with waking through the city in the middle of the night? That joke of a man or me?"

Of course, you know the answer.

"I love you, Sukuna."

"I love you, too."

His strong arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug, and you nuzzle your face into his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. And finally, here in the safety of Sukuna's embrace, you say those words you have been too scared to say until now,

"I will leave him. I want to be with you. Only with you, Kuna."

You can hear the smile in Sukuna's voice when he replies,

"I'll help you, sweetheart. I have one of the best lawyers in the whole country. I'll call him tomorrow to prepare the divorce papers. I'll take care of everything for you."

Sukuna cups the back of your head and leans down to kiss your forehead gently, reassuringly. He looks at you with that boyish grin you fell in love with and adds in a playful and husky voice,

"And once all of this is dealt with, I will make you my wife."

He takes your left hand into his, turning it around, inspecting the wedding ring you are still wearing, scrunching his nose at it,

"And I'll give you a much prettier ring."

+++

You let the door fall softly shut behind you one last time as you walk out of the apartment you had been sharing with your husband for over a decade. A smile lifts your lips. You are glad to close this chapter of your life.

You know that a braver woman would have left her husband sooner, would have moved out, or kicked him out the moment she found out he was cheating on her. Maybe even sooner, when she realized she was unhappy in that marriage. But you aren't brave. You have always been full of self-doubts and fears. Too ashamed to crawl back to your parents and admit that you hadn't been strong enough to endure your marriage. Too scared that you would never recover from the financial loss of the divorce. Too insecure to believe you could ever make it on your own.

But now you have Sukuna. And the fall doesn't seem so high anymore. You know Sukuna will catch you in his strong arms. He won't let you crash to the ground.

In the end, you think it doesn't matter how you got out of that unhappy marriage and into this loving relationship. All that matters is that you got a second chance to learn how love is supposed to be.

And it still takes bravery to leave your husband and walk into Sukuna's arms. To close the door of your marriage and open the one that leads to the man who came into your life as an illicit affair but has become your one and only.

OH SUKUNA, I NEED YOU 😭😭💗💗 He really took one look at Reader having her breakdown in that restaurant and was like, "I will steal that woman from that loser and give her what she deserves." Thank you, Kuna baby ;)

Thank you so much if you read the whole thing! This story became much longer than I thought, but the words wouldn't stop flowing out of me because this story made me so happy. I hope it could give some of you the same feeling.

I often see posts/articles that victim-blame the women who don't have the courage to leave an unhappy marriage, so I wanted to write something where Reader isn't a strong, independent woman but someone who needs a little encouragement and lots of love from a man like Kuna before she dares make the decision to leave her husband. She deserves all the happiness!

I hope you enjoyed the story and maybe fell a little in love with this version of Sukuna, too 💗

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[pedroscurls]

stranded (one-shot)

summary: your car breaks down on the side of the road and a stranger decides to help you out... and you have no choice but to accept his help.

pairing: no outbreak/dark!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), DUBCON - please read at own risk / heed warnings!, stockholm syndrome, unprotected p in v, rough sex, manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, begging, creampie, joel ties you up, spanking, light choking, fingering, age gap (reader is in 30s, joel is in 50s), no use of y/n. word count: 5.1k a/n: and here's yet another story where i'm stepping out of my comfort zone. i've always wanted to write dark!joel, but felt like i couldn't do it justice... but then ali's (@pedgito) hosting a writing challenge (spring fever) and i figured... why not? i chose backwoods horror #1 STRANDED/SIDE OF THE ROAD. please heed the warnings, y'all. this is gonna be very dark and filthy, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's ok!

You had no idea what you were thinking—taking a solo cross country road trip after quitting your job. Maybe you thought that you’d find yourself, find some kind of purpose that was lacking in your life, but instead, you’re stranded on the side of the road. Gas empty, no cell service, and phone already on its last battery. 

This is where you’re going to die—you’re sure of it. It’s how all horror movies start and despite the sun still high in the sky, you’re increasingly getting worried about what could happen when night falls. You scream at the top of your lungs, the sound echoing through the vast empty void. 

God, no one would hear you scream for help if you were in real danger and that thought simply frightens you. Your friends had all but praised you for this trip—this journey to self-discovery and reflection. Your parents, on the other hand, had already been concerned when you said you would be alone on this trip. A woman, traveling the world by herself? Well, that’s just asking for trouble, they said. 

And now you understand their concern. You understand their fear about you traveling all alone because of where you are now—in the middle of fucking nowhere. You should have refilled your gas when you had the chance, should have charged your phone while you were driving. Should have, should have, should have. 

10%—your phone reads. You try to send a text to your parents, to send them your location, but every attempted text just comes back with the message in red text and an exclamation point next to it: NOT DELIVERED! You raise your phone in the sky, hoping that maybe you’ll get one bar of service, but no luck. 

The trip had been successful, up until this point. You were in Texas, that you were sure of. But where in Texas? You had no fucking clue. 

You lean against the side of your car—the sun glaring down at you and you can feel a thin sheet of sweat on the side of your neck. Why did you think this was even a good idea? Traveling cross country without a plan—how fucking naive. 

Your battery drains fast and your phone finally shuts off. You let out a quiet sigh of frustration and open the passenger door of your car to toss your useless phone inside. Just as you’re about to climb in, you hear a faint noise of a car engine. Suddenly, you feel hopeful—maybe you won’t die here after all.

The sudden excitement that you feel overpowers the possibility that what you’re doing is absolutely dangerous. You’re waving your arms in the air, trying to track down the person in the car who’s making their way in your direction. It’s possible that this person whose truck is slowing down as it nears you could very well be a serial killer, but what choice did you have? 

The truck pulls up behind your car and quickly, you run over to your savior. Your hero. 

“Hi. My car’s dead, my phone’s dead, and I just need a lift to the next gas station... Or any place where I can use a phone to give someone a call,” you blurt out, breathing heavily. 

He turns his head slightly in your direction—eyes gazing at your face, then down to your shoulders and the rest of your body that he can see from the driver’s side. You’re leaning against the opened window of the passenger side of the truck. You don’t belong here, he knows that for sure. 

“Next gas station is in the next town over,” he finally answers. 

“Could you give me a lift there? I can pay you. Let me just grab my things and—”

“No need,” he interrupts, voice low. “I’m headin’ in that direction anyway. Get in.”

You grin and Joel’s jaw ticks briefly. God, you’re beautiful and it’s truly been a long time since he’s been with—

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you laugh, climbing into his truck and interrupting his thoughts. 

Joel finally takes in the rest of your frame and can immediately feel his length stirring beneath his dark jeans. His hands grip the steering wheel to ease some pressure, but you’re still talking and you’re laughing and it shoots straight to the center of his pants. It must be his lucky day. 

“If I were to kill you, I don’t think I’d be confessing that, darlin’,” he answers—the corners of his lips lift slightly. Oh, you had no idea what you just got into by climbing into his truck. 

“Right,” you reply. “That’s a good point.” You look at him—taking note of his damp hair that’s slicked away from his face, his broad frame, salt and pepper patchy beard. You realize that he must be in his fifties, but you can’t help but notice how handsome he is. That’s a good sign, you think. He won’t hurt you. He’s going to drop you off in the next town and hopefully, you’ll be able to head back home in the morning. 

“I’m guessing you live around here?” you ask, feeling the truck move back onto the main street. You glance out the window, watching your car become smaller and smaller as Joel drives further away from it. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Guessin’ you ain’t from around here.”

“That obvious?” 

He just nods. Joel needs to focus on the road ahead of him. He has to make it seem like he’s not a threat, like he’s not just about to take you directly to his home. His secluded home. 

You introduce yourself formally, telling him your name and turning your body to face him. “What’s your name?”

“Joel.”

“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” you smile in his direction and Joel glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“Not much to say.”

“Well, how long is the drive to the next town? If you don’t have music, I’m gonna end up talking. I don’t usually like it when it’s too quiet on a drive and—”

“It’s about fifteen minutes,” he interrupts. “Radio is busted.” 

“So talking it is then.”

“No use in talkin’ if we ain’t gonna be seein’ each other after this.” 

“I guess you’re right,” you answer with a sigh. You try to remain quiet, fidgeting with your hands as you stare out the window. Every few seconds or so, you glance over at him and you can’t fully read his expression. He’s so stoic that there’s a part of you that feels like an inconvenience to him. Maybe he should have just kept on driving. 

“How long were you stranded for?” Joel asks. 

“About a couple of hours. Couldn’t get reception to call someone.”

“Yeah, phones don’t work out here.” Joel shrugs. “You eat anythin’ yet?” 

You shake your head. “Skipped breakfast this morning to get on the road.”

“My place is just a couple of minutes away,” Joel says. “I need to grab a few things. Got some food and water for you,” he offers. 

You smile and reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. It’s an innocent gesture, but it makes Joel shift in the driver’s seat. Your touch is so soft, so gentle and he flexes his arm underneath your fingertips. “You’re sweet, Joel. That sounds great. I am starving.” 

Joel bites back a smirk. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

Your hand drops from his arm and there’s a subtle frown that settles on his lips before he pulls off the main road. Within minutes, Joel pulls up to his secluded home. When he shuts off the car, he looks over at you and you’re still smiling. 

“This is a cute place, Joel,” you tell him, climbing out of the truck. 

He follows you and rounds the truck until he’s standing behind you. His fingers itch to reach out to touch you—especially when you raise your arms over your head to stretch, the ends of your shirt lifting just above the waistband of your denim shorts. He wants to touch every inch of you and he lets out a quiet grunt when you accidentally fall back against him. 

“Sorry,” you say, looking over at him from over your shoulder. 

“S’fine,” Joel mumbles and then walks past you to walk towards his front door. He unlocks it and opens it for you, watching you step across the threshold as you look around with curiosity. 

“It’s very dark in here,” you point out, walking further into his home. You see a light switch on the wall and flip it on, illuminating his entire home. Surprisingly, Joel’s large hand encompasses your wrist in a tight grip. You let out a quiet gasp and turn around to look up at him—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. 

“You always like to make yourself comfortable in a stranger’s home?” he asks with a threatening tone. 

“S–sorry,” you whisper, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip but he doesn’t budge. His grip just tightens. “Joel, you’re hurting me.”

“Pretty little thing,” he mumbles, stepping closer to you. “It’s like you were waitin’ f’me out there,” Joel says quietly. 

“Joel—”

“Shh.” Joel brings a finger up to your lips and his eyes drift down, moving his thumb to brush against you. “Shh, baby.” 

“I think I want to leave now,” you answer. “I think I just want to head into town and—”

“Oh darlin’,” he grins. “Ain’t no town for at least another fifty or some miles.” 

“B–But you said—”

“Guilty,” Joel interrupts, turning you so that your back presses against the wall. He cages you in, hand still gripping your wrist as the other comes up to rest gently over your throat. “M’sorry I lied to ya.” 

Your eyes widen in horror, the realization finally hitting you like a freight train. You had spent most of the drive admiring him—his broad frame, his quiet and mysterious nature, his large hands that gripped the steering wheel, his husky southern accent—that you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

This was a bad idea. 

Getting into his truck was a bad fucking idea. 

“I just want to go home,” you whisper. “Please just let me go home and—”

“Shh,” he repeats. Joel steps closer to you, his nose brushing against your own. “Gonna keep you here all to myself. Been a while since I had a little plaything like yourself.” 

You shake your head. “Please, I’ll give you all the money I have back in my car.”

“Don’t want your money. Want you.” 

“Joel—”

“Love the way my name comes out of your mouth, darlin’. Say it again.”

You shake your head, closing your mouth shut. You know you’re in danger, but you’re not sure why you feel a familiar wetness pool between your legs. Your body is responding to him—to this stranger… this handsome fucking stranger who can easily strangle you if he wanted to. 

“Say. It. Again,” he repeats.

“Joel,” you whisper. 

“Good girl,” Joel grins proudly. He drops his hand from your throat and releases his grip around your wrist. He stares into your eyes, searching for any hesitation or any inclination that you’re going to run and leave. He sees your eyes flicker to the front door and he narrows his eyes—his large hand once more coming up to splay against your throat. Joel applies just a bit of pressure and he watches your eyes go wide again. “Wouldn’t think about it, if I were you.”��

You beg with your eyes—apologetic and pleading for him to just let you go. “I’ll be good,” you mumble against his grip. “I promise. I–I’ll be good.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun,” Joel nods, releasing his grip around your throat. “And I bet if I were to reach between your legs, I’d feel just how fuckin’ wet you are f’me, won’t I?”

You shake your head in defiance. “N–No…” 

Joel lets out a chuckle. “Mmm, that so?” He tugs on the waistband of your denim shorts and pulls you to him. He’s so rough and there’s an excitement that courses through your veins. He tugs down your shorts and panties down your legs, looking down at your white lacy thong with a grin. He can see a blotch of wetness and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply as he lets out a contented sigh. “I bet you taste fuckin’ good too,” he whispers. 

You suddenly feel self-conscious and your hands immediately move to try and tug down the end of your shirt to cover your lower half. Joel just shakes his head and grabs your wrists to pin them above your head against the wall. You squirm against his grip and he kicks your legs apart, stepping in front of you to keep them spread open. His free hand comes down and immediately runs the pads of his fingers across the length of your sex—your body betrays you because you let out a quiet whimper as you arch your back against his touch. 

“Wet,” he points out. “You like this, don’t you?” 

You shake your head. 

“Liar,” he chuckles. Joel wastes no time in sliding two of his thick fingers past your folds—your warm, tight, and so fucking wet that a large grin spreads across his lips. 

You squirm against him at the sudden and rough intrusion, eyes gazing up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and more than likely sinister thoughts, but you can’t help but notice his grin and the cute fucking dimple that appears on his cheek. You shouldn’t like this, but your body is yearning for more. Yearning for him. 

Joel’s thick fingers plunge into you repeatedly—his other hand gripping your wrists so tight above your head that you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You shut your eyes tightly, keeping your lips in a thin line and forcing yourself to stay quiet because you know that if you make a sound, it’s only going to fuel him further. 

His eyes stare deeply at you and you’re so wet that Joel’s fingers pump into you with ease. He can see you struggling against his grip and he leans closer, lips near your ear as he whispers huskily. “Lemme hear you, baby.” 

You shake your head in defiance, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. You suck in a breath when his thumb brushes against your clit and a quiet—almost inaudible—moan escapes your lips. 

“Ah, darlin’,” Joel grins, gently nipping at your earlobe. His grip around your wrists loosen just slightly and he’s distracted, yearning to pull more sounds out of you and it gives you just the right moment to push him away. You miss his fingers immediately, a loud squelch echoing the walls when his fingers slip out of you. 

With as much strength as you can muster, you shove him so hard that he stumbles backwards with a grunt. You look around haphazardly, eyes wide, heart beating out of your chest. You’re very well aware that your lower half is bare, but you think maybe you can make a run for it—you just need to grab his keys, run out the door into his truck and drive away. 

You glance over your shoulder and Joel chuckles. He fucking laughs at your poor attempt at running away because he takes three strides in your direction and takes a fistful of your hair. You let out a loud yelp and he’s already quick to bend you over the back of his couch—the edge of it digging into your lower abdomen.

You’re already trying to squirm away, but his grip in your hair tightens and pain rushes through you. You’re about to beg him to stop, to beg him to let you go, but you feel his free hand connect with your backside. The slap reverberates through your entire being and the sound of his hand coming in contact with your ass echoes through his quiet home. 

“You just got here, baby,” he growls—he doesn’t let up, your skin already reddening with each spank. “You can’t leave me yet.”

“I–I–” you mumble and your body reacts automatically, pushing back into him. “Please!” 

“M’gonna have to tie you up, I think,” Joel grins. “Just to make sure you don’t pull that shit again.”

Your ass is beginning to sting and you try to scramble away, but Joel pulls you upright against him. His large hands move to your hips, fingertips digging into you as he uses your body to rub his bulge against you. 

“I think you’re gonna feel real good around me,” he whispers into your hair, hand sliding over your abdomen and down between your legs. “You’re actin’ like you ain’t enjoyin’ this, but you’re so fuckin’ wet f’me.” 

He begins to circle your clit with the pads of his fingers and it causes your back to arch against him, hands darting out to rest on the edge of the couch. A loud moan finally escapes your lips and Joel lets out a low growl at the sound—he wants to hear more of it, craves more of it. 

“From the way you’re squirmin’,” he continues, “Makes me wonder if you’ve been neglected.” 

You shake your head—lying.  

“Oh? Got a boyfriend back home, hm?” 

You shake your head again.

“Poor little thing,” Joel mumbles, head dipping down to the side of your neck as he presses his soft lips against you. It causes a shiver to run through you—his soft lips and his rough beard. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m here now. I’ll take care of ya.”

You’re an absolute mess by the time Joel’s done with you. You’re lying on his mattress, hands bound by rope and attached to the headboard. You’re completely bare for him and he’s brought you to the edge of orgasm too many times to count that you’re practically begging for some release. 

His hands are surprisingly gentle when he settles himself back between your legs and it causes you to flinch. His fingertips brush against your hardened nipples, dark bruises already forming around it from his love bites—he liked to call it. 

“You’re soakin’ my sheets, honey,” he grins. 

“Then let me fucking come!” you retaliate with a huff. Your eyes go wide the minute it leaves your mouth and you’re already trying to scramble away from him, despite being all tied up. 

Joel laughs again. “You’re cute when you’re angry, baby… but let’s not forget who’s in charge here.” 

He finally pulls the ends of his shirt over his head and you lift your own head off the pillow to get a good look at him. There’s no way this fucking man is in his fifties—you shake your head of the thoughts that begin to fill your mind. He has you here held captive and you’re sure that he’s going to kill you once he’s gotten what he needed. 

