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jeankluv · 1 day

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But daddy I love him - Satoru Gojo [ch.05]

short series

summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

tags: 18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n, mention of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, character death, nightmares

words: 5,2k

Notes: enjoy this last chapter, just know that the epilogue still needs to happen 💋

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

Your gaze was on the window, you had barely moved a muscle since the sun had risen. But it had been like that since your father read that letter. You didn't know how much time had passed, you had stopped counting, the only thing you knew was that summer was coming to an end. Was it September? You didn't know, nothing mattered to you anymore.

You knew Rose was in the room, despite everything she still came and took care of you. Every morning she was there, trying to cheer you up and make you smile again, to pick up one of your books, to go to the market with her.

The only time you got out of your bedroom was when Mr. Harrison visited. You felt nauseous when seeing him and when he talked about how excited he was to take you with him to his house and finally have an heir. You felt sick to your stomach, but you stood there in silence, feeling how your heart didn’t beat anymore.

“My lady…” Rose whispered. “You need to take the herbs.”

You turned your head and looked at Rose. “Don't you think that if there was a baby, that baby is no longer there?”

Rose grimaced and sat up on the bed. “I don't know, my lady. But your mother insists that she keep drinking it until you bleed again.” You just nodded and took the glass from her hands.

You felt the bitter taste pass through your throat and the unpleasant smell invade your nostrils. It was so unpleasant that your eyes watered and a gag shot up your throat. You closed your eyes tightly and swallowed.

“I know you don't want to hear this…” Rose whispered. “But the wedding is in three days.”

“You won’t come with me right.” You raised your knees and rested your forehead on them.

“No, my lady.” You could notice the anguish and sadness in her tone. “Mr. Harrison doesn't want anyone from the house to accompany you, he will provide you with maids in his house."

You closed your eyes and nodded. “You can leave now Rose.”

“My lady… please eat something.” She said walking towards the door.

You heard the door open and then close. You sighed heavily and lay back down on the bed, looking again at the blue sky outside. No matter how much you thought about Satoru, you had a hard time believing, you had a hard time accepting that everything had been a hoax. That you had been manipulated by him.

Maybe it was the fault of your heart, the fault of falling in love the way you did for that man with white hair and crystalline eyes. Maybe it was all your fault and you should never have given him your heart the way you gave it to him.

But his voice and his words echoed in your head.

Trust me.

We will live in a house by the sea, you will have your own library.

I don’t plan on hurting you.

His memory was fresh in your mind and the pain was intense.

You rolled over yourself and you cowered between the sheets, mulling over the matter. The letter talked about some documents, something about the nobles. Satoru told you about it, how your family and a few others had refused the king's reform proposal 20 years ago and had paid for it. And some time later Satoru's parents had been murdered and Satoru's brother had spent his entire life investigating to clarify the facts and they had taken him to your family.

There was something that didn't quite fit you in that whole matter and that is, if Satoru was thinking of betraying you from the beginning, why did he tell you the plan he had in the middle? Maybe he thought you were going to be extremely stupid not to say anything.

You shook your head and tried to remember the last encounter between the two of you.

“I told you.” He said with a smile. “Before you finish your second book I will be back.”

“I trust you.” You whispered.

“Just… believe me.”

Were those promises empty? You stood up from the bed and walked around your room, feeling your body aching and heavy.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that Satoru knew something was happening. And that’s why he looked like that the last time you saw him.

Covering yourself with a thin jacket, you left the room and walked looking for a specific figure. If Rose was your most trusted person in that house, that person was the second most trusted.

When your eyes met his straight figure and his gaze looking straight ahead, you smiled and approached him.

“Nanami.” You whispered causing his head to turn in your direction.

“My lady.” He said, bowing his head subtly to show her respect.

“Nanami, I need your help. But first walk me to my room.” You turned around. “I don't want anyone to hear us.” You walked, feeling Nanami's footsteps on your back.

When you got to your room, you made sure that no one was in the hallway and you closed the door. You walked to the couch and looked at Nanami.

"I need you to do me a favor." Nanami nodded slightly. “I have a feeling that something happened to Duke Gojo and I would like you to check it out. You and Rose are the people I trust the most, which is why I want to entrust you with this mission.”

“I will gladly do it my lady.” He said bowing.

“But before you leave, my parents are gone, right?” Nanami nodded and you felt your heart accelerate at the idea that had been established in your mind. “I need you to accompany me to my father's office and watch the door while I look for something.”

“No problem my lady.” You smiled and thanked him.

Waiting for a while to pass, you and Nanami left the room, trying not to be seen by any curious eyes. As you stood in front of the door of your father's office, you felt your heart pound and your nerves begin to attack your body. You took a breath and looked at Nanami, who nodded giving you the signal to enter.

Nanami stayed outside, keeping watch and preventing anyone else from entering. You moved through the room quietly and carefully, and among the pile of papers and letters that were on the desk you began to search and read, wanting to find something, some clue that would indicate that Satoru had not lied to you, that there was something more behind all that.

You found two letters that caught your attention, one of them had a stamp that you didn't recognize and the other was a letter addressed to your parents. It was a letter from one of the servants informing your parents about how you had been having premarital relations with the duke. You crumpled the letter slightly and sighed, there was nothing you could do about it now.

You took the letter with the unknown seal and began to read, the letter was addressed to your parents and talked about the crown prince and how to change the balance in favor of the person who sent the letter.

“My lady.” Nanami called you. “I think it’s better if we leave.” You nodded.

