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jiminjamms · 1 year ago

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sex therapy :: 22. little dark age

chapter tags/warnings: megumi is very mean but he's very uwu in the end. dad! toji. angsty! megumi. family drama. mentions of death. classism. strong language.

word count: 4.2k

notes: despite my long hours at work and the word count, I finished this update at a speed that impressed myself! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

The next morning, you woke up alone in Toji’s bed.

Sunlight filtered into the room through the lace curtains, the brash beams softened into a gentle glow, a cinnamon and honeysuckle candle flickering in the corner.

While you could be disappointed that Toji’s warm presence was not beside you, this was your chance to stretch out on the mattress and rub at your eyes, feeling the crisp sheets against your skin.

With your mind growing more alert, memories from last night made their way back into your mind: how Toji touched you, kissed you, fucked you, made you feel so sexy. Only he could make you feel like he was the luckiest man alive. That you were the only girl in the world.

Like an idiot, you curled into a smiling and giggling ball, kicking your feet in a flustered bout.

Even with six months of marriage under your belt, it was actually…weird, to remember sex as something enjoyable and fun, rather than an obligatory action.

Sure, Toji might view last night as normal given his abundant sexual endeavors in the past. But this was totally a different thing for you. Naoya had never bothered with ‘unnecessary acts’ like aftercare, after all.

Hell, he could not even care to look at you most nights.

Several weeks back, you would have been racked with guilt.

However, you have recently discovered a renewed sense of self-worth, a belief in your own agency and right to pursue happiness outside your tattered marriage. This was the realization that, if Naoya Zenin could feel like he could do whatever he wanted, you could too.

You could do better.

Toji had said so himself.

Not to mention, with Toji, you were heard.

You were understood.

With him, you were special.

Keeping these thoughts in mind, you practically hopped toward the bathroom and washed up, then skipped down to the lower level to search for him. Looking for him didn’t take long when the kitchen bustled the sounds of cupboards being opened then closed, the clatter of metal forks against porcelain plates.

You rushed in that direction, unconsciously smiling at how thoughtful Toji was to be preparing breakfast. He must be anticipating you to be awake soon (and how surprised he would be to see that you had risen from your slumber already!).

So you can imagine how disappointed you were when you turned into the kitchen doorway, ready to implode from giddiness, and Toji was not the person you saw.

Rather, you found Toji’s son.

Megumi did not even notice you at first.

He leaned over the kitchen island, his upper body shifted onto the one forearm that rested casually on the counter’s surface, his free hand swiping at his phone. His gaze was locked onto the device which was why he had not sensed your presence, instead occupied with reading his friends’ texts and chuckling to himself as he scrolled through the messages.

Megumi looked like a completely different person now that he wasn’t clearly pissed off.

The contrast was like night and day.

His morning appearance was remarkably neat. With the abundant lighting, his tall and fair features became clear, with sparkling dark eyes that glimmered like the evening sky. He had taken off his rings and been wrapped snugly in a baggy brown pajama set.

For once, he looked…soft and sweet, and when he laughed heartily at his screen, everything in his smile was a reminder that this young man was nothing but a kid in the end.

Briefly, you did not want to believe that this was the same anguished teenager you had encountered last night. All over, you searched for one singular flaw. A loose strand. A crack in his lips. A budding, rosy pimple. But, with Megumi, there was nothing.

How could this possibly be the same person who accused you of being a demon, who lashed at his father for thinking with his dick rather than his head? As you wondered how your plain presence could turn such an innocent boy into someone filled with contempt, your heart filled with chagrin.

“Yuuji, this bumbling idiot,” he snickered quietly at a video from his friends. As he pressed replay, he brutally stabbed an apple slice with his fork and popped that bit into his mouth. “If your older brother hasn’t already, Nobara is definitely going to whoop your ass.”

Still chuckling, he shifted his weight, leaning from one arm to another, and that…was when he spotted you.

Quickly, his grin fell flat.

“Oh,” you heard him mumble.

Even a half-brained goldfish could tell Megumi was horribly disappointed to see you here. He straightened up a bit, chalking up the invisible and seemingly impenetrable wall that you recognized from last night.

Megumi didn’t want to smile. He didn’t want to be your friend. For all he cared, you only stopped by for a few hours in his life, and he had no obligation or expectations to ever see you again.

So, with that, the atmosphere became thick and awkward.

Horribly awkward.

“H-Hey,” you uttered, unsure of what else to say as the gloomy teenager turned around toward the refrigerator and effectively ignored your presence.

He did a terrific job in avoiding your gaze as he reached for an orange juice carton and a new glass, pouring himself a drink in silence once he returned to the kitchen island. Since you were older, you shouldn't feel humiliated by how you were being treated like a fly on the wall by an eighteen-year-old.

Yet, you were.

Megumi made you feel irrelevant and insignificant, as though all idiosyncrasies that made you feel helpless in your marriage came to haunt you through him.

He could hardly bother to glance in your direction even as he downed his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did. Then, once his glass sat empty, he treated himself to another cup.

All in silence.

When Megumi finally decided that, fine, he could not simply pretend you didn’t exist forever, he turned to face you and asked, “Why are you still here?”

The question caught you unprepared, leaving you frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

Although Megumi didn’t roll his eyes on the spot (which probably demanded great self-control from himself), he leveled a piercing stare that bore right into yours. For a moment, his looks resembled his father’s greatly, but the intensity in his indigo eyes was nearly palpable, like a spear that grazed along your throat.

Instantly, your mouth dried at the scrutiny, his look disapproving and judgeful.

Perhaps you should head to the water cooler, hoping to rehydrate yourself and avoid his direct line of sight in the process. He left you unsettled with how he examined you with narrowed eyes, likely sending death wishes your way.

“I’m here because—”

You paused.

Here because your father and I fucked last night in the bathroom two doors down from you.

No. In times like these, honesty was not the best policy. Knowing this, you felt more exposed than ever in Megumi’s presence and tugged at your shirt collar to cover the dark marks on your neck, but the teenager had already seen them all.

“Unbelievable,” he scoffed, his eyelid twitching with irritation.

Megumi slammed his glass down in exasperation (which, to your amazement, did not shatter despite the force), and he stormed into the next room over.

His signs were clear that he would rather not spend another minute talking to you, but you persistently trailed behind him. There was still a lot to understand about him. At the very least, you would like to sort things out.

On the other hand, he wanted to avoid all that, escaping into the library. Even with your goal for conversation, you had to slow down in awe to admire the newly discovered space. A grand brick fireplace occupied the wall opposite the entrance, a magnificent woodblock painting hanging above the mantel as plush beanbag chairs encircled the hearth. Shelves crafted from dark cherry wood lined the rest of the vicinity's perimeter, showcasing not only an impressive literary collection but also antique figurines and framed family photos.

“Leave me alone,” Megumi deadpanned amidst your amazement. "My dad's busy on a call in his home office upstairs, but that doesn't mean you should be following me now."

He could never let up on you, could he?

“Well, no one ever said I was following you.”

“Yes, you totally are. Why else are you tailing me here?”

You shrugged. “Because this is a nice apartment, and I’m just exploring.”

“Well, I’m sure you live in a very nice place too, given who your husband is.”

A small part of you was still amazed at how publicized your life was given your ties to the Zenin Corporation’s CEO, but you had been growing accustomed to the attention in recent weeks.

“I like the aesthetics here, though. Drawing inspiration for my own place.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled in finality but did not miss how you stopped at one particular framed photo. Immediately, he rushed to your side, the proximity introducing you to his grapefruit fragrance that was accompanied by ambery cedar notes. Forcefully, he swung his sleeve in front of your face and hampered your view. “Nuh-uh! Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not being nosy!” you protested. “That was your baby picture—”

“Yes, exactly. So, you are nosy,” said a Megumi trying to hide his embarrassment. “You’re a dreadfully nosy, horribly pushy, and appallingly insistent old snooper.”

“Old snooper?!”

Sure, you weren’t a high schooler anymore, but that didn’t mean you were old.

“Control yourself,” Megumi went on, ignoring how offended you have become. “You’re victimizing us all.”

While Megumi’s original mission was to slink away and enjoy his personal space, he now decided that he had to monitor your every movement instead, worried about what other awfully cute childhood photos you might come across if left alone. Knowing there was no use in arguing with a stubborn teenager, you took your gaze away from the photos and spotted a large maroon pennant plastered above the doorway.

“Oh, Harvard?” you asked,

“Yes, my dad completed his college degree there. Double major in economics in psychology,” he stated matter-of-factly, not that you were surprised. “That, and I’ll be starting school there this fall.”

“Oh, congratulations!" you praised (and questioned why Harvard would accept a cynic like him) before using this chance to make some meaningful conversation. "My husband also went to school in the United States as well. He could give advice about starting university in a foreign country. He went to—”

“Yes, Yale.”

Wow. Just how many hours did Megumi Fushiguro spend on Naoya Zenin's Wikipedia page? Obsessed much.

Creepy, even.

“Well, look who’s the snooper now,” you teased the boy, jokingly pointing out how he seemed to know more about you than you knew about him.

But perhaps, that was a terrible idea.

Megumi stopped, falling quiet as he turned back slowly to face you. His lips were pressed, as though he internally debated what charged and hateful thing to say next.

How dare you involve yourself in his matters? How dare you use his words against him? Arrogance was never a classy trait. So, how dare you challenge Megumi, an incoming freshman at one of the best universities in the world, while you were a sidepiece in Japan’s aristocracy.

You braced yourself, expecting a barrage of insults, until he asked, “Are you feeling better since yesterday night?”

Caught off guard, you froze, not sure if you heard him right.

Meanwhile, Megumi did not meet your gaze. He almost appeared ashamed to do so, regarding the nearby bookshelf instead, his long fingers running over the wooden engravings.

The room, once filled with apprehension, now held a rare glimmer—a shred of kindness that left you realizing how complex the teenager was.

To respect his space, you stayed put from where you stood, the library growing quiet while waiting for your answer.

“I am better, thank you for asking.”

While Megumi tilted his chin forward in thought, he still did not glance your way. He stayed silent for a long while, sucking on his teeth.

“Sorry,” the boy spoke up again. With his head hung low, he took in a deep breath through his nostrils before admitting, “I know I'm a complete asshole sometimes.”

This, naturally, was the last thing expected from the younger Fushiguro. Observing him from your position, you noticed how his features softened as he thumbed through the shelved pages of one book.

Was this real?

Five minutes ago, this was Angsty Megumi. The don’t-bother-me Megumi. The hated-your-fucking-guts Megumi.

Yet suddenly, he began apologizing. While Toji presumably had some influence in bringing about this change, Megumi appeared to mean what he said given his idle fidgeting.

The easier—and frankly, more childish—comeback was to make a scene and accuse him back. After all, Megumi’s slander and actions had torn a hundred gashes at your fragile heart, but you knew better than to hold grudges at your age. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Another silence, this break twice as long as the last. He continued to drill his stare into something far less interesting, but only because he seemed hesitant to speak more. His lips parted and then closed as he visibly fought with himself regarding his next words.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you, though.”

Oh. Just when you thought you advanced two steps ahead, you had merely been circling around square one. Right, you should have expected that because this was only the first time you two were holding some semblance of a civil dialogue. But, despite all this internal rationalization, that didn’t make your disappointment any less.

“That…is fair,” you replied, trying to mask the rejection in your tone though the defeatedness still bled through.

“Look,” Megumi started quietly.

He sighed and ran a hand down his dark hair. When he finally turned to you again, gone was the outright scorn that once dwelled in his eyes, replaced by a countenance far more sad. His lips pursed into a strained line, his forehead marked with concern, and brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“I don’t know what your intentions are. Just…please don’t hurt my dad.”

Your chest tightened.

Megumi could judge you for all he wanted, but you felt unfairly blamed. He had said something similar last night. What could you—a young and inexperienced housewife to the Zenin family, yourself with no real power—possibly do to hurt Toji?

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The boy stared at his feet, rocking on his heels. “Dad’s been through a lot. All to protect me. But, as an unfortunate result, he had made several awful decisions in the past to the point I feel like I am the one watching out for him instead. Ever since my mother passed away, he had been a mess.”

Ever since his mother passed away.

While you were aware that Toji had an ongoing affair with ‘Tsumiki’s mom,’ you had not stopped before to think about Toji’s other past wife who must be Megumi’s mom, much less wrap your head around the possibility that the latter no longer existed in this world.

Not that you were to blame.

Toji, who preferred to keep many private matters to himself, didn’t mention his first wife in conversations before, her premature death being a likely reason.

This might be rude, but you had to ask, “What happened to your mother?”

Megumi had expected the question, putting on a front to seem tough and act as though the past didn’t bother him. Yet, pain flashed visibly across his face.

“Involved in an accident many years ago. She was an event coordinator and traveled to Canada to visit a vendor when she crossed an intersection, and then…”

He paused.

Even though you had an inkling about what he was to do next, adrenaline coursed through as Megumi raised his outstretched fingers and collided them to create the letter T.

“Boom. Gone.”

Your heart sank.

How come no one had ever mentioned this to you before?

While you could understand why Toji did not want to discuss this traumatic event, the other therapists never brought up their leader's tragic history either. Therefore, the realization wrecked you—to think about how a young woman’s life could vanish from an unpredictable freak accident, leaving behind a husband who could never tell his wife that he loved her one last time and a son who could never feel his mother’s tender affection again.

“That’s horrendous,” was the most appropriate reaction you could conjure to sum up your thousand thoughts. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”

Your voice trailed off.

Despite the time to process, you still didn’t know the proper verbiage. Only now were you scratching the surface regarding who Toji and Megumi Fushiguro truly were, and you could only wonder what else there was to know about them.

“Don’t say sorry to me.” Noticing your loss for words, Megumi had interjected. “I don’t remember much about my mom since I was seven when she passed, so not that I really care anyway.”

A lie. The teenager tried to seem unbothered, but his voice wavered. Even Megumi himself must have noticed how he began choking up a little, turning away to distract his sadness.

“My dad, though…” Megumi continued, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand the rest. “He truly loved my mom.” After propping his elbow against a nearby shelf, he rested his head on his palm and sighed. “He had given up everything just to be with her.”

Both warmth and sadness shone through like he was retelling a bittersweet story of star-crossed lovers—two people deeply in love yet destined to be apart.

“I see.”

“Dad has not been the same since,” the boy continued to explain. “He slept around a bunch and got charmed by some pretty lady. Blinded, my dad got married to her and life had been a living hell afterward—treated me like a bag of shit, spent all my dad’s money on her shopping sprees every weekend, and even neglected her own daughter—my stepsister—which forced my dad to raise her instead.” In the end, Megumi huffed loudly in exasperation and seethed in anger, his hands balled into fists that turned his knuckles white. “A fucking bitch.”

He’s talking about Tsumiki’s mom, you realized.

“They’ve gotten divorced, no?” you inquired, referring to Toji and his second wife.