But you can’t help it. 

Joel’s fucking gorgeous. 

Is this what Stockholm syndrome is? Attracted to your captor? Whatever the fuck it is, you’re squirming impatiently. There’s a dull throb between your legs, an ache, a need for him to give you what you need. 

And he smiles. The same fucking dimple that appeared earlier that day is now in full display because Joel knows he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“Gonna be a good girl f’me? No more fightin’ back?” Joel begins, reaching down to tug his boxers down his strong legs. Once the fabric is gone from his body, your eyes widen once more at the sheer size of him. Girthy. Leaking at the tip. You’re not sure if it’d fit inside of you and Joel notices a flicker of uncertainty flash across your features. “We’ll make it fit, baby. Don’t you worry.”

You whimper quietly in response, feeling him brush his rounded tip against your opening. You try to wiggle your hips down, yearning for more, but he just pulls back and shakes his head. 

“Please,” you plead. You bat your eyes at him, gazing at him under the rim of your eyelashes. It’s a poor attempt at begging, at looking innocent because you look anything but that. 

Joel just lets a small smile line his lips before he pulls away and mounts your upper half. You clear your throat—the size of him this close almost threatening. 

“Don’t be gettin’ shy on me now,” he growls lowly. “Been pleasuring you for a while now, so it’s only fair that you return the favor.” 

“I–I haven’t come yet. Please just let me come and I’ll do anything—”

Joel clicks his tongue and runs the tip of his manhood across your mouth, smirking at the sight of his precome now on your lips. “You ain’t the one in charge here.” He pushes his tip past your lips and lets out a low groan. One hand moves to grip the headboard ahead of him as his other hand keeps a steady grip around the base of his length. “Open wider f’me,” he whispers. 

You have no choice but to obey—parting your lips wider and feeling more of his manhood slide into your mouth. You can feel the corners of your mouth stretch due to his girth. It isn’t long before he pushes further into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat and you gag almost instantly. Tears sting your eyes and he only gives you a few seconds to breathe before he pushes back into you. 

You squeeze your legs together, trying to alleviate some pressure that has been building and building between your legs and the pit of your stomach. You glance up in his direction only to see Joel with his head tilted back, chest and neck exposed, and his eyes completely shut. A quiet groan escapes his lips as he begins to move his hips forward and backward—you swirl your tongue around him, hollow your cheeks and it causes him to moan loudly. 

And fuck, it’s a beautiful sound to come out of him. 

He’s moaning. He’s deep in his own pleasure. 

And it’s all because of you. 

By the time he pulls out of your mouth, Joel’s eyes snap open to look down at you. Lips swollen, tears streaking down the corner of your eyes. You’re so distracted by your desire to come that you don’t realize what could possibly happen once he’s done with you. 

You’re going to die. 

Joel is going to fucking kill you. 

And this cross country road trip you had originally planned was a stupid fucking idea. 

Joel sees a look of fear flash across your features and it only makes him smile, makes his cock jerk at the sight of you. He moves down your body and settles himself between your legs again. 

“Gonna fill you up now,” Joel nods. “And you’re gonna lie there and take it like a good girl.” 

You nod. 

His hand comes up to grip your chin roughly, staring into your eyes. “Say it.” 

“I–I’ll be good. I’ll take it like a good girl and—”

Without warning, Joel pushes fully into you in one stroke. You feel your body jerk upwards at the sudden intrusion and you’re lucky that you’re so wet because while he slides in so easily, you can’t help but feel the painful stretch to give way to his size. Your hands try to wiggle out of the bondage, but the rope just digs further into your skin—it’s like he expertly tied you in a way that the more you struggle, the tighter it gets. 

Joel’s hand moves from your chin to cup your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple as he remains still for a moment. “Feel so good,” he whispers, head dipping lower to brush his nose against yours. He can hear you panting heavily, lips parted slightly. “Like you were made f’me.” 

Then, Joel pulls out to his tip only to slam himself back into you. He repeats this movement multiple times and your moans—the ones that you’ve tried so desperately to hold back—finally escape your lips and mix in with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

The bed rocks against the wall—his thrusts are so rough and you’re sure that your entire body is going to ache for the next few days. 

That is if you’re still alive by then.  

One hand moves to your hip as the other moves to wrap around your neck. He applies a bit of pressure to cut off your oxygen and you gasp, eyes wide as you stare up at him. 

Begging. 

Pleading. 

Not for him to stop… 

…but for more. 

Joel grins at that and continues his thrusts, the sensation of your walls sliding along his length only urging him closer and closer to release. He can feel the tightness in the pit of his stomach begin to unravel and he pulls out, not yet wanting to be done with you. 

When Joel does pull out of you, he releases his grip around your throat and hears you take one deep breath. You’re breathing heavily and he looks between your legs—so fucking wet, so swollen and he taps your clit gently with the tip of his manhood only to see you squirm. 

You’re sensitive, he thinks to himself with a grin. 

“Joel,” you whisper. At this rate, you don’t care if you die. Having him bring you on the edge of an orgasm only to stop is worse, you’re sure of it. 

“Gonna keep you here forever,” Joel says with a dark gaze. “You’re mine now. You understand?” 

You clear your throat and nod slowly—anything to get him to make you come. “Y–Yes, yours.” 

“Doesn’t sound too convincing.” 

“Fuck, Joel! Please,” you beg. “I don’t care what you do to me, please just let me come…” 

Joel chuckles—dark, sinister. He leans down and lightly pecks your lips before he climbs off the bed to look at you from top to bottom. “Like I said, you ain’t the one in charge here.” 

Your eyes stare at him and you notice the way his manhood stands fully erect, glistening with your arousal. He follows your gaze and smirks, reaching down to tug on it. “This what you want?” 

You nod. “Please.” 

“So if I untie you, you gonna be a good girl and obey?” Joel contemplates, still stroking the base of his length. His hand doesn’t feel as good as being inside of you and he almost loses his resolve. 

But he doesn’t. 

Joel’s patient. 

“Y–Yes, please,” you plead once more. 

“Love hearin’ you beg, darlin’,” he grins. Joel slowly reaches over and begins to untie the rope around your wrists but he makes sure that his attention is focused on you. He needs to make sure that you’re not going to run again. 

Once the rope is finally undone, you roll your wrists and touch the bruises around it. You flinch and then look up at him—eyes still pleading. 

“One wrong move and I’m tyin’ you up again. You hear me?” Joel growls, seeing you move to sit up. You nod in agreement and he tugs on your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed with such force that you let you a quiet yelp. 

Joel flips you onto your abdomen and grabs your hips, lifting you up so that you’re now on all fours on his mattress. He comes up behind you and slides into you with warning—again. 

A loud moan escapes your lips and you fall forwards—cheek resting against his mattress, eyes fully shut tight, and your hands gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles turn white. 

“Feel even tighter this way,” Joel points out with a grunt. 

Your toes curl at his rough assault against you. It’s like he’s possessed, so territorial and so animalistic that his thrusts drive you further into the mattress. You wanted this, but you can’t help the pain that shoots through you at his size. Joel’s by far the biggest you’ve ever had and it wasn’t like you had a healthy sex life before this. 

“Fuck!” You scream, now trying to scramble away from him because it’s too much. He’s edged you for too long that you’re sure you can’t even get there—your body is humming and you can feel the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Joel knows. 

He laughs and grips your hips, pulling back onto him with such force that you arch your back. Joel grabs your arms and pins them at your lower back as he pulls your body forward and backward against him. He glances down and sees just how wet you are—the hair at his base completely damp from your arousal. 

“You wanted to come… then fuckin’ come,” Joel groans, pulling you up against his chest. He grunts into your ear as he keeps your arms pinned at your lower back. His other hand reaches around and dips lower to begin circling your clit against the pads of his fingertips. 

You moan so loud that it echoes throughout his home. Your head tilts back against his shoulder and he drags his teeth across the side of your neck—both your bodies now covered in a thin sheet of sweat. 

“J–Joel, I–,” a loud sob escapes your lips when you finally reach your orgasm. Your body shakes against his own and his thrusts don’t let up—still hammering into you from behind and using your slickness and tightened walls to bring himself closer to his own release. 

“Fuck,” he groans against you, releasing your arms and pinning you back onto the mattress. His hips sling against your own—Joel is literally fucking you into the mattress and you’re already so fucking sensitive that you try to move away. 

Fuck him. If he wanted to deny you of your orgasm, you can do the same to him. 

But it’s no use. Joel’s so much stronger and his large hands grip your hips so tightly that you feel pain from it. 

“S’cute,” he says in between thrusts. “Thinkin’ you can run away.” Joel grunts lowly, chasing his own orgasm. “Can promise you one thing, baby…” He slams into you once more and releases his warm seed into you—paints your tight and wet walls with his come. He leans forward, pushing further into you as his tip kisses your cervix. “You ain’t ever leavin’ me.” 

He presses soft kisses along your shoulder before he pulls out, watching with a smirk to see his come trickle out of you and down your legs. 

“You’re stranded, darlin’. Ain’t no one comin’ to save you,” Joel grins. “And I ain’t even done with you yet.”

[calypso-rt]

spring break

-> FratBoy!Rafe x Smart!Reader

SUMMARY: When your sorority best friend ropes you into a chaotic spring break trip to Cabo with a bunch of frat boys, you’re already dreading the party-fueled disaster ahead. Then, you find out Rafe Cameron is coming, and somehow, it only gets worse.

“You’re coming to Cabo.”

You don’t even get a hello. Just a demand, lobbed at you from across the library table where your best friend, Savannah, is aggressively highlighting her Intro to Communications notes like she’s studying for the MCAT.

“No, I’m not.” You don’t even look up from your laptop.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m really not.”

Savannah huffs, snapping her highlighter shut. “Oh my god, would you just live a little? It’s spring break. It’s Cabo. It’s funded.”

That makes you pause. You narrow your eyes. “Funded by who?”

“The boys.”

And just like that, your interest dies a quick, painful death.

Savannah is in a sorority. A very enthusiastic one. Which means most of her life is entangled with frat boys, whose biggest life aspirations seem to be shotgunning beers and perfecting the art of the backward hat. You do not do frat boys.

“Absolutely not,” you say, turning back to your essay. “I’m not spending a week with a bunch of guys who can’t spell ‘Cabo’ sober.”

Savannah pouts. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, you need this. When’s the last time you had fun?”

“I have fun.”

She snorts. “Name one time.”

You open your mouth. Pause. Think.

She smirks. “Exactly.”

You groan. “I can’t just drop everything to go party for a week.”

“Yes, you can! You’re literally a genius, you’re ahead in all your classes. You don’t even need to study. And when’s the last time you touched a man?”

You glare. “Excuse me?”

She grins. “Come on, you need a little chaos in your life. A little tequila. Maybe a hot vacation hookup—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “But you’re still coming.”

You eventually cave. Because Savannah is persistent and a little scary when she wants to be. And, fine, maybe she has a point. Maybe you do need to loosen up.

So you agree. Bags are packed. You’re mentally preparing yourself…

And then you hear his name.

“Wait, Rafe is coming?”

Savannah gives you a look. “Duh. He’s literally paying for, like, the whole trip.”

You blanch in disbelief. “You left that part out.”

“Because I knew you’d freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” you lie. “I just think he’s a menace to society.”

Rafe Cameron. Walking red flag, heir to his father’s obscene wealth, professional douchebag. You’ve known him for a while, mostly because he’s always around. Always smirking, always making some smug comment that makes your eye twitch.

And now you’re supposed to be stuck in Cabo with him for a week?

“I hate you,” you tell Savannah.

…

You saw him immediately.

Which was annoying, because why did Rafe Cameron have the kind of presence that made him impossible to ignore? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

He was leaning against the check-in counter, lazily twirling his passport between his fingers, looking too good for someone about to spend hours crammed into an economy-class seat. (Or maybe not… he definitely upgraded.) His shirt was perfectly unbuttoned at the top, his sunglasses pushed into his hair, his expression smug as ever.

And, of course, he was surrounded by people. Girls, mostly. Savannah’s sorority sisters. They were laughing, flipping their hair, practically competing for his attention.

But the second his eyes landed on you?

They all ceased to exist.

His lips curled into a slow, annoying smirk. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite scholar.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping the strap of your carry-on. “Don’t talk to me.”

His smirk deepened. He ignored literally everyone else, taking a step closer, tilting his head like he was so interested in your reaction. “You wound me, sweetheart. You’re not excited to see me?”

“Not even remotely.”

“Damn.” He pressed a hand to his chest like you’d physically hurt him. “And here I was thinking you’d missed me.”

“I forget you exist the second you leave the room.”

“Sure you do.”

You refused to engage further. Refused. You turned to Savannah, who was watching this interaction like it was free entertainment.

“Tell me again why I’m here?”

“For the memories,” she chirped.

“Memories,” Rafe repeated, like he found that hilarious. “That’s one way to put it.”

You scowled at him. “What’s your way?”

He grinned. “Bad decisions.”

You should’ve just walked away. You really should have. then, the gate announcement came over the speakers, and everything went to hell.

First, check-in was a nightmare.

Half the group, including Rafe, because of course, was randomly selected for additional security screening. You stood there, arms crossed, watching as the TSA agent patted him down, your lips twitching.

He caught your expression and smirked. “Enjoying the show?”

“You probably deserve it.”

“For what?”

You gestured vaguely. “General crimes.”

He grinned, but before he could respond, Savannah grabbed your arm. “We’re going to miss the flight if they don’t hurry the hell up.”

And that’s when you realized.

The flight was boarding. And half your group was still getting frisked like they were on a watchlist.

“Sir, you need to remove your watch.”

The TSA agent was done with Rafe. Everyone was done with Rafe.

He scoffed. “I can’t remove my watch.”

“Sir, it needs to go in the bin.”

“You don’t understand. This isn’t just any watch.”

“Rafe,” you groaned. “For the love of god.”

He ignored you. “It’s a Rolex.”

The agent stared, unamused. “And?”

“And?” Rafe gestured wildly. “I’m not putting it in a plastic tub next to some dude’s crusty Air Forces.”

“Take it off or you don’t get on the plane.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I swear, I will leave you here.”

Rafe sighed dramatically, but finally took it off, muttering about how this was “basically robbery.” You shoved him through security before he could make it worse.

And then, just when you thought things couldn’t possibly get more chaotic, someone (Topper, obviously) got lost on the way to the gate.

By the time you reached the gate, it was full panic mode.

The flight was already boarding. The gate agent looked one second away from giving your seats away. Everyone was running. Savannah was yelling into her phone. Topper was “two minutes away,” which, judging by his sense of time, meant twenty.

You were about to lose it.

And then, Rafe.

Because of course, instead of helping, he was just laughing.

You whirled on him. “Why are you smiling?”

“This is hilarious.”

“This is a disaster.”

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart.” He slung an arm around your shoulders, completely ignoring your look of deepest betrayal. “What’s a vacation without a little chaos?”

And the worst part?

It was only just beginning

…

You had been prepared for the worst.

You had been prepared for middle seats, crying babies, and a solid four hours of discomfort because of course this group of people wouldn’t have planned anything properly.

What you had not been prepared for was this.

You blinked at your boarding pass. Then at Savannah. Then back at the little piece of paper in your hands.

“Sav,” you said slowly. “Why does my ticket say first class?”

Savannah winced. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Oh, yeah?” you repeated.

“Yeah. Rafe kinda… paid for the tickets.”

Your eye twitched. “And?”

“And he got himself first class, obviously.” She bit her lip. “And… you.”

You stared at her. Then at Rafe, who was standing a few feet away, looking very pleased with himself.

You stormed over. “What the hell, Cameron?”

He turned, all slow amusement, taking in your expression like he was thriving off it. “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. Why am I in first class?”

His grin widened. “Because I put you there.”

“No. No, you don’t just—” You gestured wildly. “Why?”

He tilted his head. “Would you rather be in economy?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Because I can switch your ticket,” he mused, already reaching for it. “You can sit next to Kelce. I think he was planning on getting absolutely obliterated before takeoff.”

You snatched it back before he could. Mistake. Because now he��knew you weren’t going to give it up.

And he grinned.

“Uh huh,” he said. “That’s what I thought.”

You exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

He just slung an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the gate. “C’mon, sweetheart. First class awaits.”

…

You had barely sat down before you realized your next mistake.

You should have fought harder. You should have taken your chances in economy. Because this?

This was just another opportunity for Rafe to be Rafe.

The second you settled into the ridiculously comfortable seat, he turned to you, stretching out like he was made for luxury.

“Y’know,” he said, watching you buckle your seatbelt, “I could get used to this.”

“You already are used to this,” you muttered.

He ignored you, eyes glinting with amusement. “Bet you’re glad I put you up here now, huh?”

You refused to give him the satisfaction. “Not really.”

“Liar.”

You scowled. “I could be back there with my friends.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, because being crammed in the middle seat between Topper and some random dude is so much better.”

You pursed your lips, crossing your arms.

He grinned, fully stretching out. “I’m a giver, sweetheart. I saw an opportunity to make your life easier, and I took it.”

“You just wanted to sit next to me.”

He didn’t even deny it. Just smirked, tipping his head against the seat.

“What can I say?” His voice was low, amused. “I like good company.”

You exhaled, staring straight ahead. This was going to be a long flight.

The flight attendant appeared with champagne.

Rafe plucked both glasses off the tray before you could even reach for one.

You turned to him. “Are you serious?”

He handed one over smoothly, smirking. “Just making sure you don’t back out on me now.”

You rolled your eyes, but took a sip anyway.

And that was your next mistake.

Because the way Rafe Cameron watched you over the rim of his glass, smirk lazy, eyes flicking down…

Yeah.

This was definitely going to be a long flight

…

It was absolute chaos.

The club was packed, pulsing with music so loud you could feel it in your chest. Neon lights flashed in dizzying colors, glinting off sweating bodies, plastic cups, and way too many shirtless frat boys.

You had barely made it through the door before Savannah had pulled you to the bar, laughing about “starting strong” while ordering shots like she was on a personal mission to get obliterated.

You, on the other hand?

You had one goal tonight.

Avoid Rafe Cameron at all costs.

He had been smug all day, from the airport to the hotel, from first class to baggage claim. You could feel his eyes on you always, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

You were not letting him ruin your first night in Cabo.

Which was why you had been strategically moving through the club, bouncing between different groups, making yourself impossible to track.

At least, you thought you had.

You had just reached the dance floor, laughing as Savannah pulled you into a mess of swaying bodies when someone leaned down, breath warm against your ear.

“Running from me, sweetheart?”

Your stomach dropped.

You turned sharply, only to be met with him.

Rafe Cameron, all effortless amusement, watching you like you were his favorite thing in the entire club. His blue button-down was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up.m showing off his toned forearms.

Your pulse jumped…annoyance. Definitely annoyance.

“What are you doing?” you demanded over the music.

He lifted a brow. “Drinking. Dancing. Watching you try to escape me.”

“I am not—”

His grin widened.

You huffed. “There are literally hundreds of girls here, Cameron. Go bother one of them.”

“Hmm.” He took a slow sip from his drink, eyes never leaving you. “Nah. I like this better.”

You scowled. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

You turned sharply, refusing to give him the satisfaction, and disappeared back into the crowd.

You had just finally managed to have a conversation without somehow running into Rafe again when things took a turn.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, you found yourself cornered at the bar.

The guy wasn’t terrible.

He just wasn’t… good.

Too close. Too persistent. The kind of guy who kept touching your arm even though you hadn’t touched him once.

“You should let me buy you another drink,” he said, voice slurring slightly.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m good, thanks.”

“C’mon.” His grin didn’t reach his eyes. “One more.”

You shifted, already uncomfortable. “I should get back to my friends—”

And then, before you could react, a familiar hand landed on your waist.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” a voice drawled.

You froze.

Rafe.

Again.

The guy blinked, looking up. “Yo, man, I was just talking to her—”

“Yeah?” Rafe’s grip tightened. His voice was still light, still calm, but you felt the shift instantly. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

The guy glanced between the two of you, processing.

Then scoffed. “Whatever, dude.”

And left.

You exhaled, only now realizing just how tense you had been.

Rafe didn’t move.

You turned, looking up at him, expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to do that.”

His jaw clenched slightly. “Yeah, I did.”

Something about the seriousness in his voice made your stomach flip.

But before you could say anything, before you could think too hard about what was happening, he smirked.

“Still mad I followed you around all night?”

You shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes.

And, stupidly, ridiculously, unreasonably, you felt a little safer with him there

…

You should have known better.

But the second Topper and JJ started running their mouths, there was no way in hell you were backing down.

“I don’t think she can do it,” Topper said, arms crossed, grinning.

JJ snorted. “Of course not. She’s smart, man. Smart girls don’t drink like us. It’s, like, scientifically proven.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just made that up.”

“Maybe,” JJ shrugged. “Point still stands.”

And that was it.

That was all it took for your highly competitive self.

Now, you were sitting at a table in the middle of the club, with way too many empty shot glasses in front of you, staring down the final round of what had become a full-fledged, all-out, death match of a drinking game.

JJ and Topper had both tapped out.

The only ones left?

You.

And some guy named Ryan who had apparently been in a frat for seven years.

The crowd around you had gotten bigger. People were chanting your name. Someone had started recording.

Ryan wobbled in his seat, swaying. “You good?” he slurred.

You grinned, drunk and victorious. “Never better.”

Then you picked up your final shot, downed it without flinching, and slammed the glass onto the table.

The room erupted.

JJ was yelling. Topper was yelling. People were high-fiving you like you just won the Super Bowl.

Ryan?

Ryan collapsed.

(Okay, he didn’t actually collapse, but he definitely groaned and put his head down, which meant victory.)

You turned to JJ and smirked. “What was that about smart girls not being able to drink?”

JJ gaped. “Dude.”

Topper shook his head. “That was insane.”

You leaned back in your chair, fully prepared to bask in your victory…

Until someone appeared behind you, large hands bracing on the back of your chair.

A very familiar someone.

“You’re an idiot,” Rafe drawled, amusement laced through his voice.

You looked up, dazed but cocky. “I won.”

His lips quirked, but his eyes flickered over you, assessing. “You’re also wasted.”

“Incorrect,” you announced. “I am functionally drunk.”

He snorted. “That a scientific term?”

“Obviously.”

Rafe sighed, shaking his head. “C’mon, champ,” he muttered, gripping your elbow. “Let’s go.”

You frowned. “I’m not ready to go.”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice just low enough that no one else could hear.

“You just blinked at me one eye at a time, sweetheart. Yeah, you’re done.”

You scowled, but the warmth of his hand against your arm was steady, and your body was definitely swaying a little, and—

Okay. Maybe he had a point.

Maybe

…

You woke up in hell.

Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

Your head was pounding. Your mouth was dry. Your stomach was actively staging a rebellion.

And, worst of all, the sun.

Why was it so bright?

You groaned, turning over to hide your face in your pillow.

Except… that wasn’t a pillow.

That was an arm.

A very strong, very male arm.

Your eyes flew open.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

In your bed.

What. The. Hell.

Panic surged through you. Did you—? Did he—?

No. No way. You would remember that. Right?

You squinted.

Rafe was lying on his stomach, one arm flung over your waist like you were a teddy bear. His face was turned toward you, half-buried in the pillow, hair somehow still perfect despite the fact that he drank twice as much as you last night.

You shoved at his shoulder. “Rafe.”

Nothing.

You shoved harder. “Rafe.”

A deep groan rumbled from his throat. He stretched nonchalantly, blinking at you with zero urgency.

“Morning, sunshine,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You scowled. “Why are you in my room?”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Dunno. I was in bed, and then Topper started snoring like a freight train, so I came here.”

You blinked. “So your solution was to sleep with me?”

Rafe grinned, voice smug and slow. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You groaned. “You’re unbelievable.”

But before you could properly kick him out, the door burst open, and Savannah strode in, looking way too alive for someone who drank twice their body weight last night.

She barely glanced at Rafe. “Oh, good, you’re up,” she said. “Beach in twenty. Get dressed.”

You groaned. “Sav, I’m dying.”

“No, you’re hungover. Big difference.”

You flopped back against the pillow. “Same thing.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “I don’t care. Beach. Twenty.” Then she left.

Rafe sighed. “Guess you gotta get up, champ.”

“I hate everything,” you grumbled, burrowing deeper into the sheets.

He chuckled. “That’s new.”

…

You weren’t dramatic.

(Okay, maybe sometimes. But only when warranted.)

And this?

This was warranted.

The beach was too bright. Too loud. Too everything.

You plopped down onto the sand, pulling your knees to your chest, squinting at the ocean like it personally offended you.

Rafe, of course, looked completely fine.

Perfectly tan. Perfectly dry. Perfectly infuriating.

He dropped down next to you, grinning. “You look awful.”

You glared. “I hope a seagull steals your wallet.”

He snorted. “You need sunglasses.”

“No, I need death.”

Rafe sighed, then, before you could protest, reached up and pulled his ridiculously expensive designer sunglasses off his face.

“Here.”

You blinked. “No way. Those cost, like, more than my tuition.”

“Just put them on, princess.”

You hesitated. He rolled his eyes, then gently (annoyingly) slid them onto your face himself.

The world dimmed. Your head stopped throbbing.

You exhaled. “Okay. Fine. This helps.”

Rafe smirked. “Told you.”

Then, without warning, he grabbed your wrist and yanked you to your feet.

“What—Rafe!”

He didn’t answer. Just dragged you toward the water, walking backward so he could still look at you.

“C’mon, you need to wake up.”

“No, I need—Rafe, I swear to God—”

But it was too late.

The second you were ankle-deep in the waves, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

You screamed. Actually screamed. “Cameron, don’t you dare—”

Then he dropped you.

Right into the waves.

You resurfaced, sputtering. “You’re dead.”

Rafe just laughed. “You look awake now.”

“Oh, you’re so dead.”

Then, before he could react, you launched yourself at him, dragging him down into the water with you

…

The trip was almost over.

You had spent days avoiding Rafe, only for him to show up everywhere you went. He was annoying. Smug. Overbearing.

And yet…

He was also the one who kept an eye on you when you were wasted. The one who shoved his sunglasses on your face when the sun was too much. The one who carried you out of the water after you refused to walk because “the ocean was punishing you for existing.”

And now?

Now you were standing at the hotel entrance, waiting for your ride to the airport, his sunglasses still on your face.

Rafe was next to you, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you with that too-easy smirk.

“Guess this is it,” you muttered.

“Tragic,” he drawled. “Bet you’ll miss me.”

You snorted. “Yeah. Like a headache.”

He chuckled. “Harsh, sunshine.”

You opened your mouth for another quip, but then, before you could, he reached over and tilted the sunglasses down your nose, just enough for your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones.

You swallowed.

“You should keep ‘em,” he said, way too casual.

Your breath caught. “What?”

He shrugged. “The sunglasses. Keep ‘em.”

You blinked. “Rafe. These cost, like—”

“Don’t care.” He smirked. “Looks better on you anyway.”

And before you could process that, he reached up and flicked the frame, right between your brows.

“Try not to miss me too much, champ.”

Then he turned, sauntering toward the car like he didn’t just short-circuit your entire brain.

You should’ve taken them off. Should’ve shoved them back at him.

But instead, you just stood there.

Wearing his stupid, expensive sunglasses.

And maybe smiling a little, too.

A/N: finally got my chance to write frat boy Rafe and boy was it fun 😼

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely. I just had the scariest night last night and it ended with me in the ER for almost 7 hours. Basically I let a UTI go on too long and it traveled to my kidneys. But I was in the bathroom about to shower and I got super sick and dizzy and lightheaded, my hands and feet were tingling to the point of pain, I was DRENCHED in sweat. It was so so scary. I ended up passing out on the toilet (so embarrassing). I had to get my mom to come in and she took me to the ER and it was very rough there too because I was so dehydrated they couldn’t get a vein to give me fluids. So 6 times they tried, digging in my arm and all that before they finally got one. Later it ended up bursting which hurt a fuck ton. But all in all I feel like absolute shit.

If you can, could you write an EMT!marauders fic where something like that happens? Just the scary stuff in the beginning or whatever tickles your fancy. If not, no worries. I will just be reading and rereading all my faves of yours for the next few days while I try to get better 🥲

That sounds so awful, I'm sorry that happened to you!! Hope you're feeling much better by now lovely <3

cw: nonsexual nudity, dizziness, nausea, one sexual joke at the end

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 965 words

A knock on the bathroom door rouses you. Steam heavies the air, the porcelain of the bathtub slippery underneath your backside. You feel sick. 

“Hey.” It’s James’ voice, light as though he’s not really concerned. “Alright in there?” 

You look down blearily. A bottle of shampoo rests against your hip. You must have knocked it from the lip of the tub when you passed out, and James must have heard the sound. When did you pass out? For how long?

“James?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I need…can you come in here?” 

You hear the door open. Half the steam seems sucked from the room, cool air coming in. “Everything okay?” James asks. 

He tries to open the shower curtain, but you’re lying half on top of it and it doesn’t make it far. You lift up on one side to free it. Your entire body trembles with the effort. 

“Hey.” James definitely sounds concerned now, kneeling at your side. He puts a hand under your neck. “What happened? Did you fall?” 

“I don’t feel well.” 

“I can see that, sweetheart.” He shouts for the other boys. “Does anything hurt? Did you fall over?” 

“No,” you say. Footsteps sound outside, nearing you. “No, I sat down. But I think I passed out.” 

James frowns, taking your wrist to get your pulse. “What do you mean when you say you aren’t feeling well?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer before Sirius is pulling the curtain open further. “Baby, what the fuck?” He crouches beside James. It’s now that you realize how painfully naked you are, lying limply on the floor of the tub with hot water from the showerhead beating down on your lower half. “Did you slip?” 

“She passed out,” James answers for you, brows set in concentration as he feels your pulse. “But she sat down first.” 

“Oh, good girl.” 

Remus shuts off the water. You feel its absence immediately, your body at once lighter and colder. 

“Can I have a towel?” you ask. 

Sirius blinks as though he’s only just realizing your nakedness as well. He stands. “Right, I’ve got it.” 

“Why do you think you passed out?” Remus asks you. 

“I don’t know.” You want to give him a better answer, but it’s all you have. “I just got really lightheaded. I still feel sick.” 

“Sick like you’re going to throw up?” James presses. He lets go of your wrist, giving Remus a look you can’t interpret. 

“Yeah.” 

Sirius tsks, returning with a stack of towels and a fluffy robe. “Okay, well don’t worry too much about that. If you throw up you throw up, we just want to know what’s made you sick in the first place.” 

Between all three of them, they haul you out of the tub. The option of you trying to climb out on your own doesn’t seem to cross anyone’s mind. You land in Sirius’ lap, where you’re hastily wrapped in one towel and your hair in another, James drying your arms and legs with a third. 

“What else are you feeling?” Remus asks you. When you hesitate, “Anything at all, it could help us to know.” 

You try to take stock of yourself, shivering a bit as you do. 

“Cold?” Sirius deduces.

You hum. “And my stomach hurts.” 

He frowns. His hand covers your stomach over the towel protectively. “Yeah? Where does it hurt?” 

“Sort of…” You shift a bit, trying to show him. “On the side.” 

Sirius finds the spot like he knows just where you mean. “Around here?” 

“Yeah.” Panic makes your voice tight. “Don’t touch it, please.” 

“Okay. I won’t, sweetheart.” He moves hand away from your side, kissing your temple. “Have you noticed yourself feeling like you need to pee more often lately?” 

You give him a funny look. “I have a UTI, but this doesn’t feel like the same thing.” 

Remus groans. “Dove, really? You knew?” 

“I knew I had a UTI,” you say, confused. Wary, without really knowing why. “It’s not…this feels different.” 

“Why wouldn’t you treat it?” 

“I was going to.” 

“But when you wait like this and don’t tell us, you—” 

“Alright, alright,” James says in a peacemaking tone. He rubs the towel down your calf. “I think she’s got it, love. She’s clearly not enjoying this.” 

Remus closes his eyes, sighing. When he looks at you again, it’s with a softer gaze. “If you don’t treat a UTI,” he says patiently, “it can cause a kidney infection. I think that’s what you’re dealing with now, love.” 

“Oh.” Your voice smalls. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, that’s okay.” Sirius kisses your face again, his hold tightening when another shiver passes through you. “Why’re you apologizing to us, huh? You’re the one dealing with it. Passing out in showers and the like.” 

“I know you didn’t want this,” Remus promises you, his expression gentler now. James begins encouraging your arm into your robe. “We’ll get you to A&E, and they’ll give you antibiotics to take care of this, alright?” 

“Okay,” you say meekly. 

Slowly, they get you dried up, clothed, and upright. Sirius teases you about the dangers of not peeing after sex. Remus makes worried faces whenever your expression changes and offers to bring a bag along on the drive in case you’re sick. When you try to walk out of the bathroom and wobble, James is quick with an arm around your back. 

“C’mere, lovie.” He lifts you up into his arms. Clearly he’s trying to be gentle, but you moan anyway, pressing your forehead to his shoulder against a bout of dizziness. 

“Oh, I know,” Sirius coos. “You’re alright, baby. We’ll get you feeling better soon.” 

“I’m never letting any of you put it in me again,” you joke weakly. 

To your surprise, it’s Remus who laughs the loudest.

[river-selkie]

I was raised by a bear therian

Well, my dad never said himself that he's a bear therian, but even without the word "therian" being used, his experience as one was undeniable and incredibly clear to me. He spent much of my childhood talking about his dreams of Alaska, how the land there felt like home to him more than anywhere else on Earth. So much so that when the military asked him if he was willing to move North into Alaska, he immediately jumped at the opportunity and spent several years of his life living in Fairbanks back when the weather was still frigid and sometimes volatile. He camped in the wilderness regularly and would tell me stories of caribou surrounding his tent in the mornings, large grizzlies wandering through the rivers, and scraggly wolves with summer pelts trotting across the land. His job handling search and recovery cases at the time encouraged this lifestyle, especially in winter when people would go missing on the roads or crash their bush planes in the woods and he had to find the deceased and bring them back to civilization. Funny enough, he confessed to having a search and recovery team come and look for him at one point after he got carried away and stayed out in the forest for a little too long, deciding to ride the river near him a few miles away just as a "fun idea" and scared my mother into thinking he died out there.

I wasn't alive yet when my dad lived in Alaska though. I had my dad shortly after he had left, and I saw how much he missed it even at a young age. I honestly visited the state so often with him that you'd assume I had family there, but to him, maybe the Northern animals were family. I complained about it back then since I'd be wearing puffy coats and winter accessories in the middle of summer when everyone else was going to Hawaii or Mexico, but I saw how happy he was whenever he'd have a wild caught salmon for dinner or get to walk close to a glacier. When he'd see icebergs in the water from boat tours he'd be sitting entirely outside on the deck during or, most importantly, the day he finally got a chance to visit Admiralty Island (better known as "Fortress of the Bear"). It had always been his dream to go and as he sat there at ease in the tall grass fields watching the giant brown bears graze the fields a mile away. He had a look on his face as if he was meant to be there forever, that he was never supposed to leave. It was hard to not gain a fondness for the place with how much he loved it, and my dad would even tell my sister and I that the remote wilderness of Alaska is where he wants his ashes to one day be placed. Inevitably, I'll be going back again one day to the "final frontier" for him to finally be able to stay there forever like he wanted.