“Thank all the Shinto gods, they did! About several months ago, yes. Would have taken their marriage certificate into my own hands if they hadn’t by now!” Megumi exclaimed, extending his hands out to rip an imaginary piece of paper for illustrative purposes. “That…That whore did my father really dirty during the years they were together. No, the craziest shit is that she continues to bother my dad all the fucking time.” Scoffing, he threw his arms into the air. “She’s got a new shiny boy toy, so why is she still trying to bother the ex-husband that she placed the divorce papers in front of?”

His eyes slid to observe you, as though he attempted to read through your thoughts or elicit some reaction. Therefore, when you did not, Megumi simply continued.

“I am this close,” he leaned forward, bringing his thumb and index closer just about together, “ this close to placing a restraining order on that lunatic. For my sake, for my stepsister Tsumiki’s sake, and for my father’s sake.” Then, he dropped his hands down in one long sigh. “Therefore, I hope you can understand why I have trust issues.”

With this newfound information, you finally understood why Megumi had been so hostile to you during your first few encounters with him. He had a good reason to be. With all these years gone by, he hadn’t seen anything good come out of his father’s escapades ever since his mother’s passing, and Megumi was desperate and determined to protect what he had left.

Like you, Megumi knew that Toji deserved none of this.

Toji did not deserve to agonize alone after his first wife’s untimely death, he did not deserve to be taken advantage of by his second wife who sought opportunity in his heart’s emptiness, and he did not deserve the suffering of having no one by his side to comfort him during these times.

Seriously, how could you possibly be complaining about bad sex to a man whose lowest lows tortured him far beyond your comprehension? Juxtaposing your therapist’s tragedy—from loss to grief to betrayal—against yours made your problems seem minuscule compared to the vast amount in his. Even though Toji suffered through many colossal heartaches, he still lived, smiled, and gave each day his all, living through the halcyon days of sunshine.

Meanwhile, Megumi stared at the ring that was already on your finger. “Are you going to marry my dad?"

Spit nearly catapulted past your mouth.

“What?” you blurted, dumbfounded.

“I don’t want another stepmother,” Megumi clarified, assuming that the answer to his question would be yes. “I just want a mother.” He crossed his arms and hugged himself, the loneliness evident in his orotund voice. “I…want to know what having a mom feels like again.”

You could feel and see, for the first time since you two met, the vulnerability that resided within Megumi. A side that would only come out whenever he thought about his childhood, which must have been filled with love, joy, and beautiful memories.

Seeing this made your heart tear with sympathy.

Because, in him, you saw a reflection of yourself.

“Back when I was in high school, my mother passed away after a long battle with kidney cancer,” you divulged, recognizing and validating his sorrow. "The immediate years after were extremely difficult for me because I had known my mother for so long in my life, and I sought a presence that could replace hers. My father, like yours, recognized my struggles and took it upon himself to fill my mother's shoes. Still, my mother cannot ever be replaced, and I similarly do not think I can completely substitute your mother either. But there is one thing for you to know: that my very last goal would be to hurt you and those you care about, Megumi.”

Words, you knew, did have the capabilities to mend the rift alone, so you took slow steps toward him. In the closed distance, the desolation in his eyes became more vivid, the ever-present struggle between his confused emotions and the barriers he fortified to protect himself and those he loved.

Without saying more, you tugged at his arm and pulled him into an embrace.

Beneath your hands, you could feel his shock.

He resisted at first, a subtle rigidity in his frame.

Gradually, however, those tense muscles in his body softened as he sunk in the warmth you provided him. His shoulders seemed to lower along with his guard, and he leaned into the hug. Not every issue may have been resolved, but at that moment, you found a common ground with Megumi that replaced the once-charged disagreements with a consolation transcending words.

“I only know a small part of your story, but I want to be here for you,” you whispered, voice a soothing murmur.

Megumi did not respond immediately, but his grip on your shirt tightened as if acknowledging the shared vulnerability. There was warmth from his body that assuaged your broken and throbbing heart, and with great sincerity, you hoped that he could at least get the same comfort from you. Like a little child, he rested his head by your neck and let out a deep breath.

“Thank you for talking to me.”

With a sad smile, you patted his back. “Of course.”

Even the room seemed to exhale in relief, releasing the lingering tension that had gripped the vicinity.

The peace and serenity were only interrupted when a holler thundered from the upper floor.

“Boy!” Toji, who must be done with his call now, boomed. “I told you to clean the bathroom, already! Mopping and scrubbing today!”

Megumi groaned at the command and peeled away from your touch. “I’m going to do that soon!” he shouted into the void, hoping that his voice somehow made its way back to his father.

“That’s what you said an hour ago!”

“Okay, yeah, he’s right,” Megumi conceded, huffing. He stepped back, a faint blush dusting across his pale cheeks.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just some chores to do. Sorry.”

Toji must be lucky to have such a good son like him.

“No worries.”

With Megumi rushing out to obey his father’s commands, you found the library now all yours. You were smiling ear to ear, your entire body much lighter now that you had resolved many misunderstandings with Megumi. As you waited for his return, you scanned the room in search of something to help you pass the time, your gaze fell upon the Harvard pennant again, this time also noticing the framed document that hung beneath the banner.

“What is this?” you mumbled to yourself.

Yes, as Megumi had pointed out about you earlier, you were incredibly ‘nosy.’ In your defense, this was your chance to learn more about the Fushiguros, a family whose past you just began to uncover through the conversations earlier.

Besides, what harm could be done from just some innocent curiosity?

You approached the piece slowly, unable to comprehend the English print quickly when your first language was Japanese. Yet, with just enough foreign language reading skills, you figured that this document was in fact a Harvard University diploma. Impressed, you admired the gold embossed letters, the university's iconic emblem, and the dark ink that conferred the degree to…

Toji…Zenin.

What?

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: We have officially hit the turning point in this fic! The reason I enjoyed writing this chapter so much was how many topics and emotions were explored. While our hot therapists didn't take the spotlight, we got a chance to explore our very elusive Megumi.

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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jrow · 6 months ago

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May Prompt (18)

Day 17 here. Start at the beginning here. Day 19 here.

Blanket

The blanket looks absolutely ridiculous.

She pulls it tighter around her shoulders and looks around anxiously. She has a part to play and she’s playing it well. He expected no less.

He sighs. It’s time to play his part in this charade so they can get the hell out of here.

“Darling,” he says, tucking his umbrella under his arms as runs towards the ambulance, knitting his brow to show his concern. “I came as soon as I could. How are you?”

They make eye contact and for a split second he can see how amused she is at his display. But then the mask returns and she looks on the verge of tears.

“I am okay, love,” she says shakily. “It was awful. That poor man. I just want to go home.” She turns to the paramedic whose standing off to the side, pretending not to eavesdrop. “Can I go?”

The man looks back sympathetically. “As long as you won’t be alone. The police will call if they have any questions about your statement. You have the card for the trauma counseler?”

“Yes, thank you,” she says. She sounds so damn genuine.

“Let’s go,” he says with a nod to the paramedic. Right now it’s just the paramedics and one constable on the scene. They need to get out of here before someone arrives that would actually recognize him.

He wraps his arm around her and she leans into his chest as they walk. She’s also gently stroking the atrocious orange blanket draped over her shoulder as if it’s keeping her tethered.

“Calling an ambulance for a man that had bred dead for, how long?” He asks once they are out of earshot.

“At least 6 hours,” she replies, her voice back to its usual strength. She continues leaning into him, although the stroking has stopped. Who knows if someone is watching their retreat. “Calling in the cavalry was an unfortunate necessity.”

“Someone caught you placing the body,” he says. It isn’t a guess.

“Yes. Restaurant owner taking out the trash. I was almost done too.” She sighs. “It was easy enough to feign that I just happened on the body and was traumatized. It was in a sorry state.”

“When did you actually happen on the body?”

She looks up at . “An hour ago. Agent H reported Larkin hadn’t been seen or heard from in several hours. So, I paid him a visit.” She wrinkles her nose. “There were rats. It was disgusting.”

“Overdose, I take it?”

“I think so.”

“And the move?”

“H got word Larkin’s girlfriend got off work early. Takes her between 28 and 34 minutes to get home on an average day. H thought the search would be faster without Larkin in the flat. Plus, it buys us a bit of time before people figure out Larkin is dead.”

“I assume there will be no ID found on the body?”

They turn a corner and she immediately pulls away. “Of course not. What kind of amateur do you take me for?” she says with faux offence before tossing the shock blanket on the pavement. “Glad to be rid of that.” She pulls a mobile out of her pocket. “A gift. H’s team is already working on it but I know how you like to go through for yourself.”

He takes the phone and pockets it before opening the back door of the car waiting for them. “Thank you. After you,” he says, letting her enter the car first. “Any highlights?” He asks as he slides into the seat beside her.

“Larkin had never been hired for murder before agreeing to off Watson. At least not in the messages read so far. Never used injections before either. Usually he just makes threats or breaks a leg or two. Had several tire irons in the flat. Some ‘used’ so to speak. Explains why he bunged up the assassination attempt.” She leans her head back. “Still don’t have a name for who made the hire, but several messages note that Larkin owed him big favour. It’s a thread to follow.”

“Was there any pre-payment?”

“Some rings. Likely from one of the jewellery store thefts.” She pulls out her own mobile and looks at the screen. “Looks like they were from Boodles, which was hit a couple of weeks ago. There were 6 rings in the flat worth about 50 thousand pounds total. Bespoke pieces. Would be difficult to sell without being flagged unless you knew the right people.”

“Hmmm,” he says. Larkin didn’t know the right people. Maybe their jewel thief didn’t either.

The sit in silence for a moment. She closes her eyes as if relaxing, but she’s tapping her fingers on the leather between them.

“Will you be telling your brother?” She asks eventually. He bristles at the accusation in her tone despite the fact that it’s entirely warranted.

“No,” he says, brusquely. It’s the truth. None of this information would be particularly helpful at this stage anyways. But soon, they should have something more concrete on whoever hired Mr. Larkin. Even then, he won’t tell Sherlock anything.

John on the other hand …

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty

#johnlock #wip #may prompts 2024

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sinner-sunflower · 9 months ago

Text

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 10/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Yknow,

The more I think about it...

This is looking a lot more like an Infected AU.

P.S. already apologies for the Hamilton reference laksjdlksaj I couldn't help it.

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

Lucifer is having a hard time breathing.

Beyond the safety border is a sea of red flowers of a kind Lucifer has never seen before in his lifetime. They seem to have sprouted from the crawling roots.

The King of Hell would've even said it was beautiful- he would've been in awe what with the flowers shimmering under Sloth's source of light creating serene waves whose sounds can lull one to sleep.

He would have.. if it weren't for what's coming out of it.

A thick, black miasma is seeping its way out of the flowers' mouths causing the suffocating air in the previously cleanest place in all of hell.

Roo's presence is more prominent than ever. Belphegor and her people at the site are all wearing masks to protect themselves from the dark mist.

Belphegor's voice makes him come down from the skies.

Belphegor: Lucifer!

Lucifer: What is this?

Belphegor: Sloth lost power for an hour which we guess is Roo's doing. When it came back... all these flowers were here. Most inhaled a bit of the miasma but no immediate effects. We have required everyone to put on a mask to be sure. With the sudden onset of this presumably toxic air, evacuation to Lust is starting earlier than expected.

Lucifer: That's good.

Belphegor: The sealing ritual will start in a day or two. Satan wants to be sure there are no more surprises once we start.

Lucifer: He's right. t will just be a waste of time and resources.

Belphegor: ...Lucifer?

Lucifer: Hmm?

Belphegor: Will I lose your respect if I admit that I'm afraid?

Lucifer turns to his old friend (sibling, really), eyes growing soft.

Lucifer: As long as you won't lose yours for me.

Belphegor: You're afraid?

Lucifer: Yes. Just like I was when I rebelled against heaven. Or when I was made King of Hell. Or when Charlie was born. I'm as afraid now as I was before.

Belphegor: Oh..

Lucifer: Am I worth any less to you now?

Belphegor: No! Of course not! You will always be my, our, King. When you say jump, we ask how high. If you wish to go to war with Heaven, we shall ask when.

Lucifer smiles a bit. He was just teasing Belphegor. He and the Sins have endured Hell's greatest hardships together- he doesn't think he can lose respect for any of them if they tried.

Lucifer: Then there's my answer.

Belphegor: I- thank you.

Lucifer: I have to get going now. The sooner I find her, the sooner I can get back.

Belphegor: Are you sure that she will provide assistance for Hell's problems?

Lucifer: Let me worry about that.

Belphegor: Of course, do be careful on your journey, Lucifer.

Lucifer: Thanks, Bel.

Lucifer mimics opening a curtain to create a portal to the living world. He's about to go through when the Sin of Sloth calls his name once more.

Belphegor: Lucifer!

His sister gives him a deep bow. Murmurs around them spur as the people of Sloth have never seen their Prince act like this before. Lucifer can't blame them, it's not like he and the Sins ever interact in public. They don't know that Belphegor and the others always make sure to show Lucifer their loyalty to him.

Belphegor: I- we- have the greatest honor to be your obedient servant.

Lucifer looks around and sees that all the people have followed suit in bowing.

Lucifer: And I you.

And with that, he finally leaves Hell.

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

The moment Lucifer sets foot on Earth is a whiplash. It has been a while since he even ventured outside of Hell despite being allowed to- too guilty to leave because if the souls his actions had dammed to hell can't, then he too shouldn't-

He feels the cool breeze caress his face and play with his wings like a child would. There are birds up on the trees singing, fish in the nearby pond splashing, and then a few deers looking at him with curious eyes. Wow, Alastor's still following him.

Lucifer casts an invisibility spell on himself and prepares to fly. Once he was up in the sky, he took in one last appreciative look at the scene.

Lucifer: You've grown, Eden.

He says to no one and leaves.

A gust of strong winds suddenly blows through the forest below, causing the animals to sing their sounds along with the rustling leaves of the trees and grass.

If the fallen angel stayed a while longer, maybe he would've heard the wind utter a reply.

'We've missed you, dear angel.'

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

What to look forward to in Part 11:

Luci's thoughts as he travels around Earth.

The meetup

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chiefdirector · 8 months ago

Text

Planning | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

(Y/N) looked around the room, taking in the worried faces of her colleagues turned friends who had come at Tim’s request. Angela sat talking next to John, talking to both him and Nyla who stood next to the sofa. Lucy was sitting on the armchair with West leaning against the arm. Grey wasn’t there, (Y/N) knew that he couldn't be, but it hurt slightly to exclude the man, especially after all he had done for her.

She could feel her heart tug slightly at the sentiment that they had all agreed to come to help, even though it was a war Roaslind Dyer had decided to wage against the entire LAPD, he focus was on the officer in the Mid-Wilshire department, or at least they would be the start.

None of them knew what Tim had figured, but at his request, they had all decided to come of their own volition, to help both of the Bradford’s. People she had thought would brush her off and not accept her had all come with the intention to aid her the best she could.