When he wasn't in Alaska, he was at home with me in Colorado taking me on adventures in the Rocky mountains. He was an avid fish lover, always packing salmon, halibut, or a tuna sandwich. I don't think he ate much else when I was a kid, and before my fish allergy developed, that was pretty much my diet too. I think he honestly was disappointed when I wasn't able to eat fish anymore, lamenting on the fact that I never got to have another Alaskan salmon or try a smoked fish. Every time his back would get itchy, he'd scratch it by using the corner between the doorway and the wall, very reminiscent of a bear using a tree to get some unreachable spot which I laughed about to which he'd shrug and say "it's an instinct I guess". Dessert always had to have honey in it, but if honey wasn't available, it had to be something with pumpkin or berries. Pumpkin pie, berry pie, and pumpkin ice cream were his favorites and his birthday dinners usually involved one of the three instead of cake. He often watched bear documentaries with me too, namely one I remember about someone who was the "Grizzly Man" who lived mostly in the wild and met his end to the very bears he spent his life around and I also remember him enjoying Never Cry Wolf, a 1983 film set in Alaska's remote North as well. It inspired him to apply for the ticket lottery every year for over a decade to try and win a trip to Katmai to see the bears during the salmon run, which he inconveniently won when he was literally already in Alaska and about to head back home. Needless to say, his irritated groans and pouts weren't forgotten on the plane back to Colorado.

My mom was mostly absent from my life in the sense that she played no healthy or genuine part in raising me despite being under the same roof due to her relentless addictions, so I do feel as if my childhood was mostly defined by being my dad's "bear cub". He loved animals and taught me to respect them and nature tremendously, and his "abnormal" behaviors became something I now recognize as something I resonate with as a grown otter therian. I sometimes wonder if he raised me into otterhood and if I would still be a therian without his influence, or if my otterhood is something of a "family trait" given that my older sister strikes me as a bird therian in many ways too, but I find it amusing to consider that there are so many animalistic individuals in my family who could fall under the alterhuman umbrella, and yet have never uttered the word "therian" in their lives. I'm curious how many other people in the world are just like me and simply never wanted to label it or explore it deeper, or worse, how many people have had it shunned into the depths of themselves to be forgotten about? I for one am grateful that I can call myself nonhuman and live a life understanding why I am the way that I am, even if I'm unsure of the source.

[apple-onigiri]

a distillation of adolescent rage within bonnie

as promised, here's a bit of an analysis of bonnie, specifically of how much their character is defined and fueled by anger, where that anger is coming from, and how much exactly of it is genuine and how much is there just to feel a bit more safe and a bit less confused. because man, bonnie is so well-written, it needs to be talked about more, and this aspect of them is especially handled really well

i also love them deeply, there's that. okay let's go team

to establish the facts: bonnie being angry is really the first thing we learn about them, and what siffrin's first association with them is at the point where we meet the party. it's even in their first memory's description. see? right there.

and i mean, they have a full right to be, don't they? the country is in a crisis. and while they've grown close to the rest of the party, the reason they're traveling with them in the first place is because they had to run away from their town, which they probably don't remember ever leaving beforehand, and leave their sister behind because she got frozen in time.

this is some scary stuff, especially for a kid, whose peace of mind relies on stability and familiarity. any turmoil introduced into even something as small as a daily routine can seriously mess them up, much less a separation from their one trusted guardian and a displacement of such a degree. i shudder to think what their thought process was when they were running from the curse before siffrin spotted them and the party took them in - they must've been so scared. i can't think about that too long or i feel like crying tho let's move on ok

bonnie is obviously mad at the king. they're so angry. well, who wouldn't be? he's the cause of all this. they want vengeance, they want justice, they want to help take him down! and doing only things they're limited to by the adults in the group feels like it's not enough.

this is a bit of a sidenote but this conversation hints at just how anxious bonnie's attachment style is. we know nille ran away with them from home and are given not much detail besides that, if only because bonnie was tiny and doesn't remember much of that, but both the fact that you don't have to remember something for it to shape the way you are and the fact that nille is probably pretty busy keeping both herself and her little sibling alive may be the reasons for bonnie's fear of abandonment and need to be useful

bonnie's entire friendquest stems from them needing to feel like they're contributing more, that's why they ask siffrin to teach them how to fight. and they ask siffrin specifically because they, despite their strained relationship at the moment, hold him in high regard and trust him to say if something is actually off-limits because, in their mind, he doesn't baby them needlessly.

that's rare for a kid, to not be overly coddled.

ok, back on track from the attachment style tangent, rise rise rise where is your rage back on

bonnie is even more mad at the king when they finally are facing him. and he's crying and despairing, and having the gall to act all pathetic. and bonnie can't take that. they have been so brave, keeping it together this entire time, and this guy, the cause of all this despair, dares to act like that? what gives him the right?

kids often default to expressing simpler emotions they can fully process and understand when an unexpected feeling corners them or when their defense system kicks in and deems an emotion too harmful yo fully experience; they round up to the closest emotion they can and go with that. bonnie is, of course, angry, but they're also full of fear about everything that's happening that's getting tuned out for their own self-preservation, and they feel a lot of indignation and confusion about this adult that doesn't even have the decency to have his shit together to the same degree bonnie does. bonnie doesn't understand him or why he did what he did, and it feels unfair that they were staying strong and the king can just fall apart like that. but anger is easier, so it all gets rounded to that.

recognizing the layers of bonnie's emotions and how one is caused by another is key to understanding them as a character. but honestly, the king isn't the strongest example we've got to show this, however - siffrin is a better one.

we're introduced to bonnie with them acting distant towards siffrin. only in act 1 are we able to experience what the natural dynamic between those two has been ever since siffrin lost their eye, and it's genuinely a little heartbreaking. it's a lot of siffrin being awkward and jumpy, unsure how to approach bonnie, and bonnie being huffy and disconnected, not really playing into the conversation.

things are tense and neither of them is equipped to diffuse the situation. it's so, so sad because context clues tell us they used to be close - siffrin was the first one to call bonnie "bonbon" but he doesn't do that anymore, bonnie avoids even just eye contact with him, and the way they're acting is clearly something siffrin believes to be a sign of bonnie decidedly not liking them anymore.

(this "being hated" is a surprise tool that will help us later)

while we don't know why things are the way they are at first, we later learn that it's because siffrin doesn't see getting hurt while protecting bonnie as a big deal. and bonnie is upset that he got really, really seriously hurt to the point of losing an eye and he's just waving it off. there's a few things at hand here that go into bonnie's seemingly simple reaction.

the issue here largely comes from siffrin's avoidance of talking about their internal state. because they waved things off, not wanting to talk about it, bonnie didn't have the chance to talk things through either, and process them healthily. the guilt, fear and sadness stemming from someone you care about getting hurt because they kept you safe all go unaddressed.

additionally, there's a cognitive distortion that kids often suffer from where they think everything happening is their fault, even when they were in no way involved in causing it, may play a part here. because their world is just so small, if kids can't pin the blame on something else (since it may be something they're not aware of or too vague), it doesn't compute, so they immediately place the blame on themselves.

there's of course an additional doom spiral of bonnie acting closed off, siffrin taking it as them hating him, and bonnie taking that as siffrin drifting away, and the cycle perpetuating because no one in the party wants to budge into this. everyone is allergic to communication.

the crux of it is, bonnie isn't really angry at siffrin, not in the way he is at the king. it's just easier for their preteen brain to categorize what they're feeling as anger, as a defense mechanism, and point those emotions outwards instead of keeping them inside. it's easier to lash out than regurgitate those feelings and let them eat away at them. so they act out, and scream, and call siffrin stupid.

and we have one than one example of bonnie lashing out with anger because that's the easiest option. it's certainly easier than figuring out what emotions they're exactly feeling and dealing with them without admitting they're a kid that doesn't understand how to do it alone.

among them is of course the way they act when they overhear the others talking about what to do if anyone dies, and the connected rotten adults event. after that safe room, bonnie is remarkably closed off, and if you go to the poem room, they read the book on funerary rites and then pointedly pretend to not do so when asked what they're doing.

it's an incredibly exemplary interaction, i think. because they're surprised, we get an almost step by step for their thought process, and it goes a bit like this:

i didn't mean for you to see me look at this and i want you to not know about it -> stop talking like you know what i was doing because i don't want you to know about it -> i want you to think it's nothing important so that you're not more interested -> i'll tell you i'm okay because that may make you think you don't need to look -> it's not working, so i'm going to tell you directly to stop looking at what i'm doing, or at me, because, again, i don't want you to know i'm in distress -> i'm feeling a lot of things so i need to expel them in some way, "shut up" -> this is isn't working, i need to deflect and give you something else to focus on

this avoidance and giving over the reins to anger instead of processing anything is something bonnie resorts to a lot when overloaded by a lot of different emotions they can't deal with

in bonnie's mind, talking about it is bad because it's distressing, and scary, and makes them think of awful scenarios they don't want to come true, and not talking about it means not feeling all that, and that's surely better. there's also that defense mechanism at work, the externalizing of negative emotions and pointing them outward instead of letting them hurt the inside. and it kicks in on full throttle when siffrin tries to comfort bonnie.

anyone who's been in an adolescent age in their life can recognize this emotion. wanting someone to just go away, leave you alone, stop talking about something or doing something. to bonnie, if you don't talk about something, it's not real, and siffrin comforting them a. anchors the cause of their state in reality, b. confirms they don't have everything together because they needed comforting in the first place. and that's no good! so they act out. it's like a deimatic behavior, a tactic to scare off something that you would otherwise have no choice but to give in to. they're not unlike a cat hissing and puffing up to seem bigger. you know those spicy kitten videos where they just do firecracker noises at a human hand closing in on them? yeah.

and it works!! to an inordinate degree because the object of it was siffrin who a. is extremely prone to believing people hate him, b. entered a time loop because he cares so much about these people and staying with them. told you that surprise tool would come back. in bonnie's defense, people usually don't rewind time when you do that, and just back off until your emotional state is calm enough that you can talk without feeling like imploding.

it's alright, siffrin just needs enough time to assemble their own thoughts before approaching bonnie again. and when he does, we see how to overcome the obstacle of an adolescent attempting to avoid a conversation concerning unpleasant feelings.

siffrin just gives bonnie space to experience those big feelings safely and explains calmly why something happened in the first place. when they try to avoid a conversation, he just gives them time to think about it instead of giving them any sort of pep-talk, and they talk it out calmly, and make a promise to reassure bonnie that they're both gonna keep each other safe. siffrin genuinely does a remarkable joke here. no one does it better than them nothing awful will ever happen. fans of love and friendship don't think too hard about end of act 3

to drive the point home, we get a bit of an awful reprise of bonnie lashing out as a self-defense tactic in act 5 because they're overwhelmed by just how upset siffrin made them by risking getting hurt on purpose just so they could be stronger. they do the same thing as before, resorting to throwing out hurtful words to scare off the source of all those intersecting negative feelings, and, since they can now, run away.

it needs to be understood that bonnie is not a kid pointlessly angry at nothing in particular and everything around them. their anger is in direct response to too many things happening at once and them having trouble processing all of it, and instead resorting to simplifying their emotions into one very primal one, and expelling it outwards in a form of them lashing out. they're going through an already confusing time of changes you're forced to go through during your adolescence - and a national curse-related crisis is not helping. when given the tools and space to process in an environment they feel is safe, they're not nearly as wrathful.

i guess the tl;dr is this - while they have a bit of a fiery personality and some of their rage is fully justified, bonnie for the most part acts out in anger because it feels like it's keeping them safe and allowing them to not bottle in things that are too confusing to them; it's already a scary world out there for a preteen entering the world of more complex emotions, and being far away from your sister and mid-way through a national crisis is making it even worse.

it might be a bit less noticeable because they spend most of the game upset at siffrin, so we don't see a lot of their sweeter side in one-on-one conversations as much, but honestly, they're such a sweet kid. so cute too, they're extremely endearing. it's no wonder the party is hell-bent on protecting them no matter what.

[angelyuji]

yandere mark grayson

might be a little ooc lowkey... sorry.

tw // stalking, nolan is an enabler, yandere behavior, emotional manipulation, honestly nothing too crazy compared to what ive written in the past

mark grayson x reader

im gonna talk mostly about story mark and not the variants but ill add a couple cutesy little remarks at the end

markie poo is very intense as a yandere, not in the kidnapping sort of sense but like emotionally

you’d probably meet him in college and start off as friends

he’s def the type to fall in love at first sight tho like he sees you and its like some angelic light bathed you

he was in awe

he def uses his powers to stalk you and figure out everything about you

william lowkey encourages it too cause…. he seems like the type to stalk his crushes (he’s a normal person so its like kinda a normal amount)

anyway he doesn’t really realize how he’s following you or watching you until someone points it out (eve) and he’s like “omg im so evil im so bad and evil and i should die”

and he confesses it to his parents cuz who knows better than him? mama y papa!!

“im so sorry, i know i shouldn’t use my powers to stalk (y/n). i know what im doing is wrong. i just like them… so so much.” mark buries his head in his hands, too ashamed to look at his parents.

he hears his mom sigh, “mark what you’ve been doing is-” she stops. mark looks up to see his dad whisper into her ear. she bites her lip before nodding. debbie pulls him into a hug before leaving the room to go upstairs. mark feels tears well up in his eyes, seeing the disappointment in his mom’s eyes.

“mark.” he looks over at his dad. “come here, son.” nolan pats the space next to him on the couch. mark hesitantly, moves to sit next to his father. “i sent your mother away because i needed to explain something to you. something she would never understand.” his father’s voice was low. mark swallows, trepidation building. “when i first met your mother, she had rejected me.” he sits back, “and i loved her more for it. everyday i would watch her, where she worked, where she lived, who she spent time with, everything, mark. i needed to know more about her, i wanted for her to be mine… i was-” nolan barks out a laugh, “i was willing to take her away from everything if she would’ve rejected me again.” he looks over at mark, “fortunately for all of us, your mom agreed for a date and now… here we are.” nolan smiles, wistfully. mark stays silent, processing everything. nolan pats his son on the knee, “what i’m trying to say, son, is that what you’re doing is normal. you are my son, of course you could love like i do.” nolan ruffles mark’s hair before standing up.

“but mom-”

“what your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her, mark. and what (y/n) doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

i made up that nolan did all that, but like…. who would be surprised if he actually did lol

anyway, nolan highkey made mark worse becuz why would u say all that, man… (i made him say it but that’s beside the point)

mark doesn’t even have his own place yet, so kidnapping is off the table and with papa nolan in space, he knows debbie won’t be down for him bringing back a gagged you lol

if ur single, he’ll just push and push and push until you’re like omg fine ill go on a date with you

he’ll do everything right just so you won’t think about not dating him

he doesn’t want to tell you that he’s invincible but if it means you’ll trust him to protect you, he’ll do tell u

he’s very very very overprotective

if you’re in danger… everybodys dying he does not gaf

if ur in a relationship, ur partner’s going missing… sorry to them but mark will swoop in while you’re grieving and then bam somehow you guys are dating

he would never hurt you, but he would hurt other people to get to you/make you realize you’ll never escape him

like father like son as they say

anyway some quickie thoughts about invincible war before we move on

the moment those unhinged freaks stepped foot into this universe, they’re gonna find you

similar to that moment in the show where the burned looking mark when home to fake-cry to kill debbie, smth like that except they show up and take you with them

anyway i have similar thoughts but mostly about omni-mark and the other freaked up mark #needthatbad

they’re sooo obsessed with u but its hard to give a generalized behavior headcanon cuz each of my freaks are so different

also before i go, i wanna go back to when i said he’s very emotionally intense

he’ll twist your words and make you feel bad for rejecting him/not listening to him

mark would def use his fears to make you do what he wants

“mark, i need to get to class.” you try to pull yourself out of his grasp, but his hands go back around your waist. the two of you lay naked next to each other in your dorm after he had come back from patrol, you can see his suit peeking out from under the bed as you try to pull yourself away once more.

“(y/n), please don’t go.” you turn to look at your boyfriend, he pouts as he pulls you closer. he buries his head into your chest and you feel your face get hot.

“mark, i have to go to class. i’ve already missed 3 lectures because of you.” you push yourself away and off the bed. you feel his hand clasp onto yours. “mark.” you frown and look back, annoyed, when you see his tears. “oh my god, mark,” you immediately fold, holding him close.

“i just… i’m sorry i know you have to go to class, but i was so worried with everything that’s happening. i had- i had a nightmare i lost you.” his voice was thick as he held back his tears. he presses his lips against yours, rough and needy. you let him; your heart heavy as you feel the weight on his shoulders. “i can’t lose you, (y/n). you’re my… you’re my everything, i can’t survive without you.” you let him kiss you once more, letting him pour his love into you. soon, you find yourself wrapped up in his touch. his lips against every part of you, his hands caressing your skin, his voice whispering sweetly into your ears. you missed your classes once more as mark held you tight. “i won’t survive without you, (y/n)…” his voice lulls you back to sleep, “and i won’t let you leave me.”

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

[since everything under a Read More cut gets deleted in case a blog deletes/gets deleted and the WayBackMachine isn’t good with pictures, for Archive Purposes Only, I will add the most important bits of the/rest of the full post and have put the screenshots into the correct order.]