Leaning against the doorway, (Y/N) watched as each and every one of her friends cast their eyes on Tim as he cleared his throat to bring their attention to him. “You all know why I asked you to come, mostly anyways…”

“What do you mean, ‘mostly’?” Nyla said, leaning forward in an almost defensive stance.

“What he means is that we have a development in the Dyer case.” (Y/N) stepped forward nudging Kojo away from her feet as she moved. She took a moment, as his hand wrapped around her own before she continued speaking. “We can’t operate at the station anymore.”

“Why not?” John asked gently, prompting either one of the Bradfords to continue.

Tim spoke up again. “Before you say that, we need to know if you're in or out. Because once we tell you, there is no going back, you will be liable for any and all actions. The LAPD won’t cover you.”

“The Hell you got into Bradford?” Nyla asked before taking a breath to stop a chain of expletives from falling from her tongue. “I mean I’m in but what the Hell is going on?”

Tim just nodded for a moment at Nyla’s words as the other cops in the room began to nod and verbalise their agreement. Angela stood as she agreed, wrapping (Y/N) in a hug as she whispered, “I’d follow you to the end of the earth. That’s what best friends are for.”

As Angela pulled away, she took (Y/N)’s hand from Tim, ignoring his small sound of offensive he let out as she dragged her back to the sofa. (Y/N) scoffed in amusement as Angela wedged her between her and John.

“So you’re all okay with this?” Tim clarified.

“Yes,” Nyla huffed, “Now get on with it. We don’t have all day, you know?”

Tim nodded as he put his hands in his hoodie’s pockets. “(Y/N) and I came to a realisation earlier today after she got back from the prison. It never made sense why (Y/N) was targeted by her, it wasn’t as if Dyer had a specific M.O which she fit, and it’s not like it was with Lucy…” He let his words trail off as he watched Chen’s reaction before continuing. “She had no reason except that she seemed like an easy target.”

“Target for what?” West asked.

“To get into the LAPD hivemind.” (Y/N) said, taking over from her husband. “She already had informants but they were all reluctant or vulnerable in some way. Sullivan was near retirement age, Armstrong had been made. Our guess is that she wanted to turn me into her newest pawn.”

“(Y/N), your old partner said this was about Tim. Then it was about you. They were trying to make us chase our tails.” Nyla spoke up again, moving closer to where the others were sitting. “Although, this still doesn't tell us what she intends to do.”

“The LAPD humiliated her, all of us in this room humiliated her. Someone like Rosalind Dyer isn’t the type just to stand back and take something like that. She needs to prove herself time and time again. She doesn’t like to lose, so she changed the game. She isn’t going after individuals anymore, she’s coming after all of us, the entire LAPD. And we’re just the warm-up round.”

—-----

It was near three am by the time Nyla, Angela and the others finally left. (Y/N) closed the door behind them, making sure to both lock and deadbolt the door shut. She rested her weight against the door, trying to push down the wave of emotion crashing into her. She closed her eyes, choosing to listen to the clinking of empty beer bottles as Tim tidied away the mess left over.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) pushed herself off the door and moved towards the bedroom with Kojo trailing sleepily behind her. It didn’t take long before she heard Tim shut off the lights to the rest of the room and shuffle towards the bedroom himself.

Neither of them spoke for a while, both enjoying the comfortable silence as they prepared for bed. They moved in sync, Tim tossing (Y/N) one of his tees and a pair of joggers to sleep in whilst she placed their phones on charge and set their alarms for the morning.

It was only when they had made their way into bed, (Y/N) leaning on Tim’s chest with Kojo snoring happily at their feet, did Tim finally break the silence.

“Thank you.” he murmured, barely above a whisper

(Y/N) looked at him perplexed as she responded with a tone that was just as soft. “For what?”

“For trusting me, all of us. I know it must have been hard.”

“Not as hard as it was to shut you out.” (Y/N) shuffled down in the sheets as she gathered her thoughts. “Do you think that this will work? Our plan, I mean.”

“I don't know.” Tim kissed (Y/N)’s head, “but if it doesn’t, we will try something else. We won’t let her win, I won’t let her win, baby. I promise you that.”

Masterlist

28 | Act Three

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @rookietrek @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4 @starstruckchopshoptyphoon @alessiamargaux @rexit-mo

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

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jenosbliss · 10 months ago

Note

Hi could I request 5 & 19 with Doyoung for female reader please? 😋

pairing. fem!reader x coworker!doyoung | genre. fluff | wc. 1.3k | warnings. none

a/n. hey anon, hope you like this one!

The clock strike 11.09 pm when you clicked the shutdown tab on your P.C. sighing in relief as your work for today and this week was finally over, so you can spend your weekend peacefully now. No more calls to answer, files to go through, screen to stare at… just a weekend filled with sleeping in late, Netflix, junk greasy food, and calmness.

It was pretty late at night and way past working hours which meant that almost everyone on your floor had already left and the only source of light on the floor had been previously from your dimly lit screen and the night lights on the ceiling. There wasn’t a single sound on the floor except for your steps hurrying towards the elevator.

“Y/N? You’re working overtime again?” a deep voice from behind you asked. A voice which made your eye roll out of annoyance as if on cue. “Hello to you to Mr. Kim. And yes, I am working overtime again. Are you surprised?” turning around scoffed at his fake concern. Both of you were now waiting for the elevator.

“Amused. I thought after becoming the head of R&D you’ll cut some slack… guess I was wrong.” he whispered the last part right above your ear, heat spreading to your cheeks at this action of his. “You’re becoming quite bold nowadays” chuckling nervously as you took a step away from him. A smirk unbeknownst to you adorning his lips at your nervousness.

“Guess I’m following in your steps. You’re working overtime too.” Your eyes searched his tired face as you waited for a reply, he looked worn out and eye bags under his eyes reflected the lack of sleep in his daily routine. His skin also looked paler than usual and- why the hell am I noticing so much?

“Well…yes but it’s not because of work.” He turned his head to look down at you sideways. The look in his eyes made you even more nervous, you felt like a prey, and he was the predator ready to pounce at you any moment. It was hot, hell he was hot, the hottest man alive…get yourself together y/n!

The safe distance you had created between both of you was intruded by him as shifted closer to you, eyes not leaving for a moment. “What man in his right senses would work overtime without any reason?” opting to sarcasm was your defence mechanism, ever in a situation you can’t escape? Be sarcastic or so you thought because what Doyoung said next made your eyes almost pop out.

“Who said I’m in my senses? For a while now I am going insane because of you-” he was interrupted mid-sentence when the elevator doors opened, and you almost jumped inside. “It’s here!” To say the least, Doyoung was disappointed with the timing of the elevator and how you avoided him in the elevator as if he was a stranger.

“Will you please stop staring?” you had tried your best to ignore him but just couldn’t. “Why? Does it make you nervous when I stare?" A devilish grin made its way to his lips, contented with the effect he had on you. “Doyoung please! What’s gotten into you? Did the work toll on your mental health or what? You weren’t like this before.”

A childish glint appeared in his eyes at the mention of the name. Not Mr. Kim or Sir but Doyoung, he never liked the sound of his name like this before. “I was always like this, it’s just you took time to notice.” again he shifted closer to you making you trapped between him and the wall.

“I’m done okay, do whatever you want.” his laugh reverberated throughout the small space as you scoffed. “Sorry, let’s change the topic.” “Thank you.”

“I liked hanging out with your friends the other day.” he confessed out of the blue. It has been three weeks since that unfortunate event and he just had to bring that up now?

Liked meeting your friends even if you had asked him not to? Accepted he meant no harm and was there just to return the pen drive you left behind but his presence and the tension between both of you had led your friends to assume there way more to the relationship you strictly labelled as coworkers.

“I’ll let them know.” you answered in a monotonous tone. “By the way, that Kiho guy… are you two seeing each other?” baffle would be a predicament to his statement, you were shocked. Firstly, because who was he to ask such a personal question, and secondly how could he think you would date Kiho?

You had better type than Kiho, and thought Doyoung must be aware that he’s someone you’re interested in- what? Is this the moment of realization for me? WHAT!?

“No, we’re just friends, not even best friends.” you explained while trying to not focus on the feelings which were surfacing for the man beside you. “You know he was being very touchy and flirty considering you’re just friends.” maybe you’re being delusional or was Doyoung actually jealous?

“It’s because he’s single and we met for the first time after long that he suddenly found me attractive to be his girlfriend. You know Glow Up.” You chuckled, remembering his behaviour during the hangout. “Didn’t he have eyes to see your beauty?” Doyoung grumbled. “I- did you just call me beautiful?” unable to believe your ears you questioned. “Pretty cannot define your beauty because everything about you is beautiful.”

“Are you doing drugs?” you laughed walking out of the elevator. “Y/n believe me, I saw your college pics, your friend showed them to me while you were away and if I had been there… I would have fallen in love with you way earlier.”

“You can’t be serious right now…” it was happening, Doyoung was confessing his love for you, something –no matter how much you try to deny– you waited for all these days. “Do you trust me?” you nodded your head as he pulled you closer to him, a hand resting on your back while he gently placed the other on your cheek, his breath hot on your face.

“Then trust me in showing you how beautiful you are. I’m so thankful to Kiho and every other guy who didn’t see you the way I do, because I can’t risk losing you. Trust me y/n in worshipping you and loving you. Will you trust me?” he was holding himself from showing you just how much he loved you, how he had loved you all this time, he waited for so many days, but these few seconds felt the longest.

“I trust you.” the moment you said this, Doyoung didn’t even waste a heartbeat before he kissed you, pulling you even closer than before, if that was possible. He kissed you with passion, lips against yours in a heated deep kiss, just perfectly showcasing his undying love for you.

You were the first one to break the kiss in order to breathe but he chased after your lips, laughing as you placed a hand on his chest “Leave something for tomorrow.” He placed a delicate kiss –unlike the previous one– on your forehead before pulling you in a hug.

“I have to make up for all the days I was supposed to be kissing you” he kissed the top of your head as you hid your face in his chest trying to hide the blush. “Are you free tomorrow?” he asked, running his hand through your hair. “Why? Are you gonna kiss me all day?”

“Hmm… doesn’t sound like a bad idea but I was thinking about going on a date.” perking your head up you smiled, “This is the perfect idea.” he leaned down to kiss you again as he whispered, “I love you.”

navigation.

masterlist. nct127 | nct dream | wayv

100 followers event 🌷

#nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #doyoung #doyoung fluff #doyoung x reader #nct fluff #nct #nct fics #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #kim doyoung #coworkers #coworkers to lovers #doyoung fanfic #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 x reader

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carmyberzattosjournal · 1 month ago

Text

Entry 19: Normal Straight Jacket

Bearblr Promptober Day 19: Only One Bed

Summary: Carmy and Sydney get stuck with one hotel room on a conference in New York, and Carmy is suffering for it. (908 words)

Warnings: Swearing, chronic pain, mentions of drug use (no characters use drugs), Carmy is very self-conscious, mentions of fem reader/rando lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

19 Oct 2024

I’m going to rethink acts of chivalry for the rest of my life.

So, Syd and I are at the conference in New York. I asked Sugar to do all the booking for our trip because (a) I don’t have time for this shit, (b) I’m going to fuck it up anyway because non-kitchen logistics are not my thing, and (c) Syd was already up to her eyeballs looking for new line cooks because we had a second fucking person disappear right at the start of service to go smoke crack in the back alley.

God's still a sadist, in case you were wondering.

Anyway, Sug did everything right. Like she got us rooms walking distance from the venue, so we didn’t have to put up with a rental car and all that shit, but the hotel fucked up our booking. They double-booked my room, they’re packed, the other person showed up 2 hours earlier than we did, so guess who doesn’t have a fucking room now?

At least they refunded us 75% of our booking for the massive inconvenience. More for Cicero.

So, we got one room. One bed, a shitty little table that rocks back and forth so bad that just interacting with it makes me want to hurl it out the window—not that it matters anyway because there’s only one chair—and a couch. Oh, and one bathroom. One shower. I lived on a houseboat in Copenhagen with the shittiest little shower you can’t even imagine to avoid this exact roommate scenario because being around other people, I swear to fuck, drives me fucking crazy.

I need to be able to get away from peoples’ eyes. There are few greater hells than being witnessed at all hours, than being scrutinized for your peculiarities and faults like you’re a lab rat being assessed for the gas chamber or some exotic breed of slug some random fucko put in a petri dish to poke with a stick. Every little weird thing I do—the incessant fiddling with objects, drumming my fingers, touching my face way too often to be remotely fucking normal, muttering to myself as I figure out something complicated, even writing in this fucking notebook—I become painfully aware of all of it. There’s this straight jacket on how to be “normal” that gets cinched around me—not of my own will. I fucking wish I could be as unapologetically myself as Fak is—and it ratchets tighter and tighter until it feels like my own skin is too tight on my body, and I need to get the fuck out of dodge. Kitchens are brutal and fast paced enough that I don’t have time to be a fucking weirdo and no one has time to pay any attention to me, but a conference? The funeral dinner at Ever (which I had to sit still for lest everyone at that table think I’m tweaking)? A fucking random fucking hotel room in fuck-off New York with Syd of all beings?

Darling, I feel a lot better around, but even now, she understands that I just need space and time to not be observed. It’s why we still don’t quite live together even though I know she wants to move in. More accurately, move me out, because those stupid fucking radiators and the idiot fucking landlord… Anyway, I’m on this dumbass couch because I’m short enough to fit on it (one point for being a short bitch, I guess) and Syd’s sound asleep because if I had to argue about who went where for one more fucking second, I might’ve bitten her head off, which would’ve set up an even more miserable day two than the one we’ll have anyway tomorrow.

She also still doesn’t know that my back is fucked up. And bringing it up now would’ve just made me seem like an asshole, or she would’ve gotten mad for not telling her sooner (which is fair, by the way. I definitely should’ve told her sooner), but we are now here and here is a couch that only looks nice. It feels like it’s full of sawdust or something. The grimy-ass floor might have more cushion to it. And the texture is this awful cheap polyester that whistles when I shift at all.

My back is killing me. Between the flight, then the first day of the conference (mostly sitting), and then this shit, it feels like I’ve got knives in it. Stretching didn’t help. And I’m not asking Syd to stand on it like Darling does. The pain does this weird thing when it gets this bad; starts to feel like a being. Like some hideous, horrible creature festering under my skin, invading my bones; a putrid blossom—maybe that corpse flower, Titan arum—that threatened to burst from my spine. When it gets this bad, I find myself touching the spot over and over again, sometimes going to the mirror and pulling up my shirt to look at my unbroken skin, to reassure myself that nothing was there. Half the time, I expected to see a scar, something visible to explain why it hurt so much, something I could point to, something that had a story I could tell. But no. It just hurts. It hurts the same way most things hurt: the usual way.

Well, if I had to pick one of us to be tired and the other to be well-rested tomorrow, I’d pick it like this.

#cb journal #bearblrpromptober #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #the bear

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orgasming-caterpillar · 1 year ago

Text

Dancing On Your Heartstrings

Chapter 19 (prev chapters here)

Raghav pov

Raghav had tossed and turned and not gotten a blink of sleep in the last 3 hours. It was midnight, the night before the competition, and his thoughts had chosen the worst possible time to turn sour.

The competition is in less than 24 hours, echoed relentlessly in his mind. He couldn't stop stressing about it. Even worse was when he wasn't stressing about the competition. Because that would mean he would be thinking about Ranveer, which was horrible and utterly revolting.

He tried to not think about the future, and was yanked into the past by an unwelcome memory. He remembered the first day he entered the studio two weeks ago, wearing a bright neon jacket and holding a Sting in one hand, half an hour later than their scheduled time. He remembered seeing Ranveer and the beat his heart skipped at the sight. He had seen Ranveer before, sure, but only on stage with the alta staining his palms and the soles of his feet, in intricately draped garments and accessories; never in a plain flannel shirt and plaid bottoms. He looked so extraordinarily human that Raghav almost thought he had a chance.

From the moment their eyes met, Ranveer has stripped apart a piece of Raghav's heart with each passing day, until he lay vulnerable and bare to his torments. Such was the torment he was feeling right now, at midnight in his own bed, trapped inside his own rib cage.

He turned again and stretched to pick up his phone from the nightstand. 00:23 read the widget on his homescreen. Hesitantly, he dialled Madhuri's number.

"Hi?" She picked up on the third ring.

"Kya kar rahi hai?"

"Chhat pe naach rahi hu."

Raghav snickered quietly. "Kis bechare ko traumatise karne nikli hai ab?"

"Arey nahi re. Manu ke sath movie dekh rahi thi. Call kyu kiya?"

"Neend nahi aa rahi. Socha tujhse puch lu kal kya karne wale ho tum log."

"Arey arey. Seedha video hi send kar deti hu na. Bata kar kya samajh aane wala hai tujhe?" He heard someone snickering in the background. Probably her girlfriend. "Seriously kya hua? Kal ke liye nervousness toh ho nahi sakti. Tu aisa nahi hai."

He contemplated whether he should tell her or not, then thought what the hell. She already knows how much of a pathetic loser he is. He could vent his overthought thoughts to her and she wouldn't bat an eye. "Well aaj Ranveer thoda weird behave kar raha tha."

"Again." She groaned. There was some shuffling on her end of the call and then she said, "I thought we were done with him?"

"Yeah, well, it's going to take some time. But seriously, mera toh mujhe pata hai kyu closed off tha, but vo kyu itna ajeeb tha aaj?”

"Maybe because of the fact that you embarrassed yourself by acting like a jealous girlfriend the day before?" She added dryly.

"Or maybe," He said, letting out his worst fear, "maybe he realised he doesn't want to do anything with me now that he knows I'm gay."

"Okay first, you don't know for sure he knows you're gay — and that's such a gray fucking area, you should sort that out and know for sure before driving yourself crazy— and second, even if he knows, do you really think he's that kind of a person? From what you told me about him, he doesn't sound that kind of a person."

No he isn't, but what other explanation could there be for his weird behaviour? He wanted to call and ask him what was wrong, but he couldn't. It felt like he wasn't allowed to call him anymore after today, and it made him feel so helpless.

Madhuri continued when he didn't reply, "You know I love you Raghav, and I hate seeing you getting hurt. You said it yourself- he's straight. So unless he gives you blaring red signs that screams he's into you, remember he's just another guy you met not even two weeks ago." After a brief pause, she said in a gentle voice, "You know he only cares about the competition, Raghu. You'll only hurt yourself if you think otherwise"

"That's not true," he finally croaked out of his tight throat.

"You should sleep. It'll affect your performance if you don't." For the first time in almost 2 two decades of their friendship, he detected a note of pity in his best friend's voice, and it made him feel a mix of frustration and self loathing. He wanted to forget everything about that, hell, he wanted to forget everything that happened since the last two weeks. So he heeded his best friend's advice and went to sleep, desperate for the oblivion it provides.

• • •

Raghav didn't know why, but he was picturing Ranveer to be ready in classical dance attire as he picked him up from his house. He was not⁠― something that in turn relieved and annoyed Raghav. Why was he still yearning for another brief flash of tan skin, now that he knew he had no right to?

Instead, Ranveer was wearing a white cotton shirt and a pair of cargo pants that had be have been sitting in his wardrobe for months, judging how tight it had gotten around his thighs―

Raghav cleared his throat, making Ranveer glance up at him as he made his way to the car. He said nothing and took his seat in the front. Raghav tried not to look at him. Because everytime he did, he could imagine his gaze. Sometimes it was on him, dark pools swirling with a million emotions, none of them good and all of them rendering Raghav useless. Sometimes it was on someone else; the girl at the cafe, a pretty girl walking by, a classical dancer performing upstage. Those hurt even more, for they all held a look Raghav could never get from him. It was easy to ignore whatever he was feeling; especially with the road to focus on.

But that didn't cease the heat rushing to his cheeks when his hand brushed against Ranveer's thigh instead of the gear shift.

He wasn't focusing nearly as well as he thought, because a pedestrian almost crashed into the car. Raghav slammed the brakes.

Ranveer's eyes widened and he gripped the door's handle. It took Raghav a few seconds to understand that he hadn't almost killed an innocent soul, it was the person who walked into the car's path.

The person walked up to the window on the drivers' side. "Ayush?" Ranveer whispered. Raghav wondered if it was to him, because it was certainly too low for Ayush to hear. He banged on the car window before Raghav got a chance to reply.

Slurs were flying out of his mouth before the window rolled down completely. Words Raghav was not degenerate enough to repeat, and frankly, much too stressed to deal with. He didn't care if Ayush wanted to waste his own time by calling Ranveer his boyfriend. He almost started the car before Ranveer put a hand on his arm.

Raghav froze.

"Ye Ayush hi hai na? Jo tujhse lada tha?"

His blood was roaring in his ears, heart pounding relentlessly. All the heat in his body centred on the mere inches of skin where Ranveer's palm met his arm. Goosebumps rose on said skin. Raghav nodded.

"Kya karega ab?" He heard Ayush sneer at Ranveer. Raghav had forgotten he was here. "Badla lega iske liye?"

Time be damned, Raghav wanted to actually slam his car into this fuckface. Ranveer got out of the car. His expression was unreadable as he shut the door.

"Before you do it," Ayush continued. "Let me tell you: he's a fucking fagg-" He saw Ranveer walking to the other side, barely registered his surroundings until a sharp crack sounded.

Ayush howled, cupping his nose as if he was about to sneeze. It took Raghav a moment to realise that Ranveer had punched him. Ranveer had punched Ayush.

"Saale madarch-" Ayush started, but Ranveer grabbed him by his collar and shoved him onto the footpath. It was graceless, a messy deal of blood and anger, and it was so so unlike Ranveer that it made Raghav question everything he knew about him. Most of all, it was exhilarating; seeing Ranveer handling the boy who had made his life hell, as if they were anything to each other and their problems were each other's problems, it made Raghav's heart run rampant and hair prickle at the nape of his neck.

Ayush scurried away, all-bark-no-bite threats falling from his tongue. Raghav thought for once that Ranveer would follow, but he was rooted in his place. His expression was barely controlled fury, a facade of stability over a wild beast. He watched Ayush turn the corner and run away, and then did what Raghav least expected him to― just like everything else he had done recently.

He punched the wall.

Raghav flinched, a concerned gasp involuntarily leaving his mouth. Ranveer's eyes met his and he seemed almost surprised to find him there. His features relaxed, anger draining out of him. Then, he smiled.

Ranveer fucking Kashyap smiled.

"What the fuck was that!?"

"I had wanted to do that for so long," Ranveer answered. "Ever since I heard he hurt you."

Raghav should've laughed. Raghav should've smiled back. He shouldn't have remembered Madhuri's words from last night. "You know he only cares about the competition, Raghu. You'll only hurt yourself if you think otherwise."

Of course he wanted to hit Ayush. Because Ayush hurt Raghav and hurting Raghav sabotaged his performance. He was angry for his ruined performance, not Raghav.

He turned his eyes back to the road. The car roared to life. "Competition ke liye late ho jayenge," he said.

Ranveer stared at him, smile fading. After what felt like an eternity, he tore his burning gaze away and walked back to his side of the car.

Better off like this, Raghav thought. Better off not smiling at all than wearing it like a weapon. Though he wasn't very sure which knife cut deeper: seeing Ranveer smile or being the reason for him not smiling.

Good thing he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore after tonight.

#hehehehehehehea #are ya cryin kids #dancing on your heartstrings #madhav ke lekh

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mrschristensen · 1 month ago

Text

Kinktober Day 19 (10/19): Shower starring Clayton Beresford

Kinktober Masterlist

WARNINGS: smut (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK), female s/o, dom Clay/sub s/o, shower/bath sex, fluffy/romantic sex (more slow and sensual), piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pet names/name calling (my dove, beautiful girl, princess, my rose), thigh fucking, lmk if I missed any!

synopsis: Clay's completely overwhelmed with everything going on with Beresford Capitol. So he decides to treat himself to a nice bath; but his motives quickly shift.

-> note: It isn't really "shower" sex until a certain part, assuming that the bathtub had a shower too. This is also pretty much the opening scene in the movie, but with my spin on it! <3 (posted on 10/20)

WC: 804 words

With everything happening with his company right now, all he could feel was stress. Every single concern of his was about the business, whether it be financial matters, their social standing, or something as simple as what the general plan would be for the day. Nonetheless, it was overwhelming to the max.

So, he decided it was high time he treats himself to a cozy, warm bath in the morning. It was a weekend, so he wasn't working since he took them off. It worked out perfectly, really. He would finally get some time to himself, might be able to actually think his own thoughts for the first time this week, and would be able to just be... himself.

But then his girlfriend walked in, wearing one of his shirts and a black lacy thong. She had clearly just woken up, since she was still out cold when he got up (which was pretty abnormal since she usually wakes up if he does). Then his focus completely shifted from his relaxation to how the hell he was going to get his dick inside her. Of course his first instinct was to think with his cock; it wasn't his fault, anyways. Not that he minded.

"Well, you seem to have had some very much needed sleep, my dove," he says in that soft, soothing voice of his, sounding like honey, to which she only lazily smiles at.

"I definitely got more than I thought I would," she responds tiredly, making her way over to the bathtub and pressing a gentle yet quick kiss on his lips. "I didn't even notice you got up."

He chuckled. his forehead resting against hers and his lips just barely touching hers. "I could tell. You were out cold. But that doesn't matter... You definitely look a lot better than how I was picturing you in my mind a few minutes ago."

Her smile widened a bit, "Yeah? And how was that?"

"Well..." His arms slowly wrapped around her waist as he kissed her, the wet noise when it broke sounding throughout the room He leaned in for another kiss. "I was picturing you soaking wet with all of your clothes on," he finished as he simultaneously tried pulling her in, kissing her again.

She made a noise that showcased how caught off guard she was against his lips, jerking back to try and keep herself out of the water. It failed miserably, however, and she let out a yelp as she fell into the tub with him.

She couldn't even be mad at him, drowning in his laughter and eventually laughing along with him. He pulled her onto his lap, bringing her into a passionate kiss and smiling against her lips. It was a euphoric moment for the both of them, to simply just be with each other and love one another the way they wanted to; no expectations, no nothing, just them.

But then he had her riding his member, forcing her to take her sweet time. He guided her, feeling her hips roll under his hands as she continued to take him in. "You always feel so amazing," he pants, kissing her once more. "My beautiful girl."

"I hope I do," she responds quietly, her breath hitching slightly as he eased her into a bit of a faster pace. It was already getting her worked up, and he loved how just the smallest of changes or the tiniest of gestures could get her going.

Eventually both of them had way too many orgasms to count, and the water was getting pretty cold. "C'mon, I need to rinse off," she pants, getting up shakily as he does the same.

She turns on the shower and they both wash each other off. "Please, princess... Can I fuck your thighs?" he asks, to which she simply nods. He felt grateful, since he didn't want to tire her out even further than he already did, but he felt like he needed to get one more out.

He makes quick work, sitting his cock between her squished together thighs, and thrust back and forth, holding onto her as he did it. It didn't take long, since she added the stimulation of kissing his face and neck, his hot ropes of cum spilling out of his urethra.

"Do you know how absolutely gorgeous you are, my rose?" he pants, looking into her eyes as he brushes a strand behind her ear. "Because I don't think you do. However, it's understandable. Butterflies can't see their own beauty."

She rolls her eyes, having heard him say that saying before. She knew that he was somewhat right, since she was normally pretty insecure about herself, but she was getting better. He made her feel more confident, and slowly but surely, she was starting to believe him.

#ch: clayton beresford #clayton beresford smut #mrschristensen #clay beresford #clay beresford smut #hayden christensen #hayden christensen smut #smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompts #mrschristensen's kinktober 2024

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verdemoun · 3 months ago

Note

WHEN DUTCH SAYS “hosea, i…miss him” I SWEAR TO YOU ON MY LIFE THERE IS A TEAR ROLLING DOWN HIS CHEEK I SAW IT

i have such a love hate relationship with this interaction because i hear it as 'you sound like hosea. i miss... him'. like dutch the trembling inhale looking up to stop himself crying like grief is going to destroy him but also it feels like 'i miss...him' as a jab at arthur trying to step up because he wasn't hosea. dutch wasn't suddenly going to turn to him for advice on plans. arthur was still his son, subvervient, beneath him, an enforcer and gunman and nothing more.

back to your regularly scheduled angst

Arthur, understandably, withdrew into himself a bit when he heard what happened to Dutch. Hosea knows his poor boy has always been a sulker, whether it was over Mary or disagreements with gang members Arthur sulks and bottles things up.

In 19th century normalized destructive habits, he decides the solution is to get Arthur drunk. Arthur's always been a fun, silly drunk. They'll have a few too many drinks and laugh about the old days - the good times, just the two of them. Like when Arthur was too stubborn to admit he shouldn't have killed a rabbit with a shotgun and chipped his tooth on buckshot when he insisted on eating it. Or how when Hosea finally decided to formally introduce him to Bessie, Arthur got so nervous he fainted. They'd laugh too hard, Arthur would drink too much and no doubt pass out, and in the morning he'd feel hungover but more like himself again.

And it's working. Arthur starts cackling as he reminds Hosea of the time Bessie had to help him play dominos against the old man, only to discover Hosea had been cheating the entire time and was exiled to sleeping on the ground while Arthur got to sleep in the bed. Hosea countered with the fact he was 19 at the time and still snuggled up to Bessie like a little kid, which she adored and Arthur has always denied.