Ping (Apple's music-focused social network connected to the iTunes account) shut down on September 30, 2012.

The post here was made on September 20, 2012, so when the screenshots says "Today" or "1 day ago", we can estimate it was approx. between Sep 20 and 15. And prior to that, there are dates next to the posts, so we know for sure.

I will post close-ups and write down what's in the screenshots, because some text is hard to decipher.

🎧 I also created a Spotify playlist of all the songs Louis liked and bought with his profile.

•

first off, Louis' profile:

the profile pic is a sweet picture of Harry & him 💙💚 Louis Tomlinson - Dance, Pop, R&B/Soul Where I Live: Doncaster, United Kingdom (very hard to read, could be 10,569 Followers or 15,569 Followers) About Louis T. 1/5 of One Direction :) LOVE music :)

Louis T. Follows (5) ADELE, One Direction, Matt Cardle, Katy Perry, Rihanna Following Louis T. (10(?),569) Maria Hunt, ???, Ja-??? Antonio/e Yung, Jennifer Ars-???, Shawn Jones

Louis liked the song Belief by John Mayer ("Today" at 1:11 o'clock) [he had already purchased the album that song was on on Sep 9, 2012] Commented by Ashley J.: "how about you leave him alone about the situation? even on ping though, seriously?"

Louis purchased the song All That I Am by Parachute ("1 day ago")

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis liked the song She Is Love (Full Band Version) by Parachute ("1 day ago") Commented by Alyson C.: "love this band! You've got amazing taste in music!! :D"

Louis purchased the album Coexist by The XX (Sep 14, 2012) Commented by Lagah E.: "Love it that you love this. xx"

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the song Live It Up (Radio Edit) by Tulisa. (Sep 14, 2012) Commented by danna r.: "I would like one day you could answer any comments or tell me something"

Louis purchased the album Born and Raised by John Mayer (Sep 12, 2012) Commented by Cathy S.: "annoyed with this. this is louis, she didnt have to go changeing the name of it. no, thats rude. ugh. tb."

Louis liked the song Gravity by John Mayer (Sep 12, 2012) [he had already purchased the album this song was on on Sep 9, 2012]

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the album The Collection: John Mayer (5 Complete Albums) by John Mayer -- consisting of Heavier Things, Room For Squares, Battle Studies, Born and Raised, Continuum) [by that point, he already owned Continuum and a few other songs from the albums] (Sep 12, 2012) Commented by Alexis M.: "^^^thats what I was thinking."

Louis purchased the song Neon by John Mayer [since he first purchased this song and then the The Collection: John Mayer, maybe he really loved the song and then there was some kind of sale on the The Collection and he thought 'ah, why not just get everything all at once?' But who knows. :) He defs had a couple of song duplicates after he'd bought The Collection] (Sep 12, 2012) Commented by Aria P.: "omg this is my jam"

Louis purchased the song She Is Love by Parachute. [a few days later, he also bought the All Band Version of that song] (Sep 9, 2012)

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the album Continuum by John Mayer. (Sep 9, 2012) Commented by Caitlin B.: "Is that album good?"

Louis purchased the album Beacon (Deluxe Version) by Two Door Cinema Club [two days earlier, he had bought the basic version already] (Sep 4, 2012) Commented by Francesca B.: "Love two door cinema club. loving the the new album!"

Louis purchased the song Mrs. Officer by Lil Wayne, Bobby Valentino & Kidd Kidd (Sep 2, 2012)

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the album Beacon by Two Door Cinema Club [two days later, he bought the album again, but the Deluxe Version] (Sep 2, 2012) Commented by FeR t.RoMaN t.: "i LOVE U!!!"

Louis purchased the song We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift [louis, you are the king of shade] (Sep 2, 2012) Commented by Jax V.: "really...really?"

Louis purchased the song Good Time by Owl City & Carly Rae Jepsen (Sep 2, 2012)

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the song Vanilla Twilight by Owl City (Sep 2, 2012) Commented by Laura A.: "get The Saltwater Room and Cave In (get everything from Adam Young)"

Louis purchased the song Fireflies by Owl City (Sep 2, 2012) Commented by Bailey H.: "this song is good"

Louis purchased the album ORA (Deluxe Version) by Rita Ora (Aug 31, 2012)

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the song Transylvania by McFly (Aug 18, 2012) Commented by Gabriela B.: "you beautiful human being why do you have such an amazing taste in music"

continued in Part 2

So, Ping (iTunes’ ill-fated social network) will be shutting down on September 30th and I couldn't let Louis' profile disappear forever, so I screenshotted the entire thing.

and put it all here. so enjoy 64 screenshots of Louis’ musical taste

~updated in 2021 with working screenshots

Keep reading

[suguboos]

USED TO BE MY GIRL

getting stuck baby catsitting a high maintenance ball of fur wasn't how you planned on spending your saturday. and then your ex shows up for the same thing. yay!

FEATURING: ex boyfriend! gojo satoru x fem reader

CONTENTS: 18+ content, MDNI. non canon compliant/au (he’s a ceo), kinda angsty at first but gets pretty silly :p, he’s kind of an idiot sorry, ex sex, unprotected p in v, kinda pathetic gojo, body worship, nipple play, panty-sniffing + panty taking (?), cunnilingus + fingering, missionary, hair pulling (m receiving), belly bulge mention, some aftercare

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: over two months later here it is ^.^ anyways, forst time (solely) writing for this white haired freak so lmk ur thots 🥸

@aquasoftware here it isss, hope you enjoy bae :3

“we should break up.”

when you’d spent nearly an hour and half in the shower prior to this date and another hour getting ready, the last thing that you would’ve imagined was that you were getting dumped. publicly.

fairy lights illuminated the dark sky, soft jazz playing throughout the restaurant’s speakers out into the balcony—a simple quiet evening where you and satoru had been having a pleasant dinner date.

you could practically hear your tiktok swirling down the drain—is he going to propose or he just…?

setting down the the glass of water you had in hand, you turned to look over at him just to make sure you’d heard him right, “you want to break up.”

the entirety of your relationship came flashing to the forefront of your mind along with questions that you weren’t even sure you wanted the answer to. how long had he been thinking about this breakup?

and just what was so unforgivable that he didn’t deem this relationship worth it anymore? you began relaying all the little things the two of you bickered about—like dirty dishes in the sink, socks scattered in the hallway, or picking out where to go eat.

all the little arguments that somehow seemed all too big at the moment. but surely those didn’t warrant a breakup of all things, right?

“well no, i don’t want to break up,” he stared at anything and everything but you, paying more attention to the flower bed situated beside you, “but we don’t have enough time to put into this relationship.”

“you mean you don’t want to put enough time into this relationship,” you stated plainly, folding your arms across your chest.

case in point, the two of you had finally come out to dinner after multiple ‘i can’t make it, sweet cheeks’ or ‘can we reschedule? i’ll make it up to you, princess, i promise.’

“to-satoru,” you were quick to correct yourself and fuck, that stung more than it was probably supposed to—he couldn’t even begin to remember the last time he wasn’t your toru—“we’ve been making it work so far, we can keep trying to make it work.”

the moment that satoru looked up at you, you already knew. it was practically engraved all over his face—he didn’t want to make it work, all that he was doing was simply announcing the break up to you.

“i love you,” he spoke up after a couple seconds, like that had the answer to everything, “and i don’t want you to end up hating me because this relationship will never be a priority to me. not as much as my family’s business.”

you sat there in complete silence, barely registering when the waitstaff had placed your food in front of you. food that you didn’t even have an appetite for anymore—despite wanting to try out the restaurant for a few months now. “so if this relationship wasn’t a priority to you, what was it?”

satoru tried to find the words to speak but before he could get a word in, you continued, “and if you knew, if you fucking knew—” your voice cracked, “—then why even bother in the first place? why even bother making me fall in love with you?”

each moment of silence that lingered in the air gnawed at your mind, each second that you waited for some explanation to come. “i’m sorry,” gojo reached over to take your hand, an action that you quickly rejected. you pulled your hand away, hastily getting out of your chair.

“you’re not giving me an answer, just half assed responses,” a bitter laugh left your lips, “just answer me one question, please. when did you decide this relationship just.. wasn’t worth it? that i wasn’t worth it anymore?”

“you will always be worth it to me, but—” gojo spoke up, avoiding your gaze all the while. an action that made your eye twitch—wanting to shake him by his shoulders and make him give you an answer. instead, you settled for tightening your grip around your purse.

“—but sukuna co.’s basically starting a war between the two companies, stealing away our biggest clients and investors alike. i don’t have the time to be with you. like i said, i don’t want you to hate me.”

a scoff threatened to leave your lips, tears threatening to spill with each blink you took. when he finally looked at you is that you finally spoke, “it’s a little too late for that. but fine, since you’re adamant on throwing away our relationship—we’re done. have ijichi take the stuff i left at your place to my apartment sometime in the week. i never want to see you again.”

the unfinished piece of steak you’d ordered a few minutes prior sat on the table, the only reminder that you’d ever been here in the first place. well that and the aching feeling of regret settling deep within his very bones with each step you took further away from him.

gojo satoru was a truly hopeless man.

every single thing about you consumed his every thought like an unrelenting parasite every single day, every single hour, and every single minute. he’d resorted to having one of your shirts next to him, the scent of the perfume he loved so much lulling him to sleep at late hours of the night.

and it worked for the most part. but the fantasy dissipated the moment his fingertips reached out to grab you, to hold you, only to find nothing but cold sheets and the sheer feeling of utter regret.

waking up to find your coffee mug sitting on the counter where you’d usually be leaning up against, finding himself torn between wanting to store it away in the depths of his cabinet or keep it there just in case. just in case, in the odd chance, that you’d come back to him. that he’d wake up and his stupidity was just a dream.

and usually, the latter ended up winning. the coffee mug remained in its rightful spot, stuck in time. stuck in memories of simple morning bliss.

then he found himself thinking what even was the point of having all this ‘extra’ time to himself when he couldn’t bring himself to focus in on any meetings? when all that came to mind when he filled out another report from the heavy paper stack was the look on your face.

and so, here he was begging shoko for just an opportunity to talk to you again.

after countless attempts of trying to send you extravagant bouquets of roses and cashapp requests in the thousands just begging to be unblocked. you usually accepted the money, leaving him blocked regardless.

satoru would take that as a good thing, at the very least.

“sho, pleaseee,” a loud whine left his lips, attracting some attention from those passing by. not that it necessarily mattered; he would get on his knees if deemed necessary.

“weren’t you the one who dumped her? in public, too?” shoko raised a brow, taking an obnoxious sip from her coffee.

gojo let out an offended scoff, “sho, you’re missing the point. yeah, i made a tiny little mistake but i’m trying to fix it.”

shoko simply took another sip of the black coffee in hand, giving him a quizzical look, “disregarding everything i just said, somehow you think my cat’s the answer to your problems.”

“well duh, that’s what i’ve been trying to tell you. all we need is like five minutes together and it’ll be like the breakup didn’t happen,” satoru responded, taking his own obnoxious sip of the overly sweet concoction he called an ice coffee.

(a drink rumored by baristas to have the capacity to put a victorian child in the hospital)

she set her cup down, folding her arms across her chest as she faced him. a clear sign that she was about to go on a spiel about how utterly ridiculous this whole idea was. so, naturally, gojo took out his wallet, handing her a couple hundred bills as if he were handing out flyers, “please.”

shoko took the money in hand, flipping over through the bills before letting out a reluctant sigh. “you’re forgetting to include the lying and deception fee. she’s my friend, y’know.”

“fine, i’ll message her. it’s not on me if it doesn’t work out, though.”

satoru let out a quiet hum, adding in as an afterthought, “hey, silly question, haha, but you don’t happen to know if she maybe kept the flowers?”

shoko didn’t find the same amusement, staring at him blankly, “she gave them all away.”

he nearly choked on a sip from his coffee, nearly knocking his drink off the table, “all of them?! she didn’t keep a singular rose? a petal? anything!?”

passersby looked over at the table upon his little outburst yet again, having shoko hide her face behind the menu. “keep. it. down. and no, i think she mentioned smacking the vase over your head if you kept sending them actually.”

gojo quickly came to realize that maybe, just maybe, there was the odd chance that he’d need more than five minutes.

but at least step one of his plan was complete.

now to see if you’d actually show up.

“hey, sorry i’m late,” you gave shoko an apologetic smile when she opened the door,

“it’s fine, you’re not that late. i have something to tell you, though.”

you stepped foot into her apartment, leaving your shoes at the door before dropping your bag off at the kitchen counter. “yeah, what’s up?”

“so, you’re not actually babysitting her alo-” shoko barely managed to get that out without grimacing before you heard a grating voice behind you, a voice you were hoping to never hear again, “pooks, what a silly coincidence.”

you simply looked at shoko with a pleading expression, begging for this to be a joke. all you received in response was a slight grimace, her own version of an apologetic look on her face, “i wasn’t actually expecting him to show up, i’m sorry.”

gojo came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders for a split second before you pushed it off. and he had the audacity to look at you with his arms raised in defense, “okay, okay, jeez. but at least we’ll both be babysitting the little maniac.” like that was supposed to be any reassurance.

“more like i’ll be stuck babysitting two maniacs,” your response came out immediately, and much to your annoyance, it only made satoru’s grin spread even further.

“always so charming, princess.”

“i’ll be right back. try not to kill each other,” shoko called out, disappearing up the stairs and leaving you alone with gojo. exactly how you planned on spending your saturday off.

“so you didn’t have enough time for a relationship but you have enough time to catsit,” you finally turned to look around at him with a glare on your face, and damn. he’d even made time to hit the gym more often, biceps straining against the tight material of his black compression shirt.

it would’ve made you practically drool if you hadn’t gotten pissed all over again—he had the time for everything else but you, clearly. you quickly averted your gaze, staring at shoko’s home decor with a newfound curiosity.

“how could i give up the opportunity to catsit this little cutie? she loves me,” satoru had a cocky grin when he spoke, walking over to the cat and patting her head. a cocky grin that quickly morphed into an overexaggerated frown.

if the cat loved him—she certainly didn’t show it now. purrsephone hissed in retaliation, flicking her fluffy white tail against his arm when she turned to face the wall. “can really feel the love,” you deadpanned, making yourself at home on the couch.

satoru took that as an opportunity, plopping his bony ass next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “you’ll see, she’ll get used to me,” he remarked, making a point to flex his arm against you.

you shoved his arm away, inching away from gojo until you reached the end of the couch. “just because we’re stuck in the confines of these four walls for the next night doesn’t mean we have to get along.”

gojo wasn’t exactly sure if it was the disgust on your face or the fact that you were acknowledging him for once—but he found himself getting turned on regardless.

“so let’s just focus on keeping the cat alive for—blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff,” satoru found himself nodding along, staring mindlessly at your pretty face, “i’m so pretty, i like you. but im angry with you for some reason.”

you snapped your fingers in front of his face when you saw a bit of drool start to leak out from the corner of his lip, letting out an annoyed grunt, “you didn’t listen to anything i said, did you?”

“absolutely not, princess.”

shoko walked over to the extensive cat tree, picking up the white ball of fluff from her resting spot and placing her against her chest. “if the two idiots don’t feed you, i give you full consent to scratch their eyes out,” she cooed, letting the cat rub up against her shamelessly.

somehow, you didn’t doubt that she was being 100% serious either.

the second shoko dropped purrsephone back onto the cat tree to get her suitcase, the cat was already glaring at the two of you again. definitely loathing this idea more than yourself.

“alright, have fun. there’s a to-do list of sorts on my nightstand and if there’s anything else, just call me,” shoko called out, leaving for her medical convention. (ie: a bunch of show offs grouped together with an open bar)

purrsephone looked over at shoko with each step she took, letting out a pitiful meow before making her way down the cat tree. she hopped onto the couch, walking over satoru’s lap in circles before laying down in a ball.

"see? told you the cat just had to warm up to me," gojo began stroking through her fur, sticking his tongue out to you. the moment hadn't lasted for more than a minute—purrsephone had chosen to use his designer pants as her scratch post, digging her tiny razor sharp claws into his thighs.

“ow-ow-OW! let go, you little gremlin!” satoru let out a loud hiss, moving to pull the cat’s claws off his pants. she remained unmoving, practically attached to him now. purrsephone simply looked over at him like he was the inconvenience.

“meow.”

“please?”

“meow.”

a low huff left your lips, standing up from your spot on the couch. “alright, while you go deal with that situation, i’m gonna go see where the list is,” you approached the stairs, hastily stopping in your steps to look back at the two, “don’t mess this place up, please.”

picking up the scribbled note when you approached the nightstand, you began skimming through the contents—

shoko’s 101 guide to taking care of purrsephone

1) only eats 1/2 of a cup between 2pm-5pm

2) she only falls asleep after a warm glass of milk and singing her a lullaby (she’s really into twinkle twinkle little star)

before you could continue reading the list of demands, you heard a loud CRASH echoing through the living room up until it met your ears. “ah fuck,” you could barely pick up gojo’s complaint, taking a deep breath to brace yourself. it couldn’t be that bad, right? you’d only left for a minute or two.

wrong.

you walked downstairs to find the living room a complete mess, from cat litter sticking to the floors up to the couch and somehow even the walls to cat droplets trailing a little path around the expanse of the coffee table. you walked closer to gojo, practically in his face and digging a finger against his chest,

"you just can't do anything right, can you? i swear, it's like it goes in one ear and ou-" your complaints were quickly shut down, his lips pressing against your own before you could even muster what was happening. 

every single atom in your body was screaming to push him away, not to do this. again. but instead of doing just that, your fingers dug into his shirt and pulled him all that much closer.

kissing him felt all too familiar—a practiced dance you hadn’t quite managed to forget all the moves to. “be mad at me later, just.. let me have this please,” he pleaded, pressing his forehead against your own.

and you were certain that the man had done witchcraft, gotten some spell from a witch on etsy that’d been activated with the kiss, because somehow, someway, you found yourself nodding.

satoru hooked his fingers underneath your thighs, squeezing the supple flesh once while he made his way up the stairs. “mmph, fuck, i missed you baby,” he let out a quiet moan against your lips.