If not for how clearly and confident Arthur said it after a long burst of laughter, Hosea would've told himself he misheard. "It should've been me, in Saint Denis." Tells him not to say stupid things, but the fun, silly Arthur is gone. He goes on.

Says he was already a dying man and too stupid to realise. If he'd been shot in Saint Denis instead of Hosea, Hosea would've saved Dutch. Hell, he would've saved the gang. Hosea would've talked Dutch out of all the stupid plans like he always had, and he would've realised Micah was the rat and dealt with him like any traitor. They would've stayed together, everyone would've been happy. Dutch would've listened to him, they would've made it back out West. Jack would've grown up surrounded by family and the bureau would've had no reason to go after John, Bill wouldnt't have started his own gang, Javier wouldn't have had to flee back to Mexico everyone would've been so much happier if he died instead of Hosea because he wasn't enough. He was never going to be enough to save everyone. He couldn't even save Dutch, because he wasn't enough and he was sorry because he failed.

Hosea had only seen Arthur cry a handful of times over his entire life. When he scratched one of Dutch's records as a boy and thought they were going to throw him out, when Mary left him, when Eliza and Isaac died, the first time he held Jack. He knows Arthur is a messy, ugly crier, and once he starts all he can do is hold him. So that's exactly what he did, hoping at least some part of Arthur believed him when he said none of it was his fault.

#rdr2 timewarp au #hosea matthews #arthur morgan #come get y'all angst

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justmeinabigolworld · 11 months ago

Text

You wanna know why I love middle grade books so much compared to YA?

One, they feel much more optimistic than YA, and more likely to try new, off-the-wall things

And two…

They don’t have all that gratuitous romance. Like, I already don’t read a huge chunk of YA books because they’re pure romance, and even in the books that aren’t explicitly about romance, there’s romance. Just when you think you’re safe, it pops up.

Oh, look! A fantasy book with a creative setting and a female protagonist! I’m gonna read it! Okay…good so far…wait, there’s this guy…oh, I don’t like where this is going…aaaaaaand they kissed. And the guy tends to be awful, too. Really mean to the protagonist, but she loves him anyway, because…she has to. It’s YA. I mean, sometimes the guy is fine, but sometimes he’s a piece of shit.

It’s like there’s some kind of law stating that all YA with a female protagonist must give her a love interest, complete with an angsty romance subplot, no matter what the story is about or how much (or little) it fits with the actual plot.

And you know what? I’m seeing more books that give the heroine a female love interest, which is great, even though that means the book has to be marketed as a “queer book” (so as not to upset the homophobes who would otherwise pick up the book or whatever). Still, a love interest is a love interest, and even though I enjoy seeing more queer representation these days, what I’d enjoy even more is a YA section that’s not dominated by romance.

Come on, people. We teens aren’t that horny. Not every book needs romance. Like, with how prevalent love interests are in teen fiction, why are you guys surprised that teens feel bad for having never kissed anyone? Hell, I’ve never kissed anyone, and I’m 19 at the time of writing this. Do I feel like a loser? Yes. Is it because of teen media? Yes…and it’s also due to seeing my classmates in relationships and feeling bad in comparison, but shush.

Also, this is gonna sound weird coming from a girl, but I’d like to read more YA with male protagonists. Everything seems to be about girls these days, and it’s good to have female protagonists, but let’s not leave guys out. As a plus, they have less of a chance of having a love interest. Hooray.

Seriously, though, not every girl constantly thinks about romance, and not every girl wants to read about it. Okay?

Hell, who am I even talking to? It’s not like the publishers are gonna listen to me.

But, uh, yeah. Read middle grade, it’s awesome. I’ve got some recommendations if you’d like.

I’ll probably make a post that’s just a list of good middle grade books and series, but here are a few:

The Thickety by J.A. White: really good dark fantasy, stuff that would even disturb adults, great worldbuilding and characters, and yes, there’s a love interest, but there isn’t much of a romance element. Feels really unique.

How to Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell: yes, it was a series before it was a movie, and yes, the books are better. Very different from the movies, but that’s not a bad thing. The series gets darker as it moves along and Hiccup grows up, and things the characters took for granted are looked at with a more critical eye. Really interesting.

My Life With the Liars by Caela Carter: a book about a girl who grew up in a cult. Every time I read it, it gets more disturbing because I realize things that a younger me didn’t. Still, the book is more about Zylynn’s trauma and how she begins to heal and reach out, even as her worldview crumbles.

The Secret Series by Pseudonymous Bosch: witty, charming, and secret! Apparently, some people find the author’s frequent asides and footnotes to be annoying, but I love them. The sequel trilogy isn’t nearly as good, though.

Okay, that’s it for now. I hope at least some of you can understand my frustration, and I hope you’ll check out these books!

#Reading #bookblr #ya #middle grade #fiction #young adult #rant #the thickety #How to train your dragon #the secret series #my life with the liars

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ejzah · 1 year ago

Note

Got inspired after watching the early season 1 episode, Past Lives. Could you write a fanfic where based on previous experiences, Kensi doesn't like flowers, but finally she starts to love them again when she begins to fall in love with Deeks.

I Hope He Buys You Flowers

***

February 2011

“What the hell is this?” Kensi demanded, upon walking into the bullpen and finding a light pink rose with a fine spray of baby’s-breath surrounding it.

In Kensi’s opinion, gifts of flowers never meant anything good. They were for apologies. For illness and death.

The house had been filled with flowers, buckets and wreaths and vases of the things when her dad died. When she was 19, her boyfriend before she met Jack gave her flowers and then she found out he liked another girl. She’d brought them to a few friends who were sick, or colleagues injured enough to land a stay in the hospital.

Flower gardens of course were an entirely different matter. She loved the idea of growing daisies, and moss roses, dahlias, and had even attempted to grow a few of her favorites in the past with predictably disastrous results.

Being give flowers though? No, she wasn’t really a fan. Especially when they were laying on her desk.

“No idea,” Callen answered her, sounding amused as she gingerly picked the little covering up between two fingers. “It was here when I came in.” Sam just shook his head.

“The flowers are courtesy of your favorite LAPD liaison,” Deeks announced grandly, coming from the direction of the stairs.

“You bought me a rose,” Kensi repeated.

“Yeah, and Nell and Hetty.” He tilted his head towards Callen and Sam. “Sorry, I didn’t get you guys any, cause I thought you might find it weird.”

“And we appreciate that,” Sam said.

Kensi sighed, already over the banter. “Ok, that still doesn’t answer the why. You know I hate flowers.”

“Valentine’s Day,” Deeks answered simply, like it was perfectly obvious.

“Which was two days ago,” Kensi reminded him.

“Yeah, and now everything is on clearance, flowers included. I always grab a few.” Deeks grinned, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I might even share my Fannie Mae stash if you’re nice.”

“So, you just did this to be nice?” It was a foreign concept, especially when most gifts came with expectations.

“Pretty much,” Deeks said. “But you don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to.”

“No.” Kensi twirled the stem of the rose between her fingers, watching the colors swirl. “It’s ok. Thanks.”

***

July 2012

It had been a sucky, sucky birthday. Their case had run late, requiring Kensi to go undercover in a slinky dress and seduce a complete ass of a guy when all she really wanted to do was go home, eat store bought cake and zone out on Top Model.

She kicked off her shoes as she walked into her apartment, one landing somewhere under the couch, and she tugged her shirt off, leaving her in jeans and a tank top. That movement tweaked her strained ribs, because of course she’d gotten into an altercation with one of the armed guards at her would-be seductee’s mansion.

Thank god Deeks had been there to back her up. Instead of a bullet in the head, she’d come out with mildly bruised ribs and a sore hip. Which still seemed like a poor birthday present.

It would probably be smart to soak in a warm bath for a while, but that seemed like a lot of effort and Kensi was feeling decidedly sorry for herself. Heading straight into the kitchen, she scrounged up a personal frozen pizza—which was only a little frost burnt—a beer, and the rest of a container of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Carting all of her bounty back into the living room, she tossed it on the coffee table, she turned on the TV and scrolled through the channels. None of her go-to mindless shows were on, so she settled on some procedural that was a little slow paced and way too dramatic instead.

The doorbell rang just as she was about to take a bite of her pizza. Growling under her breath, Kensi pushed herself off the couch with a groan, intent on making the person on the other side of the door regret coming to her apartment.

She looked through the window, frowning when she found no one there, and only an unassuming brown paper bag on the top step. She opened the door cautiously, regarding the bag suspiciously until she found a little note card stapled to the top of the bag.

“Happy birthday, Kensalina. Sorry it wasn’t better,” it read on Deeks’ familiar handwriting.

Rolling her eyes, Kensi carried bag inside, clearing a spot on the table. She pulled out a bouquet of flowers, speckled lilies and small purple roses in the mix, a tiny stuffed koala, and underneath that, a slide of the best looking chocolate cake she’d ever seen.

She set each item on the table and surveyed them with a smile creeping at her lips despite everything. Deeks annoyed the hell out of her sometimes, but then there were times like tonight when he seemed to know exactly what she needed.

Bypassing her now cooled pizza, she popped open the plastic container and dug into the cake.

“Oh my god,” she muttered around a mouthful. Deeks would have a field day over her reaction if he were here. She savored each bite, her eyes drifting over to the bouquet several times.

Maybe flowers weren’t the worst thing in the world.

***

April 2013

“Deeks, pay attention,” Kensi snapped, nudging his shoulder, and interrupting his examination of a leather vest.

“I am,” he protested in a low, unconcerned tone, casting a slow, unassuming look around the market they were casing. To anyone watching, it would hopefully look like he was scoping out which stall he’d go to next.

“You know I like to blend in. We’re supposed to look like a couple enjoying an afternoon shopping.” As if to prove his point, he held up a particularly garish pair of high heels. She pushed them away with an amused grimace.

He continued on his way, easily balancing checking out the wares, chatting with the vendors, and keeping an eye on their surroundings. She admired him for a few seconds, lingering on the way he rested one hand on his hip, one leg extended to the side.

Now was not the time for ogling, she reminded herself. They were on the job. And Deeks would never let her live it down if he realized she was checking him out.

Moving on, she paused in front of a sunglasses stall, fiddling with a few random pairs while she watched a man edging his way through the crowd.

“You got something?” Deeks murmured, silently coming up behind her. He looped his arm around her waist, leaning into her side.

“Just a pickpocket,” Kensi replied. “We’ll have to notify the local security once this is over.” She should have found a reason to call pull away, but instead, she let Deeks lead her back into the main road between stalls, her hand resting on his lower back.

“Here.” Deeks held up a flower with a bluish-purple hue. “It’s not a fern, but it’s the best I could do.”

Kensi took it, taking a deep sniff. It had a light, pleasant smell.

“When did you have time to get this?”

“There’s a little stall over there. The lady grows them all herself.”

Kensi shook her head; of course he’d made friends with the flower lady.

“You know, we’re not actually here to buy stuff,” Kensi said.

“It would look weird if we didn’t.” Deeks eyed her briefly, something playful and definitely not professional flashing in his gaze. “Besides, it matches your top.”

A small rush of pleasure that he’d notice ran through her. For a moment, she wished that they weren’t in the middle of a case, and actually on a date. She pushed that thought down, passing the flower under her nose again.

“You know, flowers aren’t so bad after all,” she said told Deeks as they walked arm-in-arm.

***

A/N: I hope this was alright. I know I didn’t cover the whole length of Kensi and Deeks’ relationship, but I was drawn to start early on.

Title take from the Bruno Mars song “When I was Your Man”.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #pre densi #fluff #prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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morimakesfanart · 1 year ago

Text

Sindria's Prophet #36

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35]

[AO3] [wattpad]

*I'm not sure if I'm sorry for the sudden jump to comedy. I think we could all use a break before getting back into it *CW1- self harm ideation *CW2- more romantic trauma explained ~POV Sharrkan~ When Sinbad had left those lovely ladies alone, Sharrkan took up the post. He ended up drinking himself stupid trying to impress them and now his head was throbbing. He fell asleep with his head in his arms on the table. It was the sounds of voices that woke him up.

King Sinbad's voice ended up being the last straw forcing Sharrkan awake. He was using a tone Shar had never heard from him before. "And after finally leaving him, she promised herself she would never be with anyone again." What the hell was he talking about? Sindria's best swordsman slowly rolled his head up. It was probably for the best that he woke up since he still had to head back to the Palace. Sinbad was carrying Mori for some reason. "She told me when I tried to tell her I..." Sinbad didn't finish his sentence. After a moment he scoffed at himself.

Ja'far beat everyone to asking for clarification. "Hold a second Sin... Did you accept you have feelings for Mori because of what happened earlier?" The King nodded. "And they rejected you again?"

Sinbad hesitated before nodding again.

That fully woke Shar up. 'Nononono!!' That would mean he was the biggest loser of the bet. "There's no way!" Sharrkan was standing before he was aware of what he was doing, and he wasn't one to back down. "Do you know who our King is???" Why had Shar spent most of his life emulating and practicing how Sinbad flirts with women if his methods would fail the one time it really matters????

All heads turned to Sharrkan and he had the distinctive feeling that he shouldn't have said that.

Mori's mumbles cut through the silence following his question. "Why (are) you yelling?" Their voice was much clearer with the next question. "Who did what now?"

The King, Ja'far, Drakon, and Sahel froze. Shar was already in trouble so it didn't matter if he got into a little more. "You rejected King Sinbad!" All the eye daggers pointed at him weren't a good sign, but he didn't care. If Sinbad was actually in love with Mori, and they rejected him, then was that why Yam seemed to hate Sharrkan more every day?? Was being a womanizer bad actually???

Mori's answer only made things worse. "Yeah. Which time? I've been rejecting him since Balbadd." They tapped Sinbad's chest a few times. "Put me down, please." As soon as he complied, Mori's legs buckled under them. "Ah!" They wrapped both of their arms around the King to keep from falling, and he caught them at the same time. Sin's expression only supported the others' bets more. Mori apologized to their source of support. "Sorry. That was a bad idea. My hips still feel like they want to fall off."

Mori's hips hurt..? All of the Generals and Sahel looked between Mori and their King who was helping her to the nearest seat. The way Sinbad kept an arm around her and sat with her made everyone want to tell the couple to get a room... but they might have already gotten one from the sounds of it. Shar had to know for sure. "Hold on, did you not reject him this time?" Do Sinbad's techniques work or not?

Mori took the longest to figure out what he had just asked, and their face turned bright red when they did. "IT'S NOT LIKE THAT! WE DIDN'T- DID PISTI NOT TELL YOU GUYS THAT I WAS DANCING???" Their voice cracked a bunch. After a sharp inhale, they rambled an explanation of hurting themself while dancing.

"Oh." Came from everyone except Sinbad.

Ja'far recovered from the whiplash faster than the rest. "I'll go have a cot setup for you, and I'm sure at least one of the medical magicians hasn't gone to bed yet."

Mori looked away from everyone. "I want to get back to my room as soon as possible."