“shut it,” was your response, nibbling down on his bottom lip. your nails raked through his hair, tugging at the strands when you pulled him closer.

“yes ma’am,” satoru breathed out, lightly opening up the guest door on the far edge of the hallway. closing the door behind him, he walked over to the queen sized bed in the middle of the room before gently placing you down.

every second was savored—not willing himself to stay away from you for too long. he was hovering above you in a matter of seconds, holding your chin in between your fingers, “can i?”

once again, every thought in your mind was telling you to push him away. to remember how little he made you feel. “yes,” your mouth had a mind of its own, answering him before you thought better of it.

satoru let out a sigh, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “are you sure? i want you to want me. to want this as much as i do.”

you shook your head, reaching up and pressing your palm against his cheek. he was like a pathetic puppy, rubbing against your touch. “i do want it, toru. i want you.”

his touch was careful, almost like unraveling an expensive gift he didn’t quite want to ruin the wrapping of. a strangled breath left him upon seeing your lingerie, cerulean and lace framing your body in the best damn present he’d opened.

a cerulean blue that was too similar to his eye color—too much for him to deem as a coincidence.

looking over at you in disbelief, he asked, “when’d you make the switch to agent provocateur?”

you raised a brow at how quickly he recognized the material—deciding to leave it be though, “ever since i had seven grand to blow from a veryyy generous donor last week.”

satoru let out a quiet scoff, tracing the outline of the lace on your bra with the tip of his finger. his thumb barely circled against your clothed nipple, a featherlight touch, “and just who were you planning on showing this pretty set to?”

“wouldn’t you like to know weather boy?” a scoff of your own left your lips, rolling your eyes. but he was already in his own little world by now.

satoru had been deprived of the taste of you for months now—the very feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips nearly having him break out in a moan.

every nerve in his brain seemed to go haywire when he pressed his lips against your neck, the lingering scent of your perfume intoxicating whatever brain cells remained in that big noggin.

"did you just moan?" you raised your head as you looked down at him. never mind, not almost.

“you taste and smell good, what did you expect?” he licked a stripe down your neck, reaching your collarbone. gojo gently pulled the skin in between his teeth, sucking at the flesh. determined to leave a mark—even if you’d just have him for today.

each kiss trailed lower and lower down until he got to your shoulder, unable to resist the urge of snapping your bra strap. before you had the chance to glare at him, he reached for your back—unclasping the hooks and tossing your $300 bra to the floor.

you nearly winced.

“there’s my girls,” satoru took one of your breasts in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple, “my favorite girls. missed them too, missed everything about you, baby.”

one of his large hands engulfed your other breast, rolling his thumb against your areola while he mindlessly sucked on the one in his mouth. “there you go. arch your back for me, sweetheart,” a groan left his lips, slipping his knee in between your legs to keep them open.

satoru alternated between each breast, giving each equal attention. leaving your nipples hard and covered in his spit. “so pretty,” he whispered in awe, giving each a farewell kiss.

he made his way down to your navel, pressing chaste kisses to whatever skin he had access to. kissing everywhere but where you needed him most—where he was rubbing his knee against.

you almost expected him to pounce up at the first opportunity, but instead, he settled by the foot of the bed. his touch featherlight as he dragged his fingers from your ankle to your calf, eliciting goosebumps down your spine in his wake.

“i’m sorry,” satoru started off, pressing his lips against your right calf before moving on to the left. “never wanted to make you cry, baby,” he continued, kissing his way up your leg.

not a single inch of your body went untouched by his lips before he moved up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. you raised your hips, letting him slide them down your legs.

he looked up at you with puppy eyes, holding the slick-covered panties you in his hand. a silent request.

your eyes narrowed, “no. you’re not keeping those.”

satoru let out a whine, bringing your panties up to his nose. taking an audible whiff and closing his eyes, practically relishing in the lace. “oh come on, i’m the one who got you these, technically.”

“generous donor, since we’re getting technical,” you shrugged, “put the merchandise down on the floor.”

“i’ll get you ten more. twenty, if that’s what you want. just let me keep these,” he spoke quickly, watching the way your eyes practically turned into money signs. “and maybe if you just show them off to me.”

he’d already spent over seven grand, what was a couple more thousand?

you looked at the pair in his hand, before shrugging, “i’ll be generous and only ask for fifteen.”

satoru quickly pocketed your panties, kissing up your thigh. “the most generous,” he mused, nibbling on your inner thigh. his hands spread your legs out, presenting to him like one of the finest meals.

and he was more than ready to feast.

he leaned forward, swiping his tongue in between your folds. your fingers ran through his hair again, gripping his hair tightly. or at least.. you thought your grip was tight. it was hard to tell when satoru moaned regardless, sucking on your folds.

“so good, so good, use me, i’m all yours, always been,” just one taste of you again was enough to have him pussy drunk, babbling against your cunt. you pushed his head further into your cunt, swiveling your hips against his eager tongue, “yeah, yeah, just like that, don’t stop.”

you looked over to see satoru laying down on his stomach, completely at bliss slurping and sucking at your cunt with his feet swinging back and forth. if his mouth and hands weren’t busy, you had no doubt that he’d be twirling his hair and giggling.

“come onnn, let me know how i’m good i’m making you feel,” he pouted as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, his lips glossed over with your slick.

"fuck you," you bit down on your lip, gritting the words out in an attempt to keep any moans at bay.

"aht, aht, that's my job, cutie. and first, you gotta tell me what you want," satoru gave your thigh a loud smooch, his fingertips tracing your folds and barely dipping inside of your dripping cunt before he’d pull away. only to repeat it again.

in a moment of weakness, you found yourself relenting, “your fingers, toru. please,” it came out low, barely enough for his ears to register. and almost like clockwork, he took that opportunity to tease you further.

“what was that, baby? couldn’t really hear you,” he retorted, clicking his tongue. when you went to open your mouth, he pushed his fingers inside of your cunt. the loud squelch cutting you off completely.

“your. fingers,” you gritted out, your request coming out louder, “please.”

he pushed his fingers inside of you yet again, bringing them to his lips and swirling his tongue around them, “please what?” another tease.

“please, toru. i want your fingers,” a low whine was evident in your voice.

“there we go, baby. that wasn’t so hard, hm?” his fingers thrusted inside of you once more, curling in a come hither motion.

satoru closed his lips around your puffy clit, sucking on it before swirling his tongue. he started with drawing small circles on your nub, before your brows furrowed.

he was using your damn clit as a writing board.

the tip of his tongue carefully spelled each letter,

‘I. LOVE. YOU.’

“seriously?” it came out shakier than you would’ve liked, little gasps and unsteady breaths leaving your lips.

“mhm,” he didn’t bother on elaborating further, covering your clit in his spit as he sucked. the curl of his fingers hit that spot inside of you with each thrust, his fingers thrusting deeper than even some of your toys.

“ah ah, fuck!” you let out a moan, hips bucking into his face to meet his tongue frantically. “don’t stop, don’t stop, just like that,” each swipe and thrust brought you closer and closer, your back nearly off the mattress.

satoru simply shook his head, swiping his tongue back and forth. the idea was simply absurd—that he was even capable of thinking to stop. “not gonna stop, baby. just wanna keep tasting you,” he responded, swinging his feet back and forth again in sync with his thrusts.

you weren’t sure if you hated him or you wanted to fuck him even more. maybe a little of both.

that familiar coil tightened in your lower stomach, your nails practically digging into his scalp in response. “ah fuck, yeah, dig them in there, i can take it, i can take it,” satoru was reduced to a babbling mess yet again, each whine vibrating against your clit.

“i’m close, i’m close, gonna cum,” your moans had him pushing his hips into the mattress, seeking anything to relief his aching cock. but—this wasn’t about him. it was about you first. “come for me, baby, take what you need.”

the coil inside of you snapped, your orgasm hitting you at once. your hips stilled, your release coating his fingers and spilling out onto the bedsheets underneath. he sucked his fingers, cleaning up every. single. last. dribble.

gojo wasted no time in unzipping his pants, sliding them down along with his boxers. freed from its confines, his cock sprung up against his stomach. pink tip twitching and all—dripping drop after drop of precum.

wrapping a hand around the base, he swiped the tip against your folds. much like he’d be swiping his card later. up and down, letting your slick coat the head before he slowly pushed it inside. pushing against that initial resistance.

“biggg stretch, there we go,” a hiss escaped from his lips, feeling your walls squeeze against him tightly. he had to close his eyes, refusing to look down at you. he knew that if he did, that would be all it would take for him to bust.

satoru placed your legs on his shoulders, slowly starting to move his hips forward. pushing inch by inch inside with each thrust, up until he could see his tip bulging in your lower tummy.

“toru?” your voice broke him out of the trance, hazy blues meeting your own glazed over gaze.

“yes, baby?”

“you think maybe, just maybe, you could go a little faster?”

satoru broke out into a cheshire like grin, making you instantly regret your ask, “anything for you, my princess.”

*PLAP* *PLAP* *PLAP*

the sound of your skin slapping against his own, the sound of your moans and his shaky breaths filled the room, mixing in with the heavy stench of sex. satoru’s grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into you while he used your cunt how he pleased.

“that fast enough for you, baby?” satoru taunted, a smirk on his face. the sight in front of him was nothing short of perfect—from the way your jaw fell taut, drool leaking out from the corner of your lips with each punishing thrust. all the way down to the way your tits bounced, each bounce nearly putting him in a hypnosis.

“yes yes, fuck!” your hands dug into the bedsheets underneath as a lifeline, something to cling onto. you could even feel the slight curve to the left, each vein grazing your walls.

“y-yeah? finally good enough for you?” you could only nod in response, his cock drilling out every thought. your walls squeezed around him, toes curling against his back. you didn’t have to give him any warning this time—he simply knew.

“so good, so good,” you babbled like a broken record, his dick hitting your g-spot with such ease it had you wondering why you’d ever accepted the breakup.

“suck for me,” satoru prodded his thumb against your bottom lip. you instinctively parted your lips, swirling your tongue around it and sucking on it. all while keeping your eyes on him. he could’ve sworn you were trying to kill him now.

you released with a pop, his thumb glistening with your saliva. “ah fuck! keep going, keep going!” satoru rubbed quick circles against your clit, his own thrusts starting to grow sloppier and sloppier. heavy balls smacked against your ass with each push of his hips, one of his feet propped up against the mattress for an angle that had your eyes rolling back.

“t-toru! make me cum, please, please!” you whined, nails scraping against the cotton bedsheets. your walls clenched against him tightly, milking his cock, before your orgasm washed over you like a wave.

your release coated his shaft, your cunt squelching as he fucked you towards his own orgasm. he was close, so so close, but the man needed one more push. “tell me you love me, please,” his voice came out ragged, “i need you to tell me.”

“i love you, toru,” his name had never sounded so good, so sweet before. the quiet whisper of your admission was all it took to push him from the edge. a low groan left his lips, spurt after spurt of cum dripping inside of you. painting your walls white, pooling where he and you were still connected.

satoru pulled out carefully, the mixture of fluids dripping from his softening shaft onto the cotton bedsheets underneath. at least he’d been smart enough to use the guest room. “stay here, i’ll be right back with something to clean you off.”

he came back into the room with a wet hand towel from the guest bathroom, gently cleaning in between your legs. wiping away at the cum dripping down your legs, staining your thighs. “there we go, how are you feeling? you need water?” satoru tossed the towel to the side, pulling his pants back up.

“no, thank you. but you’re cleaning up the cat shit downstairs by the way,” you pulled the covers over your nude body, turning your back over to him. satoru let out a whine, kneeling over on the bed, “you’re not serious.”

kiss. kiss. he pressed his lips gently from your exposed shoulder blade up to your neck, his mouth ghosting over your ear when he finished. “please, baby?” he whispered, the proximity of it all making a shiver run down your spine.

a shiver that you concealed by pulling the cover tighter around your body, turning your head away from him. “no. you made the mess.”

gojo reluctantly made his way downstairs, picking up a broom for what seemed to be the first time in his life before he started to awkwardly sweep the floor. trying and failing to scoop it up in the dust pan. trying to mimic what he’d seen from one of the maids.

even the cat had woken up from her nap, staring daggers into him with beady emerald eyes. despite him feeding her just a couple minutes beforehand and trying to appease her with extra treats (the cat was not appeased). like she knew what had just taken place upstairs.

“don’t look at me like that, i’ll give you more,” satoru pouted when the cat continued to glare holes into him, possibly definitely plotting out his murder when he went to sleep tonight, “please.”

eventually, after 9 minutes of trying (and failing) to mop up the place, he broke down. he dialed shoko’s number like second nature, hoping to every entity she wasn’t completely drunk off her ass. or passed out. or both.

“heyyyyy, how you doing?” shoko slurred into the phone. at least she was coherent enough to respond. phew.

“things are fine. but…” satoru took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing he’d get, “—how do you use a broom?” the words left him in a whisper, akin to a deeply guarded shame. maybe it was.

“come again?”

he had to take another deep breath, letting out a quiet groan before repeating himself, “i’m asking you for help on using a broom.”

one second passed.

two seconds passed.

he almost had the hope that shoko wouldn’t react.

a hope that quickly died out when shoko burst out into boisterous cackles, managing to get out a broken, “you don’t know how to use one at almost thirty?”

satoru folded his arms with a petulant pout on his face, tapping his foot against the floor while he waited for shoko to get her laugh in. “no. can you just help me? your cat’s glaring at me.”

it was almost pitiful the way he clung onto every word shoko was telling him, finishing up what should’ve been a thirty minute job in an hour. he leaned back against the couch cushion, wiping nonexistent sweat from his forehead.

“how do you people do this everyday?” he let out a scoff, taking a moment to admire his surroundings. squeaky clean. absolutely no streaks on the floor (maybe a couple on the wall—they didn’t count.)

he could practically hear shoko’s eyeroll, a grunt leaving her lips, “dunno, probably by not depending on maids or whatever.”

“touché, yeah. but if you had a maid, the opportunity to babysit with my girlfriend wouldn’t have happened.”

“speaking of babysitting. sooo, how’d it go?” shoko mused from the other line, her words starting to slur together. seemingly more drunk than when the conversation first started.

satoru giggled, giggled into the phone, “oh, we’re so getting back together. it only took her like one glance and she was already soo whipped.”

“uh-huh,” and despite shoko’s obvious disinterest in the conversation, satoru continued to talk her ear out, “no, no, but i’m telling you. she wants me so bad, i swear. she practically jumped my bones.”

after nearly 20 ‘uh-huh’s’ and 15 ‘that’s crazy’s’ from shoko, he decided to hang up and go back to bed. a small smile formed on his face upon seeing you still asleep, trying to carefully tip toe his way into the opposite side of the bed.

“did i wear you out, baby?” he poked the side of your cheek when you finally stirred, propping himself up on a elbow. despite the stupid grin on his face, he couldn’t hide the sheer adoration in his eyes.

not when he stared at you like you were an expensive painting, something to be admired. scratch that—someone that he wouldn’t mind admiring if given the opportunity to.

“no, never that,” you let out a stifled yawn, rubbing your eyes. a clear indicator that he did, indeed, wear you out.

satoru let out a small snicker, nodding along before wrapping an arm around your torso. bracing himself for the moment that you’d push him away like before. much to his surprise, you didn’t.

you welcomed the cuddling—much to your tired state, scooting closer to where he was laying down.

and satoru didn’t find himself minding cleaning up cat shit again if it meant getting to hold you like this. to have you mold against him like a missing puzzle piece.

though granted, he’d like to avoid cleaning up cat shit for as long as possible.

you wrapped an arm around him, resting your head against his chest in your sleep. “i love you,” he whispered, lightly pressing his lips against your shoulder blade.

“just because we fucked doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. an i’m sorry and a couple thongs won’t fix what you said,” you muttered in your half asleep state. despite your words, you let him engulf you into his own version of a human blanket and entangle his limbs in every possible crevice.

“i know, i know. that’s why i sent the flowers too,” at the glare he’d grown so used to seeing directed his way, he decided to shut up, “okay, i’m sorry. i’ll try to show you better, i promise.” just being with you like this, holding you close against him was enough to ease the pain he’d felt the last couple months.

your embrace allowed him to find his home again, a home that he wasn’t sure he wanted to give up again when morning came. “and if you still don’t want me, just let me love you, sweets. doesn’t matter if you never wanna see me again,” he whispered, noticing a faint smile on your lips. gone as quickly as it’d appeared.

maybe gojo satoru wasn’t such a hopeless man.

[rottingghosty]

The Ghostling of Space | DC X DP

i’m working on the next part of the realms pr au trust me i am but i got this tiktok my fyp and suddenly i’m thinking of a NEW au for dc x dp. video is at the end i came up with this at 2am (like usual) so there will be errors

prompt: Danny’s the Ancient of Space, he spends most of his time floating around space because he’s on a vacation by his council to enjoy his life as a baby ghostling and a young prince since he’s still too young to rule so he has someone as a regent (not sure who yet). So he’s just going around, passing various planets and solar system. He’s essentially swimming around because he looks more like a mer than a human.

Danny should’ve realized that someone was going to notice him at some point, he didn’t realize it’d be a few years after Clockwork had spat him out in this universe. He’d been enjoying his time witnessing the birth of stars, of nebulas being born and the death of a solar system. The universe he was in made his core thrum with life, he’s gotten to feed it heavily that it puts his main obsession on the back burner. He skims his finger tips through the stardust of a star that had been born, molding and shaping it until it joins its brethren to form a constellation for the planet he was curled around.

The planet had no life yet but he knew that would change one day, he could feel its core yawning and turning. It’d get its push once Life had the opportunity to focus on it and breathe into the core. He was balance, his essence seeping into the planet’s core as he does his part of aiding the formation of a baby solar system. His body twists as he swims languidly through the vaccum as he does flips and turns. Moving through space with his newly formed tail felt like he was in the ocean, the movement so naturally and freeing.

It’d been when he finally drifted away from it and towards the Earth that was so similar to his back in his own universe he could never return that someone picked up his presence.

It’d been when he finally shrunk from his rather large size to something relatively smaller as he curled around a moon near Uranus. Away from any prying eyes as he allows himself to drift off into sleep.

It’d take someone to had been looking at one of Uranus’ moons to realize that something was curled around one, something large and green.

Captain Marvel could only stare in awe at the figure that curled around one of the moon’s of Uranus. The figure was beautiful, pale green skin that seemed to glow before dimming and brightening again. They seemed eel like if the way they seemed to move their body to curl around the moon of Titania. Where legs would have started, instead goes into an void of darkness, with a green glow that was a sickeningly shade of bright green that dimmed and brightened.

It was beautiful as it was eerie. The glow seemed to start from the hips and continued down its sides and tail, the fins flaring every time the creature seemed to breathe. A fin from at the top of the spine and continued down the entire back until it reached a stop before the end of its tail.

Captain Marvel knew that the other members in the Justice League were in awe just as he is, something about this being screamed otherworldly. It screamed magic and it made him very being thrum with energy he’s never felt before. He wanted to say something, to speak about what would be the best course of action to take to see if this being was a friendly or a hostile. Before he could even say a word, Constantine released a curse.

“Why is there a bloody baby ghost of the Infinite Realms here?”

TLDR: danny is very much a baby ghost prince living his life watching everything in space and making new things. he’s basically the equivalent of a baby god playing toys (planets and solar systems) and has no idea that he’s giving the JL and JLD a heart attack because oh my god that’s a baby ghost. but also OH MY GOD THAT’S THE BABY GHOST OF THE HIGH KING. still unsure who takes on the role for danny, pandora? cw? frostbite? a random oc? i know people use jazz as a regent but shes like a teen and deserves to live her life without having to deal with ghostly duties.

now danny’s got these people wanting to care for him cause he’s just out in the open in space and they don’t want the high king to get upset if their son is hurt.

(clockwork finds it very funny because if anything, they have to worry about upsetting anyone who danny deems as his)

[thebusybumblebee]

You Thought You Were So Clever

You'd heard whispers of great riches for those willing to take the risk. Make the right deal with the fae in the forests, and one could walk away set for life. You go when the sun starts to dip just below the horizon. Summer heat is just cooling down. A pleasant breeze kisses your face. Fireflies are already bobbing between bushes and branches. There's so many despite the season coming to a close soon. In fact, there are almost too many. They surround you, the bio-luminescent bugs creating a trail for you to follow. The trails turn and twist deeper and deeper into the woods. The sky grows darker, the air colder. When you're finally in a clearing, even the breeze has stopped. The fireflies disappear, leaving only the moonlight for the shadows to flicker in. Silence is all-consuming. The ringing in your ears grows until you think you might turn tail and give up this venture. "My, my," a voice whispers on the wind. "It's been so long since we've had a visitor." You turn this way and that, straining to find the source of the voice. Another voice, closer, muses, "much too long. Poor little lamb seems lost." Before you can think better of it, you call out, "I came to make a deal." A cacophony of sounds pick up with the sudden return of the winds. You cover your ears trying to block it out. The wind settles in one final gasp. You open your eyes. What was an empty, dark clearing has been transformed. You find yourself in the midst of a party. Lanterns are strung from the trees. Fae are dancing and mingling by fires. In the center, there is a table heavy with food and drink. It's a miracle the legs aren't bowing under the weight of it all. A fae, tall and lithe, strides over. "Welcome, little lamb." You begin again about deals and bargains. "Hush," they coo. Their nails trace up your neck until they hold your chin. "We've so missed having a human to entertain us. In exchange for your company, we will send you off with more gold and riches than you can walk away with just as soon as the feast is over." You nod. It's a simple deal: spend time with the fae and you'd be made. The fae smiles wide and leads you to a seat. The chair is sturdy, lavish even. A golden plate is pressed into your hand. All kinds of food fill the surface. You can't quite recognize some of it, but you're tantalized all the same. Fruit juices coat your mouth, the flavor blooming across your tongue. Hot, yeasty rolls in butter help sop up the many sauces you try. Bread pudding and liquor cut some of the savory flavors before you return to the cuts of meat laid out for you to try. Fae-folk flit in and out of conversation. They're charming and polite, always smiling and refilling your plate and cup. You can't say how much time has passed or how long you've been at the table. There's a point where everything seems warmer. Sweat drips down your face. Why were you breathing so heavily? You pull at your shirt collar to try and loosen it. The fae simply disrobe you. "It's a party," they say. "Don't think so hard." So you don't. You must get tired at some point too, because it's getting harder to lift your arms. It seems like it'd be hard to leave this seat, even if it is more cramped than you remember. You try to lean forward to grab your cup again. Though, try as you might, your fingertips can hardly reach it. The cup topples over. The clatter awakens you from your stupor. It’s as though a veil had suddenly been lifted.

Whatever cotton was dulling your senses can no longer hide what has happened to you. Your arms have plumped up like the hams on the table with fingers resembling sausages. Your hips must have spread across the seat too, because you can feel the arms of the chair gripping your love handles more surely than any lover ever has. You try to look down, but your thicker neck and double chin have to fight for space. A plumper chest greets you. The largest change was the heavy belly that crested beyond your knees. It was burgeoning with all the delicacies you’d been plied and stuffed with all evening. With a small hint of dread, you realize you’re still hungry.

“How long have I been here? When will this end?” You fret and try to rise from your seat. The fae that greeted you puts a hand to your belly. Their touch is appraising, paired with a gaze filled with a hunger of their own.

“It seems our lamb isn’t so little anymore,” they tease. Already, other fae start preparing more plates for their guest.

“When is the party over?” You ask again. You’re met with smirks and snickers all around.

“Oh, darling,” their voice drips with faux sympathy. “Here, in this realm, the party is never over.” You feel a cold chill down your back, but don’t fight the cup being brought to your lips again. As the spiced, warm cider flows down your throat, you find your thoughts flowing away too. The last realization you have is that any gold would be too much to walk away with when soon you won't be able to walk at all. You thought you were so clever.

[ttrpgcafe]

This reminds me about that one time Animal crossing tried to introduce desire paths to their game. The idea was that every square of grass had a health value that dropped every time you walked on it, and slowly, you'd whittle it away as you made frequent trips to your favorite villager's house, or the museum. It's a deeply cute, and deeply endearing idea that was, unfortunately, also very poorly implemented. You see, the grass never "healed" so while the initial appearance of a desire path *would* happen, given enough times and enough weeding\corner cutting\exploration, your entire village would be covered in dirt, with no grass left. The community backlash to the "feature" meant that it never got reimplemented in later games, and I think that's a real shame. I'm gonna give my suggestion for how it could be done in an interesting way below the cut, because this is already long, and I don't want to take up too much space on your feed.

My idea is to keep the "health" stat for grass, basically do exactly what they did, BUT with these additions: grass slowly heals itself, and every weed has a "healing field" around it. Maybe just the surrounding 8 squares, maybe more. Where those weeds' fields overlap, the healing stacks. There are two key parts to this strategy.

The first is that the healing happens the first day the weed spawns, so that you can safely weed them on the first day you spot them without stopping the healing process.

The second that is that the algorithm that generates weeds needs to prioritize spaces with "low health" . That way, the damage you do is being actively mitigated by the system.

In terms of numbers, I'd say that every step on a square reduces the health by 1, every piece of grass heals at a rate of 1 point per day, and health starts at 100. Once it hits 50, it becomes a dirt square, and the algorithm starts prioritizing that spot for weeds at 25. Each weed heals 10 points per day. That way, if you weed it on the first day, it definitely won't make the grass come back, but it only takes a couple of days for the grass to come back if you leave it. I would also like for villagers to do "damage" to the grass too.

If you have a path you really like and don't want the grass to grow back naturally, all you gotta do is pave it, then those squares will stop healing naturally, and their health will be set to 0. That removes the 1 point per day of passive healing, but if a weed spawns near it and the health gets back up to 50, you get grass poking up from the bottom of the cobblestones! You can pull the weed to stop this healing process after the grass grows back, but the grass won't go away again naturally until\unless you repave it. The cobblestones never go away though, so if you, say, pave a path then leave your game for a month or two, you'll probably come back to an overgrown path that you can clear again, but then the cobblestones will always have those little green blades of grass poking up from between them.

This might be too much, but I also kinda like the idea that if you pave near a tree, it might give that square a visual effect that looks like roots growing over\under those cobblestones.

That makes me think that I also want trees to have a healing field around them, but maybe only 5 points per day. That way you can plant them in specific places to keep desire paths from forming, but you can also chop them down if you'd rather it show up. It'll also stop a boring dirt path from forming around them when you harvest fruit trees and the like.

What do you think?

For funzies, I think I want rocks to stop healing in the 8 squares around them too. Might as well give another avenue for weathering. Destroying the rock will heal the area around it for 5 points though, because that way you can hunt for the gold rock without worrying about fucking up the grass.

Oh, and rainy days heal all grass for 5 points, but make everyone's steps deal 2 points of damage. Because reason helps the plants grow, but also makes the ground muddy and more likely to uproot the grass.

Winter pauses all healing, except around ever greens. Spring doubles the healing effect of everything except weeds. It does double the number of weeds generated though.

Things worn down by people.

[thatonebookg1rl]

Are we still friends? | Azriel x reader | Angst with good ending fic |

Summary; Your friendship of 400 years is ruined by a single kiss. And Azriel definitely hates you now. But you can't help but still feel deeply in love with him..

A/n: YAlll this took a day to write bc I have really long nails and I was fighting to type. Hope you enjoy it! ASKS ARE OPEN.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: allusions to sex, cussing (my fav word is fuck, can you tell?), little bit of angst, blood, azriel beats someone up, think that's it!

Azriel wasn’t here anymore. You’ve never felt so lonely before. It was like a demon possesed him to hate you. Were you that bad of a kisser?

Cauldron..how could kissing your bestfriend go so wrong? It was just the heat of the moment. And he kissed back. But now? It was as if he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you. You’d put money down on the idea he despises you. Were your lips chapped? Did your breath smell? Were you so ugly- the fact he kissed you disgusts him now? All the questions and no answers. And you were no way in hell gonna approach and ask him. He’d probably sprint away anyways.

You sat in the library, watching the clock signal it was three am. Before that night, you would’ve been with Azriel by 3 am. So many late nights you spent by his side, watching the stars and talking your hearts out. Sometimes it would be silent. You growled in frustration. How could a fucking 400 year old friendship be ruined by one kiss? Were you guys still friends? A million thoughts raced in your mind as you sit in the library. The memory of that night replaying a thousand times over, and you couldn’t stop the tears that escaped your eyes.

You washed the blood off of your hands in the dingy old sink. Azriel showered next to you. The mission Rhys had sent you two on was successful, but Azriel had used a lot of magic, leaving him tired. You found this old inn in the spring court. With the mission here, Azriel couldn’t teleport you both until he recovered more and he refused to leave you alone, so the hotel it was. It was a one bed hotel but it was nothing that phased either of you. 400 years together and you both knew each other too well to be shy about sharing a bed or nakedness. Okay..maybe you were. It was hard to hide your deep love for him. But he would never love you like that. You had watched him chase and pine over multiple girls over the years and every single time it was never you. At this point you felt like an idiot. Why couldn’t you get over him? Why?

“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice broke your train of thoughts. “Yeah.” You responded, turning off the old sink. He nodded, his eyes hard and distant. His hand reached out, clutching your cheek and rubbing off probably more blood. He knew you were too tired to take a full shower, so he grabbed a wash rag and wet it, wiping your face gently. You closed your eyes, enjoying his touch.

“Cmon, let's get you in bed. I don't need you freezing to death this winter.” He whispered, throwing the rag on the ground and leading you into the bedroom where you stripped from your dirty clothes. You faced the bed where Azriel climbed in, his eyes hard and staring unashamed at your body. You blushed, feeling heat rise in your body. He had never looked at you like this before. He licked his lips. You climbed in the bed, trying to cover up and get rid of his burning stare. A scarred hand grabbed your hip dragging you onto his lap effortlessly.

“Az-”

“Sh.. don’t ever cover yourself up. You’re breathtaking, y/n” He rasped. His eyes looked at your body, admiring and hungry. Then they landed on your lips. You grasped his face, feeling like you were burning under his touch. You needed him. Shadows danced around both of you as you bent down, finally kissing the man you have desired for centuries. He rumbled, hand grabbing your neck and keeping you there as his tongue darted in your mouth. You both fought for dominance but he won as he flipped you over, pinning you and kissing you like a starved man. You hand tugged on his hair and he growled playfully, nipping your lip.

Quickly as it started, it ended. He jerked away, terrified. He practically flew off the bed, panting. You sat up, naked and cold now he wasn’t on you and touching you.

“Azriel?” You called, confused. Did you do something wrong? He went from looking like he was in love with you to being disgusted. You reached for him- confused and hurt.

“Don’t.” He snapped, backing away. He walked to the door, stopping after opening it. He gulped, “This- ..this can never happen.” He said, voice cracking before he disappeared, leaving you alone in the bed. Alone in the cold inn.

The next day after that he teleported you both home silently before teleporting away again. Tears fell again. How did it all go so wrong? He practically started it! This wasn’t fair.

Hours pass by as you sit in the library, before you eventually fall asleep. When you wake, you find yourself in your bed. You don’t remember walking back here, but Rhys probably found you. He was like a brother to you, always caring for you. Bed rotting feels like the best thing to do today. If you go out for breakfast Azriel will be there. No. Fuck it. You’re not gonna let some immature, dickwad control your life! You stand and hastily dress yourself, getting ready for the day before making your way to where breakfast is held. You walk in, head held high as you greet Cassian kindly. Rhys is here too.

“Good morning, y/n.” He purrs, smirking at you as if he knows you're up to something. Or maybe he is. Nobody knows with him. Azriel is standing munching on an apple but when he hears Rhys greet you, he turns and leaves. Whatever, fuck him and his nice ass! You huff and sit down, the room silent now as you aggressively fill your plate up.

“Uhmm….everything good in paradise?” Cassian teases, scooting away wearily when you clutch your fork like a weapon. ”Yes everything is fucking lovely.” You reply, shoveling strawberries in your mouth. Rhys laughs, unbothered. He claps your shoulder, hugging you. “Everyone is going to Rita’s tonight, come with us, let loose. You and Azriel need to get over this weird thing.” He says, and Cass nods furiously in agreement. You huff and nod. All you could think was fuck Azriel. Fuck him. Fuck him..? You growled at your own thoughts and shook your head. No. You’d find a new guy. You were done pining over an asshole who didn’t appreciate you.

A few hours later

The skirt you're wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination. But nothing was hanging out..so whatever.? It clung to your skin as you ordered another shot, your top leaving a hefty amount of cleavage out. As the bartender handed you another drink, you gulped it down, handing the glass back to him. It was crowded tonight. The booth was full with Rhys, Feyre, Cass, Nesta, and Mor dancing. Azriel was beside Elain. You ignored him and the whistles as you waltzed back to Mor, dancing close to her as the music pounded your skull. You both giggled when a faerie man and female approached. Mor danced with the female, getting close and you took the male. It'd been forever since you had danced with a guy like this. He grasped your hips, chuckling as you turned and grinded with him to the music.

This male was nice. Handsome, tall, well built. But it felt wrong. And your eyes went back to Azriel who's eyes were pinned on you, standing straight with his wings spread. He looked pissed. His scarred hands were shaking and his teeth were barred. Elain attempted to grab his arm and jerked away as she burned him. His eyes never leave yours. You turned, feeling the anger of him hurting you. He had no right to be upset. You stared into this stranger's eyes you were dancing on, and he bent down kissing you and you returned it. You fought the urge to recoil back in disgust because- because he wasn’t Azriel.

Before you could move, the guy went flying. Literally. Azriel stood panting in front of you before turning towards the guy he had just flung like a mosquito. He started towards him again, his hand grasping his dagger. You chased after him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around.

“Azriel! What the ACTUAL fuck?!” You screamed. The whole club was watching. His eyes softened, looking hurt. “He k-kissed you” He stumbled over his words, looking like a kicked puppy. “Y-you didn’t like it. I could sense it. And his greasy hands were all over you!” He spat out. Wings spreading.

You growled taking a step forward. “You have no fucking right to try and control who kisses me and who doesn’t. You don’t get to ignore me for weeks on end and then only acknowledge me now!”