Ja'far left to see what was available at the medical tent.

While they waited, Shar walked over to Drakon and Sahel. He spoke quietly enough to keep things in their circle. "So... Why is he so upset if they've been rejecting him the whole time?" When hadn't Yam rejected Sharrkan? You didn't see him cry to the others about it! ((Yeah, only to Masrur))

Drakon sighed and shared a look with his wife. This only made Shar more curious, but it was obvious he wasn't supposed to ask again right now. He just crossed his arms and turned to watch his King. --- ~POV Sinbad~ When Sinbad helped Mori to the bench, he kept an arm around them to stabilize them, but also so he could keep touching them a little longer. Mori kept their arms around him for support while walking, and even after sitting down they didn't fully let go, so neither did he. When Ja'far made his suggestions, Sinbad could feel Mori's back tensing even though it didn't show on their face or in their voice. He would have to ask about it when he had a chance.

Barely a minute after Ja'far went to get a medic, Mori spoke quietly. "I'm sorry... for burdening you."

Sin responded just as quietly. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"But I made you carry me all the way here."

"I wanted to carry you, and I'd gladly do it again."

Mori tightened their grip on his clothes. "But I snapped and trauma dumped on you without your permission." He hadn't heard that phrase before, but he understood from context.

He sighed. Was this guilt an aftereffect of their outburst? "Mori. You know parts of my past I've never told anyone. You accepted me and chose to help me anyway. I can't do the same for you if you never tell me anything."

Sinbad couldn't see their face past their bangs with their head down, but he could feel and see them trembling again. They covered their face with one hand as they nodded to respond. He lightly squeezed them against himself with the arm he had around them. That was all the encouragement Mori needed to lean their head against him. Tension slowly released from his shoulders. However upset Mori was with him, they were still willing to find comfort in him. Earlier they had even agreed in wanting him to become someone they could trust. Mori still liked him. Sinbad hadn't lost yet.

Ja'far returned with a very tired medical magician and painkillers. The healing magic would promote faster healing, and the medicine would lessen the immediate pain over the next few hours. After the magician left, Ja'far repeated his offer from earlier. "Are you sure you don't want to rest here?" It was worth a shot.

Instead of answering Ja'far, Mori looked up at Sinbad with an expression that made his heart race. It was one part longing, one part desperation, one part hopeful, and 100% adorable. "Did you mean what you said before?" They were quiet so the others couldn't hear, but that wasn't why Sinbad was caught off guard. Fate was on his side in a way he couldn't have anticipated. When he didn't answer right away Mori clarified, "...That you'd carry me again?" They looked at the steps leading up to the Palace. "I won't be in any condition to climb those stairs on my own for a while, and I really want to go home, so..."

'Yes! Absolutely!' Mori called his Palace 'home!' Sinbad had to calm himself and get his expression under control while she wasn't looking. There were multiple options to get her to her room asap, and she still chose him. He didn't know why Mori wanted to be in his arms again after what happened and he was not going to jinx it by looking overly enthusiastic. He kept his expression and tone as nonchalant and gentle as possible, "Of course. I never make a promise I can't keep."

--- ~POV Ja'far~ The General wasn't sure what Mori said to Sin, but the expression on the King's face said it was a good thing. And then that King scooped her up into his arms again and stood in one smooth motion. Mori had an arm around him for support this time.

"Hold on, Sin!" Ja'far took a few steps forward and repeated his question from earlier. "You're not still thinking of carrying Mori up to the Palace, are you?" Sin looked at the stairs, but didn't say anything, so Ja'far turned his attention to the Prophet. "Mori, I know you're injured but isn't this a bit excessive?? You were worried about the rumors too, weren't you?" This was going to make so many headaches for him later -especially with how Sin reacted to the rumors- Wait! That wasn't a problem anymore!!! But there were still reasons Sinbad shouldn't carry anyone up several flights of stairs.

Mori stared at Ja'far for a moment, and then let their head loll against Sinbad's. "He said it's okay."

'Damnit! There's 2 of them.'

Sinbad's smile was distinctively bigger as he looked at the person in his arms. "It is a long way up on foot." Nonono! Ja'far knew that expression. Sinbad was going summon a Dji- "Spirit of Dominance and Submission..." The silver bangle on the dungeon capturer's right wrist glowed as he spoke the incantation, and summoned "Focalor" 's Fullbody Djinn Equip.

Mori was just as surprised as the rest of them, but she was absolutely not of the same mind. "You're a genius."

'Damnit! There's 2 of them!'

Their overconfident King laughed until Mori talked over him. "This is easily one of your most comfortable Djinn Equips."

"Huh?"

Mori continued proudly. "It's really uncomfortable to have your metal vessels pressed into me for an extended time. And most of your Djinn Equips are just as covered in metal. But Focalor," they pulled at the gold rings on Sin's chest, "has thin jewelry that doesn't cover as much. 2 birds, 1 stone." ((Heeheehee "bird"))

"Ah. I didn't realize," was Sinbad's first response. "I'll remember that for next time," was the second. And there was no way something like this wasn't going to happen again when they were both idiots that wanted the same thing!

The idiot couple flew off to the Palace before the group could say anything. They were definitely going to have to ask Sinbad for more details in the future because they were absolutely missing something.

--- ~POV Sinbad~ The guards were understandably shocked to see their King descending into the court yard in a Djinn Equip. Sinbad dropped the Equip as soon as he landed to not worry everyone, even if it would be a bit uncomfortable for the person in his arms. As he started walking towards the guest tower, he also started looking for reasons to stall. "You know, Mori, you really surprised me when you asked me to carry you again."

She made a sound of recognition, but didn't say anything. He could see Mori watching his face with his peripheral vision. Sin walked halfway across the court yard in silence. If she didn't want to say anything, he wouldn't push- "It was the safest and fastest way I could think of."

"'Safest?'"

The waves swirled around them like before. Her voice was a sober melancholy. "I'm still not in a good head space, so my brain is expecting specific types of violence even though I know better."

Sinbad stopped walking and looked Mori in the eyes. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" He may have hurt her heart on accident earlier, but there was no way she thought he'd hurt her physically, right?

It was dark, but he could make out their expression. It was as melancholic as their voice. "You go out of your way to avoid using violence as much as possible so I felt safe asking you." That was a relief.

It didn't leave many options though. "Then, was it my Generals?"

Mori looked away and he knew he was on the right track. She sighed and continued in the same monotone. "Ja'far is someone that does not hesitate to use violence when he thinks someone is a threat to you." Sinbad had hoped that the friction between the two was a thing of the past. Mori continued, "He threatened Cassim in Balbadd for projecting his experience with nobility onto you. Ja'far might have killed him if you hadn't stopped him." That wasn't long before Mori entered the world. Somehow it still surprised him when he learned more of her visions. "I know things you have done and will do that Ja'far would never believe of you. He has plenty of reasons to hurt me if I say them even if he wouldn't threaten me into it."

Sin could understand where that fear came from. Ja'far becomes aggressive and violent if someone is even just defaming King Sinbad. If Sinbad isn't there to confirm Mori's visions about his secrets, the General would never believe them. "Ja'far will never force you to talk about your visions." Sinbad would make sure of it. "You never have to talk about them with him when I'm not around either."

((CW1)) Mori shook her head. "When I'm like this, 'punishment' feels inescapable. I'd rather provoke the person and get the punishment out of the way because the fear of what and when it will happen is much stronger than any pain will be when it's over. And if I can control when it happens, I can influence how bad it will be." That made his breath catch. Just what had Mori gone through to think like that? "It's why I..." Mori hesitated, "ended up telling him about you dying in five years. But nothing happened. Instead, he said he'd never pressure me again, but the fear is still there." Her hands had gone colder than normal. "I know this isn't how I should be, so I normally look for any option that will removed the risk of me doing that." The matter-of-fact way she was talking made what she was saying more unnerving.

Sinbad confirmed, "In this case, asking me to carry you back was that option?" She nodded and her grip on his shoulder tightened. As happy as it made him to know she thought of him when she was in need, it wasn't a good sign that she felt that way about one of his Generals. "Mori, no one in Sindria will ever be able to hurt you. I will protect you. I promise." He already had ideas on how to fix this, but now wasn't the time.

Her eyes softened and a chuckle escaped her. "I knew you'd say something like that." Mori looked him in the eyes again; a smile was pushing past their melancholy. "I know you make promises to people you want on your side, and I've seen in my visions how you show kindness to anyone in front of you that needs it. You even feel empathy for your enemies." They knew he was on their side and that he would help them if they asked. "Even before I met you I was drawn to that kindness you give to everyone equally."

The waves were rising again with his relief. Sinbad didn't bother to control his expression. This smile was an earnest one. "How does it feel to be on the receiving end?" He was more than willing to show them this side of him any time they needed.

Mori turned away and clenched her eyes shut. Even with just the moon light he could see their face getting a little red. "It's making me greedy!"

'Greedy?' Earlier that night Mori called herself greedy when she said she wanted him all to herself. His kindness made her greedy for him? Even after what he did earlier? Maybe the apology had worked after all. "I think you could use to be more greedy." This was a much better mood than the previous one.

Mori whipped her face back towards him. "Says the man so greedy that the Djinn had to cut him off!" As grumpy as she looked, she wasn't actually upset with him. He was proven correct when she added, "Why don't you give me some of your greed if you think I'm lacking so much?"

Sinbad laughed. This was perfect. "If I give you my greed, what will you give me in return?"

"Ugh~"

He laughed again.

After a moment of watching him, Mori took the bait. "What would you even want in return anyway?" She was definitely feeling better if she was playing along with this. This could also be a sign that she was willing to continue flirting with him.

"I want your name." He wanted it attached to his own in a way that would tell everyone they were his alone. Mori would get upset if he said what he wanted directly, so this was the best he could do for now. It wasn't like he could actually give her his greed, so why not request something she couldn't give either?

"Oh." Mori was understandably confused; he already knew their nam- "It's Morgan. I never liked how the 'g' sounds in it, so I prefer to be called by my nickname." They continued in a half grumble, "And most characters named 'Morgan' in the stories back home are antagonists and I didn't want to be seen as a bad person."

Somewhere along the way he forgot that 'Mori' was just a nickname. "Oh." And now he was the only person in this world that knew more than just that nickname.

Mori hummed at his expression and then smirked. "Did you forget I only told you my nickname before?"

"It seems I did." Sinbad had a feeling it would be hard to win against his Beautiful Prophet now that he knew what this feeling was.

The mischievous smile she was showing made him want to give her the world. "In that case, what should I ask for as compensation?" Mori was already putting that boost of greed to good use. "Oh! I know. Since you can't tell the difference between a name and a nickname, let me call you by yours without your title." Her face got more red and her voice more unsure as she said it.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember Mori ever calling him without a title. She'd said his name plainly a few times when talking about him, but never to him. "Of course." It wasn't something he thought needed explicit permission; he was learning just how much Mori requires that to take action.

"Thank you, Sin." Mori had to immediately look away after saying it.

This must be what people mean when they say love turns people into fools. Sin needed to bring Mori to their room before he did something that would definitely make them angry again. Besides, he had to talk to Ja'far asap about Mori's fears of him if they were going to get past this.

--- ~POV Mori~ I was finally alone. My head was swimming from everything that happened as well as the waves. Fate had changed in a major way. Last time was because Sinbad chose a new path. I had a feeling I knew what happened this time, but I was not emotionally capable of accepting that yet.

I really had a PTSD attack, passed out, and when I woke up immediately went into attach and fawn towards the very person that had triggered me. When I told Sin that I was scared of what I might do around Ja'far I wasn't lying, but I also couldn't bring myself to admit to fawning over and attaching to Sin for safety as another repeat stress response.

Damnit. This didn't make any sense. After I broke up with my ex fiancé I had issues because of what happened but I didn't get PTSD from it. This level of reaction seemed to be from something else and only colored by the fear of projecting my ex fiancé on to a partner as I tried to rationalize it.

I got changed and looked out my windows in time to watch Sinbad cross the court yard to the Purple Leo Tower. Watching him only made the ghost of his touch more prominent. Wanting to be held by the person I like shouldn't be confusing. I was the one who asked to be returned to my room so I could be alone and safe enough to think; and yet it was a struggle not to cling to him harder.

((CW2 until end)) I definitely liked Sinbad. The last time I was able to bounce back after being triggered by thinking someone had romantic interest in me was when it was someone I was already crushing on. When I finally recognized that I kept having a PTSD response, and realized that we wouldn't be compatible long term (I can't do long distance), I ended up ghosting the person because I couldn't handle my own feelings and didn't want to hurt him by projecting my ex onto him. The thing that had protected me all this time was knowing that in the canon, Sinbad never falls in love or gets married. As soon as I realized that could change I panicked.

My blood ran cold. That memory of the last time this happened was from 2022. How could I have memories of home from after I entered this world in 2020? I did periodically gain knowledge that I didn't already have. My heart hurt all over again.

The memories of what caused this new trigger finally flooded my mind. Around the start of 2021 I was assaulted by someone I thought was my friend when he finally accepted that I wasn't going to take back my rejection no matter how much time I spent with him. He had a complete breakdown while he pinned me down and admitted to manipulating my family to have access to me. By the end of that year another person I thought was a friend also had a breakdown after spending months refusing to accept that the 'no' I gave her was real. Then in 2022 I realized that someone confessing to me had became a full trigger when I had PTSD attacks to two more people even though they were able to accept 'no.' It had became a compound trauma. ((This is why I went on longer breaks a few times btw))

Time kept moving for the writer/god of this world. They were still experiencing painful things and affecting me along with them. This sucks.

Sinbad's form disappeared into his tower. I felt sick to my stomach. My attraction wasn't going anywhere, and now it looked like he might actually like me back. I have an obligation to stay in Sindria; I can't run away this time. My heart was a broken vase that could no longer hold onto the feelings being poured into it. Any time the vase started to be repaired, I broke it again myself before anyone else could beat me to it just like I did earlier. I'm not one to repeat the same mistake many times once I know where it's coming from. But was Sinbad worth it? He said he wanted to choose a new path. Depending on where this new path went, he would be. And even if he wasn't worth it, I am worthy of healing for myself.

((Hi everyone. The thing about processing trauma is that it can take a long time. Writing this is definitely helping me, but it also means that the posing rate is based on my recovery. I thought I had this chapter done and just needed to do the art when I finished the previous chapter, but in working on the art for it, and working on writing the next arc I realized it was missing something: Mori's/my perspective which is the side where I actually process things. I have many chapters worth of content written for the next arc but there was something wrong with it, and I realized I was avoiding writing my perspective more often and when I did write it I was just filling my time with so much that I didn't have to think about the hard stuff -it's a bad habit that I know I have and am working on.

Even after figuring out what was missing and writing the last scene, I struggled with drawing the harder parts of the chapter. I talked to Lyly about it, and they made me feel better about not having more art throughout.