“You think I was ignoring you because I wanted to?! Fuck! I couldn’t even leave the damn house because all I wanted to do was grab you and never let you leave my arms. I've loved you for 400 years.” He choked out, getting closer. “But you deserve better then me. You deserve the whole world, not some bastard. And so I tried to distance myself. And goddammit I fucking couldn't. Since the day I’ve laid eyes on you I’ve laid awake at night thinking only of you. I can’t go a day without seeing you and not become bat-shit crazy. I need you. I need you y/n.” His voice cracked, and you felt tears in your eyes.

He gasped when you backhanded him so hard his vision went dark. Fuck he taught you to hit hard.

“You don’t get to choose what I deserve, Azriel. I deserve you.” You whispered before grabbing his face and pulling him into an earth shattering kiss. You couldn't distantly hear the crowd cheering as he wrapped himself around you, kissing you back. His wings created a perfect cocoon around you both as he pressed himself tight against you, his lips pressing intos yours roughly. He pulled back slightly. “I'm so sorry.” He whispered. You puffed. Before you could reply you fell into him in pain. Your heart is tugging roughly. Connecting to something. You heard him gasp as he held you tighter, a golden light emitting from both of you.

“My mate..I'm so sorry,” He cooed, eyes soft and scared. You looked up. Azriel was your mate. Yours.

“I suppose I’ll forgive you if you can make it up to me later.” You whispered suggestively, causing him to growl. His hands found your ass, smacking it. “Anything.” He promised. You found comfort in his arms and as you both flew back home, you knew you could forgive him eventually. But you’d never be friends again. No, you were mates now. And he was yours forever, as were you.

A/n: Tysm for reading! Hope you enjoyed. ASKS OPEN

[navybrat817]

Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Local Figure!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky didn't have a great day, so you help him unwind.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied sex, light fluff, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by an ask from @yenzys-lucky-charm, so I'm also submitting this for her Cranky, Grumpy, Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge (🗡️ A: Smoothing out the crease in Cranky’s frown while straddling their lap B: Cranky character melts, pulling them in for a kiss). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky tossed his jacket away and loosened his tie the moment the front door shut. In public, he had to maintain an image of confidence and controlled passion, carefully toeing the line between showing too much or too little emotion on the issues at hand. When things didn’t go his way, he couldn’t lash out or show defeat. Behind closed doors, he could allow himself to be a bit cranky. He didn’t have to put on a show.

With you, he didn’t have to put on a show either.

“Go sit, and I’ll make you a drink.” It wasn’t a suggestion. He didn’t drink often, but it was a rough day and you sensed that he needed one. If the drink wasn’t enough to help him unwind, you were sure you could think of something else.

Bucky kicked his shoes off before he took a seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Town Hall meeting should've gone off without a hitch, but Nick just had to show up and run his mouth.” His hands curled into fists when he grumbled, “Fucker.”

Bucky was never a fan of Nick Fowler. The man had a way with words and had experience, he’d give him that, but the guy wasn’t trustworthy. Too many secrets, too many people in his pocket. Some would say Bucky wasn’t trustworthy either since he was also a local figure, but he cared about his town and only wanted the best for everyone who lived there. He couldn’t say the same for Nick since he was only out for power and would step on anyone to gain it.

“It was rocky at times,” you said carefully, pouring him a glass of whiskey. Being overly optimistic would’ve been an insult, and he valued honesty since it was sometimes difficult to know who was telling the truth in his line of work. “But it ended on a high note.”

“He still proposed to cut funding for the library, and people agreed with him. It’s struggling as it is, and it needs the money,” he muttered, his steel eyes softening when you brought his drink over. “I swear he only proposed to cut funding to piss me off.”

Education was important to Bucky. The library, in particular, held a special place in his heart. It strived to create a welcoming and inclusive environment for the community, offering free resources to all. More than that, it was a space where history was preserved, and where people could feel valued and respected. It brought people together.

“And it’s working,” you pointed out, running your fingers through his soft caramel hair once you sat down and earning a sigh in response. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to let him get under your skin.”

Nick getting under Bucky’s skin meant he was losing, and Bucky wasn’t a man who lost.

“I’m trying,” he promised, taking another large sip and drawing your attention when he licked a drop from his lips.

You had to blink so you wouldn’t let his sexiness distract you from making him feel better. “Don’t forget, you have a fundraiser right around the corner,” you reminded him. There were people who would love to make a contribution to one of his passion projects, including the library.

His shoulders relaxed the more you played with his hair. “That’s true.”

“And listen, if I could get away with it, I’d wear my ‘I READ BANNED BOOKS’ shirt when I attend just to make you happy,” you teased.

That got a chuckle out of him. “That shirt got my attention.”

Going to that Town Hall meeting was one of the best decisions you ever made. “If you think that got your attention, wait until you see the dress I’m wearing.”

Closing his eyes with a groan, you had no doubt he was imagining it. He had an amazing suit picked out and you got something to not only match but something to drive him wild. “As long as John doesn’t show up and hit on you,” he tried to joke, but there was an edge to his voice.

As if the meeting wasn’t enough to put your man in a bad mood, bumping into John Walker after was the icing on the cake. If there was someone Bucky couldn’t stand more than Nick, it was John. The arrogant public worker rubbed him the wrong way, demanding respect and trust when he hadn’t earned it.

“We both know he wouldn’t stand a chance,” you said. Gorgeous looks aside, Bucky had you hooked from the beginning because of who he was. No one else could compare.

“If he tries anything…” Bucky could cut men down with a mere look, but people like Nick and John liked to push.

Taking the glass from his hand and setting it aside, you slowly straddled him. “You’re still cranky.”

“I’m not trying to be,” he whispered, resting his hands on your hips. Of course, he wasn’t. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to dwell in any unpleasant headspace or emotions.

“I know. You had a rough day, and you have every right to be cranky. But I also know that the smile I love is in there somewhere,” you smiled. Bringing your hands to his face, you smoothed out the creases in his frown. His body went lax beneath yours when you did it again. “I just need to find it… Ah! There it is.”

Something you loved about Bucky was that he smiled in different ways before his mouth moved. He did it with his eyes, something so warm and loving that only you could see. Some days you heard it in his voice, in the tone he used and the words he chose. Even the way his body relaxed with you was a smile, happiness blooming from his core.

And Bucky was smiling when he pulled you in for a kiss.

Your heart tried to beat right out of your chest when he hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Tasting the whiskey when his tongue slipped past your lips, you moaned. The kiss was full of hunger, eager to take what you were willing to give. There was a hint of desperation, like he was trying to use your mouth to chase his bad mood away. Above all, it was vulnerable, a side of himself he trusted you enough to show.

“You’re too good to me, sweetheart,” he whispered, rolling his hips up and making you moan again. “But I’m still a little cranky.”

“Is that right?” you smiled, rocking your hips teasingly just because you could. Making the powerful man hard made you feel powerful. “Are you proposing that I do something about that?”

The fingers on your waist flexed. “I’ll make it worth your while if you do.”

“Promises, promises,” you teased.

“I keep my promises,” he pointed out. In a world of liars and cheats, Bucky was a man of his word.

“That’s true.” You pretended to think about it when he thrust his hips up with a small growl, heating up your core more. “Okay, fine. Rest back so I can make the crankiness go away.”

And knowing Bucky, he’d make sure you felt nothing but bliss, too, before the night was over.

I know, lovlies, I don't need more AUs, but I would give him everything and more. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[skiagraphe0]

It should be noted that Ariel's dad is also abusive. He has one favorite kid and doesn't interact much with the others, he can go from calm to shouting so loudly you can barely hear Ariel pleading with him to calm down in a matter of seconds, he breaks all of her precious things in a fit of rage, and all of this isn't even because she's in danger right now and oh I guess I have to yell at my kid or something. No, the danger is passed, and what's more, she saved someone's life, and he's still furious at her. She isn't actively going to the surface right this second, she is guilty of watching a human and then ensuring he didn't die via drowning. Even if humans were all evil and hellbent on killing her, there's no reason to not only scream at her but to deliberately destroy the objects she loves most, things she's spent years collecting. That doesn't keep her safe, that punishes her for 1. being curious and 2. disobeying him, even to save a person's life, which, again, is the most understandable reason anyone could ever disobey their parents, ever.

Ariel didn't sell her voice just to go on land, it was also to get out of the sea, because the sea had in it a man who swore he loved her who was so cruel he'd destroy everything she loved in a fit of rage.

Even if you're straight and you don't relate to the queer subtext, we've all known someone with abusive parents, even if we don't have one ourselves. A 16 year old girl wanting to go somewhere where her abusive dad who's twice her size can't break her things, try to lock her up and shout over her? That's not about "oh that boy is hot". That's about "I deserve better than this".

When she says "betcha on land they understand, bet they don't reprimand their daughters", it should be very clear to the audience that she's not just into some dude. She's seeking freedom.

Remember: it was Triton's fury that came right before she decided to make a deal with Ursula, not her interaction with Eric. She doesn't go straight from rescuing Eric to sell her voice. It's not even mentioned as a possibility until after King Triton has his meltdown and breaks everything she loves most.

"Ariel sold her voice for legs just for some guy!" DID WE WATCH THE SAME MOVIE?!

Ariel sold her voice for legs for a chance to get away from the emotional and psychological abuser who had been constantly screaming at her for 16 years. Ariel sold her voice for legs for freedom and dignity and respect and the ability to be with people who don't scare her or berate her. Eric wasn't the problem. King Triton was.

All she wanted was to be somewhere someone who said he loved her wouldn't leave her sobbing on the floor and if your takeaway from that is "she must've been horny for Eric" then that says a lot about how much you're willing to think of King Triton's actions as acceptable and fine.

She, fortunately, knows better. She wants to be where "they don't reprimand their daughters". Ariel knows she doesn't deserve this. This is not okay.

I know calling takes you disagree with media illiteracy is practically a meme at this point but... yeah, if you saw this and went, "this is so normal I can't imagine it impacting this teenager's decision-making or feelings", media illiterate is the kindest thing I could call you, honestly.

“Ariel sold her voice for legs just because of a guy“

Meanwhile Ariel with legs;

Ariel already loved the human world long before meeting Eric (you don’t get a collection like hers overnight) and when she finally got a chance to explore it, she took it.

Ursula made it more about Eric than Ariel ever did.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Clone Danny Fenton amuses me so here's another dumb crossover idea: Danny is one of the "failed" clones of Kon that Tim tried to make, but clockwork snatched his lifeless baby corpse before Tim could dispose of it (Tim just assumed he did when it disappeared, writing it off as he did it while too sleep deprived to remember clearly or something) and CW uses the pit to revive it before dropping him off with the Fentons in a completely different dimension.

Danny knows he's adopted and realizes he's not normal fairly early on, but doesn't manifest the more noticeable of his powers til after his accident, so he blames it all on his halfa status and not the alien heritage he has no way of knowing about. Once shit hits the fan and his dimension is no longer safe for him to live in, CW sits him down and explains both his alien (in more ways than one) and clone statuses. CW then offers Danny the chance to meet his maker and template, which Danny agrees to because why not? He's got nothing to lose. Danny's injured 16 y/o ass is then dropped a short distance from a timberkon (who are now in their early 30s because that'd how time works) date/hangout and Danny just plops himself at their table and steals some of Tim and Kon's food before literally any words are exchanged.

Kon, freaking out because this kid looks like him???: Uhhhh??? Kid??

Tim, bewildered: Who?? What?? Kid, wtf??? Do we know you??

Danny, swallowing his mouthful of stolen food: Yes and no.

Danny, points lazily at Tim: Creator.

Danny, equally lazy point to Kon: Template.

Danny, blinking slowly at Bernard: I don't think you had anything to do with HOW I'm here, but as you clearly are part of this now, surprise, it's a scientific freak of nature.

Danny, ignoring the devastated looks on his "parents'" faces and steals more food while continuing: He/him pronouns and I go by Danny. AND ONLY Danny, not Daniel, not Danno, and certainly not Dan.

Tim, slowly takes a deep breath and slides most of his meal towards the clearly starving child: Danny... You're NOT a freak, kiddo

Danny, seems to beam without changing his expression when he's got the food in his hands before processing how his comment must have sounded without context: Oh-ho! But I am! Finding out I was a half human alien clone was just the icing on the cake, really! I had an accident that I'm pretty sure destroyed all my flimsy human dna. I'm now half something else, that hilariously has a lot of crossover powers so I just assumed my accident gave me all of them before the dude that cradle robbed my dead baby corpse from the evil mastermind lab my creator.. has? Had? Meh. Who cares. But baby me was very dead and then he did something and I wasn't. This is where I inform you I grew up in a different dimension and know jack shit about this one.

Bernard: Okay, I have so many questions

Kon: Me too! What's your other half? What's your dimension like? Why did you seek us out now? What's your favourite colour? Any food restrictions? Do you have a place to stay? Why is your heart rate so slow? What's that buzzing sound coming from your chest? What-

Tim: KON! Let the kid actually tell you answers!

Bernard, sliding some of his food over to Danny while eyeing the subtily stiff way Danny is moving: Plus, the more pressing question is, how hurt are you, Danny?

Kon: You're HURT???

Danny, frowns at Bernard ratting him out before turning his attention back to the food in front of him: I got vivisected, it's fine, it's healing

The adults all suck in a sharp breath before sharing a look. They agree this is their kid now and people can take him from them over their cold dead bodies.

Danny feels 3 shiny new parental bonds snap into place, startling the shit out of him. He didn't think they'd want him tbh, AND he didn't think they'd have enough ectoplasum to even do a claiming like that. He nearly starts crying, BECAUSE THESE PEOPLE WANT HIM.

Tim, concerned: Danny? What's wrong?

Danny, blinking wetly: You're liminals?

Bernard: "Liminals"?

Danny: Human with ectoplasum in their system. I just.. you want me?

Kon, sacrificing what's left of his food to Danny: I don't know what that means. AND of course we want you. You're family now.

Tim, nodding: There's no escape.

The adults all giggles, thinking of different situations with supers or bats or both. It only lasts a second because Danny bursts into tears, just completely overwhelmed by the situation. The adults instinctively get closer, but don't touch, unsure if it would help or worsen Danny's state.

Tim: Danny?

Kon: Would you like a hug-oof!

Danny dives into Kon's side and desperately clings to him with enough force to break a human's ribs. Tim and Bernard crowd closer and rub his back in soothing motions.

Bernard: What's wrong, kiddo?

Danny: Dani should have been here too!

Tim: Danny? I thought your name was Dani?

Danny: She was Dani with one n and an I. I'm Danny with two n's and a y. She- She was my clone, but...

Bernard: You don't have to tell us

Danny: ...She wasn't super stable. I'd help her restabilize every time she started to destabilize, but... but I got caught! She came for help and got caught too! I watched her melt in that shitty lab! There was so much- I wanted- SHE'S GONE!

The adults are devastated. Kon squeezes Danny tightly.

Kon, softly: tell us about her?

And so Danny does. Explaining how she came to be, their first interactions, her strong and independent personality, the little souvenirs she brought him while she traveled to figure herself out, how her condition always worried him, but she wouldn't-couldn't stay with him, and how he wanted to talk about finding her a new name because she deserved to have her own name, not something that reminds her she's a defective clone, but he never got the chance. He has a messy breakdown while explaining her final moments and how his bindings, power suppression cuffs chained to the floor and a muzzle, prevented him from giving her comfort and how SHE apologized to HIM. He thought he was going to die with her in that moment, his core cracking at her loss.

This leads to a short explanation of his ghost biology and how dangerous a cracked core is. And by then, he's flagging, so the adults start persuading the kid to crash in their guest room, with the promise of dinner.

Thus begins the process of timberkon convincing Danny to stay with them. Teaching the kid about his original dimension and the many heroes. They get him so MANY books about space and alien civilizations once they find out his obsession (literally) with that kind of thing. Danny still misses his sisters and friends like an amputated arm, but he slowly rebuilds, letting himself gain a new family and new friends.

His introduction to both the Bats and Supers could have gone better.

He's suspicious and wary of Clark the whole time he was meeting the Kents because of how Clark has treated his own clones in the past. Danny doesn't understand him, and Clark doesn't truly understand, but is more sad than anything about it and accepts he made his bed, now he must lay in it. He warms up to the rest fairly quickly. He's also introduced to Bizarro and Clara eventually and that goes well.

With the Bats, Danny, Bruce, and Dick verbally pace around each other. Bruce deep throating his foot, and Dick not being much better while trying to keep the peace. The rest watch on with amusement before the show is a cut short by Damian of all people intervening. The problem is Damian snuck up behind (unintentionally), grabbed his shoulder while calling Danny "Daniel" (something he was informed to NOT do), and Danny's brain went "VLAD FOUND ME??" (despite there being no way, CW will not let him find Danny) and reacts with violence. Damian barely escaped having any broken bones, that being said, where Danny grabbed to literally throw Damian has DEEP bruising, that arm was dislocated, he has more bruising from hitting the floor, and gained a concussion. Danny apologizing profusely while scolding this 28 y/o man about sneaking up on him AND using a name he specifically told everyone NOT to use. Damian is man enough to apologize while Alfred patches him up. Meeting Duke and Cass is nice, he's unsure about Steph (because how rambunctious she is) and Alfred, Barbara makes him homesick for Jazz, and Jason is funny til he gets a heart attack in the form of Danny offering to eat the corrupt ectoplasum (Lazarus waters) out of him. There's chaos after that, but it eventually calms down, especially since timberkon are protective of their baby and Tim looks like he's about to go super villain on them the moment "tests" are brought up. Danny is embarrassed and pleased as his Creator (he never stops calling jokingly calling Tim that, Kon gets Template, and Bernard is Human, when they aren't just called their name. Eventually he calls them all dad, though Bernard is sometimes called mom) threatens to ruin their everything if they continue. Threats they take seriously because they know Tim will follow through. After that it goes well.