Anyway, I have no idea how long it will take me to get the next arc done enough that I can start posting. Processing stuff is hard but important and necessary for growth. In the meantime I will be responding to Simpbad Collection Asks, and posting more stuff there including a scene that I couldn't manage to fit before the Sindria Arc, and concept & outfit art. I'll also be going back and rereading what I've posted so far, and fixing any more spelling and grammar mistakes I find. It's been a while since I last did that.

Thank you all for being so patient with me. ))

#magi prophet fanfic #king sinbad #sinbad magi #sinbad x oc #magi sinbad #magi fanfiction #sinbadxoc #magi fanart #living with trauma

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ournosleep69-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Joel Teaches You a Lesson

Pairings: Joel Miller x fem!reader (use of she/her, feminine terms)

Content & Warnings: Smut. 18+. Established relationship, age gap (user is Ellie’s age; 19), humiliation/degradation, unprotected PinV, masochism, sadism, slight mentions of gore and death (y/n kills a clicker), orgasm denial, edging, marking, petnames, sweet aftercare, fluff, dacryphilia, glossaphilia, dom!joel, protective joel, creampie, yelling, ruined orgasm.

Word Count: 5.9k

Summary: Y/n does something reckless, Joel finds out. Punishment awaits.

A/N: I didn’t write this one with zero sleep, so I think this one’s a little bit better than the last. Feel free to leave suggestions. Happy reading!! <3

In the freezing embrace of a snowy morning in Jackson, you awaken due to the shining sun practically spearing through your sheer curtains. Rising with the first light, you meticulously prepared for the day ahead, indulging in a refreshing shower and savoring a quick breakfast. Embarking on patrol alongside Ellie, her animated account of a vintage action film captivated her, shielding her from noticing the sight of Joel's green flannel gracing your form beneath the soft layers of your coat. You were grateful she hadn’t noticed, and you’d be lying if you said the idea of Ellie finding out what her best friend and father-like figure were doing together behind closed doors didn’t excite you a tiny bit.

“Dude, so there’s, like, ten guys and they’re just..fucking going at it an- are you listening?” With a deep furrow in her brow, Ellie playfully snapped her fingers in front of your face, demanding your attention. The two of you traversed the well-worn creek trails, the weight of the heavy hunting rifles in your hands serving as a constant reminder of the purpose of your walk this morning.

“Sorry- what?” You ask, offering a sheepish smile in apology.

Ellie huffs and tucks a piece of auburn hair behind her right ear and then nudges your side with her elbow. “You’ve been spacey all morning. What gives?”

You can’t answer, though, because the sound of a twig snapping in the distance calls your attention. You’re both immediately on high alert, holding the forestock of your rifles tightly. The slow heartbeat in your chest is steadily increasing, and the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention.

“The fuck was that?” You ask in a slightly panicked voice, already starting to push past the tree branches and bushes to walk in the direction of the sound. It’s a dumb idea, running into something like that. And you knew that.

Behind you, Ellie’s lush green eyes widen with concern and worry. Her canvas sneakers pound on the iced-over crunchy snow as she races over to you. No way in hell she’d let you fight off an infected on your own…if it even was an infected.

“Dude, what the hell are you-”

In a swift motion, you dismissively wave your hand, urging the girl to maintain absolute silence. The sudden snap of yet another twig sets your instincts into high gear, propelling you to swiftly track the sound's origin. With determination, you navigate through the tangle of undergrowth, pushing your way through a compact bush, until your eyes behold the sight that awaited you.

A clicker.

Its vibrant orange and green, jagged protective plates make for a haunting sight which is only enhanced by the reflection of the melted snowflakes running down them. The clicking rumbling deep from its chest grows louder and louder as it senses a nearby human. You.

You’re scared. But at the same time you know this could be the chance you’ve been waiting for. A chance to prove yourself to Ellie. She’s always the one to take out infected on these patrols, the one to protect you. So for once, you decide to be the hero.

This is stupid. Am I really about to do this?

Yes.

Ellie can’t even try to stop or persuade you from doing what you’re about to do. Calling out to you will only serve as a death sentence, and using the rifle when you haven’t checked the rest of the trail may lead to unwanted attention.

You slowly reach for something tucked in the back pocket of your jeans - an old pocket knife - and grip the tang tightly in your left hand. Your fingers brush over the spine of the small blade, just a small hint of just how sharp the damn thing is.

Your footsteps are quiet when you sneak behind the clicker. Adrenaline is pounding through your veins. For a second you think of stopping and just shooting it, but you still want to play the hero. Its screech echoes about the clearing in the woods, only met with the heavy and chilling winter wind that fills your ears.

It’s all almost under control. You almost bury the blade deep within the clicker’s neck. It almost bleeds out and falls to the floor writhing in agony. But it doesn’t.

It hears you. It hears you and it turns around, throwing out its arms and clicking directly in your face. The smell of fungus and rotting flesh swirls in your nostrils, but it’s one you’re all too familiar with in the world you’ve grown up in. Your screams are cut off when it suddenly jumps and tackles you to the ground, rolling you both around in the snow. The tight hold you have on the knife slips and it clatters to the snow-filled ground.

“Shit!” Yells Ellie, rushing forward to try and help you out of this dangerous situation.

You’re too busy quite literally fighting for your life, kicking and squirming to get out from under the infected being above you. Its yellowed teeth chomp and snap at your face with hungry fervor, looking for an opening to pry the skin off of your face.

Right before its teeth do end up making contact, Ellie stabs the monster’s temple with the sharp edge of her switchblade. The clicker’s body begins to twitch while pained, strangled clicks rumble from deep within. It collapses on top of you, its body pressing heavily into your own, essentially pinning you down into the cold snow.

With one sharp kick from Ellie, the body rolls off and you’re free to stand up. You don’t even have to glance for more than a second to see the pissed off expression on her freckled face.

“Dude, what the fuck was that?!” She punches your arm a bit too hard while you’re brushing your jeans and coat off from the dirt, snow, and blood. It causes you to teeter for a moment but you quickly regain your balance.

“Ow- jeez, El. I was just trying to take it out,” you sigh heavily, bending down to grab your rifle and pocket knife; both of which you dropped during your battle. The blade folds in and you tuck it back into your pocket all while still catching your breath and ignoring the pain radiating in your left bicep.

“That was some seriously stupid bravery.”

“Yeah..that- uh. Sorry. Don’t let anyone know about that, alright? That’s suuuper fucking embarrassing.” You try to laugh and play it off as a joke but you can’t disguise the hint of seriousness in your tone. If Joel found out about how reckless you’d been...you shudder even thinking about it. It’s like you can already hear him telling you to ‘bend over’ in your mind, and it’s enough to make your cheeks flush. Thankfully it’s covered up as just from being out in the cold.

“I won’t, I won’t,” she snorts, seemingly less mad and now more amused at your dumbass-ery, “that was pretty dumb though. You can’t even deny it.”

You both laugh, but yours sounds a bit forced because of the slight nervousness growing in your stomach. If Ellie told Joel how you’d tried to fight a Clicker in an act of foolish confidence, you’re thoroughly fucked. Figuratively and literally.

“Now can we please get out of here?” Asks Ellie while she leans forward to dust some fallen snowflakes from your shoulder. You only nod in response…then you’re both on your way to complete the trails.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

Around fifteen minutes have passed since you and Ellie got back in Jackson after patrol. Your cold hands are being warmed by cozy licks of flame from the fireplace in front of you while Ellie bullshits in the kitchen with Joel.

She didn’t think to question why you wanted to go to Joel’s as soon as you were in the confines of the settlement, and it‘s not suspicious since she’s close with him as well. If only Ellie knew what you two did together…what you two were together.

But all those thoughts are gone the moment a gruff, baritone voice whispers into your ear, the warm breath caressing the shell of your ear and sending jolts of electricity down your spine,

“I missed ya’, sweet girl. That mine?” Joel murmurs, his larger and calloused hand slipping down until it’s resting on your side, tickling you over your shirt in its wake. You’re no longer wearing the coat, just his flannel from this morning. It still smells like him.

Your cheeks fill with a familiar heat as you peer up at him through your lashes, giving a childlike giggle at being caught by your boyfriend.

“Yeah..I hope you don’t mind. It was just there and-”

The fingers dip down and brush against your hip bone in seductive strokes. He knows what he’s doing. “No. ‘S all right, ‘s cuter on you anyway.”

You shift in your seat on the worn leather armchair, trying to ignore the pooling feeling from between your thighs. It’s utterly insane what this man’s voice can do to you alone.

“Sooo..” Ellie’s voice rang out from the kitchen, her back turned to both of you, “did you guys wanna watch Return of The Living Dead? We could use a shitty zombie movie…especially with the patrol we had..?”

Ellie whips her head over to you as she giggles, completely oblivious to what Joel had just been doing to your body a few short seconds ago. His hand quickly retreats when he hears her words.

“Whaddya mean, kiddo? Somethin’ happen?” Asks Joel innocently, cocking his head to the side like that of a curious puppy’s. He’s even got the pretty, brown doe eyes to go with it, and they never fail to make you swoon and your heart to race just a little bit quicker than usual.

“Oh, nothing-” You start to chime in to save yourself from any anger on Joel’s side, but he’s quick to raise a finger to silence you.

“Nah, what happened out there, Ellie?”

“She tried to fight off a clicker with a knife. Like an idiot.” Ellie laughs softly, clearly finding nothing but humor in the situation. You want to tell her to shut up, but it’d only be met by her asking why you were so nervous, then that would lead to you getting all weird and suspicious. It’s just not worth it, you decide.

Then you can see it. The gears turning in Joel’s head. The way his posture straightens and his sharp jaw ticks. The slight flare of his nostrils. Shit. Shit. Shit. Joel slowly turns to face you, giving you a warning look.

“Ellie, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Joel abruptly asks in a cold voice, his gaze never leaving your own. Your heart’s already racing.

A confused expression falls over Ellie’s face, and she opens her mouth to protest.

“Dina ‘prolly needs ya’ or somethin’. Go see.” He mutters.

“No way! You look pissed. I wanna see-”

“Now.”

It’s the dumbest, worst thought of excuse to get Ellie out of his home, but she listens anyway. With one last weary look towards you, she shrugs and heads for the door. Her auburn hair is the last thing you see before the front door shuts tight and you’re left alone with Joel.

“What was she talkin’ about? Tell me right now or so help me god..” Joel warns, kneeling down on the carpeted floor so he’s at your same level as you sit in the chair.

“It was nothing-” You swallow thickly, feeling anxious yet turned on under his watchful, angry chestnut eyes. Your leg begins to bounce nervously up and down against the floor.

“It was not no god damn nothin’! What the hell happened out there?”

“She already said.”

“I wanna hear it from you, girl.”

Joel’s face leans forward, so close you can see the scar on his nose. Without even blinking, his right hand climbs onto your thigh and slides up your stomach, over the soft globes of your breasts, and stops when it’s finally wrapped around your throat in a firm hold.

“I t..I tried to- to kill a clicker. I thought I could sneak up on it!” You’re quick to protest, shaking your head and vehemently defending yourself as much as your trembling voice will allow.

His fingers tighten around the sides of your neck ever-so-slighty; it’s not cutting off your air flow, but it’s just on the precipice.

“And tell me why you were tryin’ to be so fuckin’ brave, princess.” The southern accent mixed with the acidity of the anger dripping from his tongue only serves to excite and scare you more. This has happened so many times, but it never gets old. And you don’t think it ever could.

“I wasn’t- wasn’t thinking..’m sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t fuckin’ cut it. What if you were bitten? Huh? The fuck would I do then? You never fuckin’ learn, do you, you goddamned idiot.”

Those words were harsh coming from Joel, a lot harsher than usual. You get the sense you’ve majorly fucked up this time, and it won’t go unpunished, that’s for sure. The sudden pit in your belly urges a lump to form in your throat.

With his hand still grasping you, he growls out the words, “Stupid fuckin’ little girl. Think she can do what she wants.”

“I’m sorry..” You whisper, biting the inside of your cheek harshly so the waterworks don’t surface and make an appearance.

“What did I just tell you, girl? You know better and yet you’re out here actin’ like you’re goddamned invincible. The hell is wrong with ya’?”

The fingers wrapped around the base of your neck shake you lightly as if he’s trying to knock some sense into your head. You can’t hold it in anymore, and that’s when the tears start to build behind your half-opened lids. They slowly creep down your cheeks as you fight a tiny sob.

“Aw, darlin’...did I make ya’ cry?” Joel’s expression softens, but his jaw is still clenched tightly - as are his fingers. He asks this in a condescending tone, knowing damn well he’s the one making you cry and feel small.

“Pumpkin, ‘s alright. I like when those tears run down your pretty little face.” The hand leaves your throat and brings his index finger to brush against one of your tears. You watch on in awe when he brings the finger to his mouth and laps it away with his thick tongue. Even upset, you feel your pussy clench around nothing inside of your jeans from the erotic sight.

“Now let’s go. I ain’t lettin’ you off on a warning this time. You knew the damn rules.”

The Texan stands up and strides in the direction of the bedroom down the hall. Your stomach drops, but you shakily rise from the chair and follow behind him. You feel so small under his touch, his gaze, his height, his everything.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

The room looks much cleaner than how you and Joel left it last night. The bed is made, his clothes no longer litter the floor, and there’s no longer a pillow tucked behind the headboard.

“You know the drill,” Joel prompts once you’ve shut the door and turned to face his giant form, “clothes off. Slowly, I wanna see ya’ take your time.” He commands.

It’s no use trying to get out of this, out of whatever he has planned for you. His jaw is still set and there’s still that cold glare in his stare. Joel wants you to undress.

Your hands slowly slide down your body and grip the hem of his flannel, pulling it up and over in a languid manner; even though this is going to be hell for you, you can’t help but tease him nonetheless. The shirt drops to the floor, revealing your basic yet sexy white bra.

The jeans are next. You notice Joel’s stare, his eyes glazed over in a look of lust and anger. He’s a man of few words, but that doesn’t stop him from owning and dominating you the way he does. Your hands are a little quicker to grab at the button of your pants.

“Slower.” Growls Joel, now crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, shoulders squared back.

You nod weakly, unbuttoning them steadily. The zipper is slid down next, the fly opening and revealing your matching colored panties. There’s undoubtedly a wet spot on the cotton fabric, and it’s only getting worse. The jeans are then rolled down and kicked off, leaving you dressed so lewdly.

“Good girl. What’d you do wrong? I want ya’ to tell me while I touch you. And start from the beginnin’.”

In a matter of seconds, you can feel Joel’s body heat behind you, warming your bare back, legs, thighs, and neck. It’s like the fireplace you’d been sitting in front of earlier, only this is a different kind of heat. It’s a lustful, primal heat.

“We..we were out on patrol and..” Your breath catches in your throat when both of his strong hands travel up from your thighs to your hips. He squeezes lightly; not enough to hurt you, but enough to show you that strength that he can use if he so chooses. He could break you, and he gets off on that. It’s evident when his semi-hard cock presses against your lower back.

“And?” Joel croaks out, feeling you start to tremble as you become similar to malleable clay within his hands.

“We…I heard a- a noise and we..” The tips of his olive-toned fingers dip into the elastic waistband of your panties, brushing over the little bit of pubic hair you have. In an attempt to keep from sucking in a sharp breath, you bite your tongue and try to continue the story.

“..I checked it out. It, ah..w-was a clicker. It didn’t notice us an- oh god..”

Your words and coherent thoughts quickly flee from your mind once his right index finger ventures down until it’s prodding between your slick folds, feeling how wet you’ve become from this alone. Joel could feel your hips almost instinctively buck up against his fingers, trying to somehow bring pressure to your swollen clit.

“Keep. Goin’. I wanna hear it all, Pumpkin. You ain’t done. And keep fuckin’ still.”

“I grabbed my- my- Joel, I can’t..” You mewl breathlessly, enjoying the touch when his finger shifts back and begins to rub light circles over that sensitive nub you so wanted him to touch.

“You’re not cummin’ ‘til I hear what you gotta say, girlie.”

“But Joel-”

“Get to talkin’.”

This is absolute brain-numbing torture, and you hadn’t even started yet. This is only the beginning and it’s going to get much better and worse as time goes on. His finger continues its teasing, even slipping where it was to slide inside of your tight, velvety walls. You whine out and clench your cunt around his finger, needing something much bigger inside.

“Fuuuck…we..I snuck up be- behind it and tried to g- get it with my knife..”

“Mm.” A simple grunt in response is all you’re going to receive in terms of vocalization. Painfully slowly, he starts to pump that finger in and out of your sopping cunt, intent on working you up and teasing further. It’s working, your body is heating up and begging for more of his touch.

“It j- it jumped on me..had to- Ellie had to- kill…it..”

His finger slides out and leaves your underwear, leaving a wet trail of your juices up your stomach. He’s obviously not done with you. Not even close.

Your body is instantaneously gripped hard from both sides, and you find yourself being tossed to the bed like a ragdoll. The top half of your body is pressed face down into the mattress while your legs are hung over the edge of the bed so you’re bent over it. The anticipation consumes you as you grasp for purchase on the bedsheets.

“Joelll..” You whine.

“Shut it, princess. I’m not too happy with ya’ right now.”

Heavy footsteps from Joel’s boots get closer and closer to your wound up body from behind. His now fully erect dick is sat between the cheeks of your round ass, but isn’t quite making contact because of your underwear and his jeans.

The sides of your white underwear are grabbed and pulled down in one swift motion so they’re bunched around your ankles.The wetness of the fabric brushes against your calf, making you shudder.

“I’m gonna make sure you don’t run off and do somethin’ stupid like that again. You got that, little girl?” With that, your inner thighs are taken into his rough hands and parted, the sensations of different skin textures feeling ever so welcomed. Your mound is exposed to him in all its intimate glory, your slick starting to seep out onto your upper thighs.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy, baby. ‘S a shame it belongs to such a stupid thing like you, eh?” Joel chuckles huskily. As much as you want to be annoyed with his degradation, you can’t be. It’s one of the hottest things to leave his lips, and it makes you feel so, so dirty inside and out. You crave it.

Your plush lips form an ‘o’ when Joel’s body shifts behind you. The heat of his mouth teases your throbbing, aching heat and creates a warm feeling that makes the desperate need increase by tenfold. Your mind is foggy, only visions of Joel fucking you senseless flooding your every waking thought.

The rough and scratchy, silver-streaked beard of his scrapes the soft meat of the back of your thigh, and you know he’s so close to eating you out. To giving you what you need.

“I’m gonna eat you out nice and slow, Pumpkin. And you ain’t gonna cum, not yet. Understood?”

You don’t even have time to respond before his open mouth attaches itself to your soaking wet pussy. A soft but surprised moan escapes your lips as your fingers clench hard onto the sheets to the point that your nails are digging through to your palms. The urge to push your hips back and facefuck him is strong, but you refrain.

Joel’s hot, wet tongue slides from his mouth and slips between your puffy lips. He’s tasting you, his own brown eyes closing in bliss while he groans into your cunt.

“Joel..!” The pleasure is already overwhelming. You’re so fucking turned on, you need this. And you need it badly.

“Quiet. This ain’t for your pleasure. ‘S for mine.”

That tongue of his pushes deeper between your folds, nuzzling into them with his nose and mouth. You’ve never had him eat you from the back, but it’s a feeling you can’t even begin to describe. The tip flicks against your swollen clit, earning an involuntary eye roll from you.

“Taste so fuckin’ good f’me. So damn sweet.” As he’s sucking and lapping at your sensitive bud, his hands move from the backs of your thighs to your ass cheeks. The older man kneads and squeezes the round globes in perfect time with his tongue-flicking. Lewd sounds of him noisily pleasuring you plus your loud moans fill the bedroom, leaving space for nothing else.

It might be because you’re wound up. Maybe it’s because you were worked up before you’d even gone on patrol. Either way, you know your orgasm is quickly approaching once that familiar pressure builds up in your lower abdomen. Your pussy muscles start to squeeze and contract around nothing as if it's got a mind of its own while your legs threaten to buckle and twitch.

“Please- oh fuck, please-” You cry out, your body starting to shake with every tantalizing move that brings you closer and closer to climax.

And then just as quickly as the build-up started, it fades away when Joel pulls his mouth away. You glance behind you to see Joel’s mouth and chin coated in your slick. He’s got a dark smile on his lips.

“What’d I say, princess? This ain’t for you. You ain’t cummin’. Not until I want ya’ to.”

“But Joel-! You said-”

“And you said you’d be safe on patrol. Guess we’re both liars now, ain’t we? Now turn around.” Joel chuckles, getting up from the floor and starting to unbuckle his dark brown leather belt.

You groan and gasp, too weak and jelly-like to move. With a little..rough..assistance from Joel, you’re turned around and fully laid on the bed.. He wastes no time climbing on top of you and gripping both cups of the white bra you’re still wearing, fingers digging into the soft and squishy fabric.

In a moment of intense strength, Joel pulls them apart without much effort. The bra splits open down the middle, revealing your breasts to the hungry man above you.

“Oh, look at you..” He croons, starting to grope at your tits while his fingers roll and pinch your nipples until they’re hardened peaks ready to be admired. His lips quickly find your cleavage and start to leave featherlight kisses down between them, earning another moan from you. Each touch is like a burst of fireworks in your body.

“So fuckin’ eager for me to punish you. That is, princess? Want this old man to fuck ya’ until you’re beggin’ to cum on my cock?”

Joel’s hard dick is straining against the fabric of his jeans, pressed snugly against your bare cunt. You catch yourself starting to shift your hips, chasing that friction. He’s too busy to care about that right now.

With a hoarse groan on his end, those soft, hot lips of the Texan’s venture back up until they’re fully pressed against your own in an aggressive, passionate kiss. That tongue, that damn tongue, slips between your lips without asking for entrance. Your tongues roll and battle for dominance, but it’s an easy fight for Joel. His left hand reaches up to grip your hair and keep you in place while he pulls away.

There’s a string of saliva connecting you two, wetting your chin a bit as his face then nuzzles into your neck. A new, sharp sting causes your body to jolt at attention, and you can tell Joel’s biting at the soft flesh at the base of your neck down to your collarbone.

“Everyone’s gonna know I’m the only one fuckin’ you. The only one stretchin’ that tight little pussy.”

Joel buries his nose along the hollow of your throat while he gathers your sweet, natural musk. The tousled, graying brown hair at the top of his head tickles just underneath your chin while he continues to mark your skin with deep red splotches that’ll form into hickeys any second.

“M- mhm..all- all yours..” You mewl loudly, your back dipping and arching in the pleasurable pain from Joel’s sharp teeth.

“That’s right, baby girl. I still ain’t gonna forgive you yet, though.” God, this man is relentless to you.

“Now,” he suddenly shifts back, sitting between your thighs while his strong, veiny hands move to his half-undone belt. It’s briskly pulled off and tossed to the floor before he’s already reaching to step out of his jeans. The button unsnaps and the zipper falls, the jeans already being yanked off and dropped right next to the belt. That thick, hard cock is visible through Joel’s boxers, but you don’t have time to admire them because those are quickly rolled off too.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ take me and I’m not preppin’ you. You hear? I don’t care if you’re gonna be a whinin’, bitchin’ mess. Spread those pretty legs, pumpkin.” It’s a mix of stern yet loving yet angry from earlier events.

On command, your thighs open up once you reveal yourself to him again.

“Jesus Christ, that’s so fuckin’ hot.”

Joel’s hips press to yours, his left hand coming to grab the headboard to keep himself stable. His right hand grips his cock, which is beading with pre-cum, and starts to stroke it languidly. The pre is spread along the head and shaft when he uses his palm to rub it along. Meanwhile, you can only look up at the beast of a man with pleading eyes, desperate for him to be inside you. You don’t care if it’ll hurt..if anything, you crave the burning sensation when he stretches you out.

Without warning, the tip of his dick is slapped teasingly against your aching, dripping mound. Joel begins to move again, gathering slick onto his length so he can slip in with ease despite not preparing you to take him in. You gasp and catch your bottom lip between your teeth, too messed up and blissed-out from what you’ve received so far to so much as utter a single sentence.

“I need…need you..” The voice is so small and strangled that you can hardly believe it came from your own body. The need and lust has completely overridden every coherent thought and word from your brain. It’s like you're drunk on his cock and you haven’t even felt it inside yet.

“Yeah? Hold on tight then.”

With that, Joel pulls back and harshly slams into you, his cock spearing your cunt and filling you up completely. There’s a searing pain where he’s stretching you out with the thickness alone, and his name leaves your lips like it’s the only thing you know. And right now, it is.

“Oh, fuuuck. There it is…s’ so tight..you’re gonna fuckin’..take alla’ it.” He rasps, his right hand gripping your shoulder so tightly his fingernails are leaving crescent shaped marks into the flesh.

“N-No- wait..wait..” You whimper, trying to stop him from thrusting so you have time to adjust.

But he doesn’t care.

“I ain’t waitin’. Not for this. You didn’t listen on patrol, I ain’t listenin’ to your cries.” He reminds you.

Hard, deep thrusts start to shake your body, the tip of his cock occasionally slamming against your cervix and creating whitehot pleasurable pain that presumably leaves bruises deep inside.

The unrelenting assault on your soft, tight walls makes you cry and beg, nails searching to grab onto anything to keep yourself stable and in the moment while he ruts into you over and over. Your breasts bounce with every movement, which is a sight you can tell Joel enjoys, evident by the hungry expression on his face.

“You wanna be such a bad little slut, dontcha? Don’t. Wanna. Fuckin’. Listen.” Every word in the last sentence is punctuated by a thrust when he drives himself into you.

“J- Joel! Pleaseee…” The pleasure is making your head hit the pillow, your toes to curl, and a thin sheet of sweat to build above your browline.

“Bad girls who..ah, fuck..” He croaks, getting cut off by a wave of pleasure crashing over his own body. You swear you can even hear a…whimper as his dark eyes roll into the back of his head.

“..girls who don’t..listen- they get their holes..fuckin’ used. Just like this, princess.”

There it is again. That build-up in the bottom of your stomach. Your orgasm is once again approaching, and you’re hoping he’ll finally let you get your release.

Joel must’ve noticed your fucked-out state, because he smiles deviously and slams back into you.

“What? Y’ wanna cum? Wanna cum while I’m poundin’ into ya’?”

“Ye- Yes- Joel, please!” You yell. There’s no holding back, you needed this. Your hands reach up and cling themselves into his mop of brown hair, burying your fingers into it while you whine and garble underneath him.

“If that’s what ya’ want..” You don’t notice the devilish gleam in his darkened doe eyes, you’re too caught up in the relief of knowing you’re going to be able to cum. As his thrusts and grunts continue, two thick fingers slide down towards your heat and delve between your sensitive folds. The fingers move away and are replaced with the calloused pad of his thumb pressing harshly against your throbbing clit.

“M- Fuck!” It’s almost too much; Joel’s pounding into you paired with his thumb not letting up courses sparks of indescribable pleasure radiating through your body. Your orgasm builds and builds and builds until..

“I’m not rewardin’ you today.”

Joel starts to swirl his thumb quickly around your already super sensitive nub instead of slowly and gently. The wave of ecstasy you’d been waiting for and pining over crashes over you for just a split second and that usual over-sensitivity takes over before you could even enjoy it. The orgasm was fast and ruined and you fucking hated it.

A sense of frustration fills your senses while you glare daggers up at Joel, who’s still moving and holding tightly to your body until there’s red handprint marks left all over your hips, chest, and thighs. You grunt and furrow your brows at him.

“You mad, princess? Too…too fuckin’ bad. You’re so fuckin’ adorable..”

Joel’s then holding you down onto the bed while he fucks into you with reckless abandon, using you like his own personal fleshlight until he’s ready to shoot his load deep inside of you. Of course it’s not long before his movements are losing their rhythm. They begin to stutter and twitch as his cock throbs while you’re wrapped around him.

“Ohh, shit, princess…’m gonna cum so fuckin’- so fuckin’ hard. ‘S gonna fill you up ‘til you’re leakin’.”

One thrust. Two thrusts. A third, final roll of his hips emits an animalistic groan from the rough southern man as he shoots thick ropes of his semen to paint your soft insides. You feel the hot substance spilling into you, and you can’t help but let out a moan despite your anger towards your boyfriend right now.

His softening cock doesn’t pull out even as he’s caught his breath and laid atop you. You’re being crushed by his body, but you don’t mind.

“You’re…an asshole..” You mutter, voice muffled from Joel’s sweaty shoulder pressed to your lips.

“Love ya’ too, sugar. Maybe now you’ll fuckin’ listen when I tell ya’ to start bein’ safe.” It’s obvious Joel’s being genuine right now, with his voice soft yet still hoarse from the sex while his southern twang rings in your ears.

You can’t stay mad at this man, can you?

“I ain’t tryin’ to be a dick. I just…want you safe. That so hard to ask for? Ya’ don’t needa be a hero, kid.”

“I know..”

“What’d we learn?” He whispers in your ear, hand coming up to roll a few strands of your hair between his fingers in a loving way. His flaccid cock is still inside of you, but it’s oddly..comforting.

“Not to…be reckless..”

“Good girl.” A soft kiss is pressed to your forehead, nothing like a kiss you’d felt from the Joel from earlier. It’s a tender one, meant to comfort you. At the end of the day, all he wants is for you to be safe. Hell, he hates you even just going on patrol.

“I love you. You know that, dontcha?”

“I know. I love you too..”

You both lay there, curled up in each others’ warm embrace. As much as Joel likes to torture you when you’ve been ‘bad’, you know he loves you. Even if he sucks at words and feelings, the love in those eyes says enough.

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