With that letter in your hands, you left the office followed by Nanami's steps. You felt your heart racing, that letter could mean something. You knew that Satoru was a friend of the crown prince and that your parents had not disagreed with the king's reforms, so this could mean something. But that seal, you didn't know which house it belonged to, nor were the names known.

“Nanami.” You called him when you got to the room and, uncrumpling the letter, you showed it to him. “Do you know this seal?”

You could see how Nanami was stunned looking at the letter. “Was this in his father's office?” You nodded confused. “My lady, if this letter is found by the palace, the entire family will be condemned for treason.”

You opened your eyes surprised. "What? What do you mean?" Nanami sighed and pointed to the seal.

“The seal belongs to the king's brother, that is, to the uncle of the future king.” You looked at him confused, you had never heard of the current king having a brother. “You are young to remember, but the king had a little brother. He was sent into exile after he tried to assassinate the prince. The king took pity on him and did not kill him, he simply exiled him.” You opened your mouth in surprise.

“Did this person have anything to do with the event 20 years ago? Where several noble families opposed the king?” Nanami nodded and you sighed. “Nanami, I fear that the duke knew about this and that something has happened to him.” You looked at him. “Please find out.” Nanami nodded once again.

“I will leave right now my lady.” He bowed his head and left your room.

When the door closed and you were alone in your room again, you sat on your bed and put your hands to your face, terrified to think that something could have happened to Satoru and that your parents knew about it.

It was terrifying to think that Satoru could be… No, no. You shook those thoughts out of your head and tried to think positively. That Satoru hadn't betrayed you and that he would be fine. You just needed Nanami to return and confirm all your suspicions. And you prayed that this would happen before the wedding that would take place in three days.

Lying in bed, you stared at the ceiling, the night darken the room and the accumulated fatigue that you were carrying covered you peacefully. But it was not like that. That night you couldn't rest.

Nightmares tormented you. The image of a dead Satoru haunted you throughout the night, reflecting in your tired eyes every time you closed them. The dreams were vivid and unrelenting, showing you scenes of Satoru lying lifeless, his once vibrant presence reduced to an eerie stillness. You saw his bright blue eyes, usually full of mischief and warmth, now dull and empty. You watched as the confident smile faded, replaced by an expression of eternal peace that brought you no comfort.

You tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around your legs as you struggled to find a way out of the nightmare. Every time you woke up suddenly, your heart would race and your breathing would be difficult. The silence of the room was oppressive and the darkness suffocating, leaving you gasping for air with every breath you tried to take.

You shifted between the sheets when the first rays of the sun began to penetrate through the curtains. A new day began and in your mind and heart there was only the anguish of knowing Satoru's whereabouts and condition. You got out of bed and opened the window, letting the breeze fill the room and the smell of the sea occupy your nostrils.

“My lady?” Rose entered the room with a surprise look on her face.

“Rose…” You smiled at her. “Good morning.”

“My lady, how are you feeling?” She approached you and held your hands with care.

“I am…” You sighed. Not knowing what to respond.

“It’s okay my lady.” She tried to calm you down.

You sat down on your dresser and looked at her through the mirror. “I send Nanami to investigate the whereabouts of the duke.” Rose looked at you, intrigued to know more. “Rose, I think something happened to the duke and I think my parents have been involved.”

Rose swallowed and opened her eyes slightly. “My lady, are you sure?”

You nodded and clenched your fists. “If it's true... and what they did is discovered, the palace will kill us.”

“My lady”

“Rose, we must find some way to leave this place before the wedding, if Nanami does not arrive with news before.”

Rose nodded. “I will be with you my lady.”

You felt your chest fill and your eyes water as you realized you weren't alone. “Thank you Rose, thank you.”

“No problem my lady.” She gave you a warm smile. “But my lady…” You looked at her. “Your parents and Mr. Harrison will be arriving today.”

You sighed. “Alright.”

The morning and part of the afternoon passed faster than you would have liked. Anguish and uncertainty had established themselves in your body, they almost seemed like an extension of you, one that was dragging you down. Your hands were sweaty and your heart rate was fast, having to meet your parents and Mr. Harrison was like putting a noose around you. You were afraid but you wanted to be brave, even if it was for once in your life, you didn't want to tremble.

The carriage carrying your parents and Mr.Harrison arrived and now you looked at your reflection in the mirror while Rose brushed your hair. Your gaze was fixed on your face but at the same time not, you were lost in your own thoughts, trying to find something so that the wedding would be delayed or canceled.

“My lady…” Rose whispered as she let the brush down. “I have an idea that might help us win some time.”

You looked up and looked at Rose through the mirror. "Tell me." Rose leaned close to your ear and whispered her idea to you.

It was crazy but it would be a shock and Mr. Harrison would even want to cancel the wedding. You lightly laughed and looked at Rose.

"Thank you."

“I am here for you my lady.”

You looked out the window and saw how the sun was setting in the sea. You took a deep breath and stood up from the chair. The room was beginning to be illuminated only by the specifically placed candlelight. Asking Rose to wait for you in the room, you left and walked through the hallways, feeling your legs give out with every step you took.

You looked out the window and saw how the sun was setting in the sea. You took a deep breath and stood up from the chair. The room was beginning to be illuminated only by the specifically placed chandeliers. Asking Rose to wait for you in the room, you left and walked through the hallways, feeling your legs give out with every step you took.

The room was filled with the faint smell of old books and ink, a testament to the countless hours spent here studying and negotiating.

Your parents sat on the side of the desk, their expressions a mix of expectation and concern. Mr. Harrison was standing by the window, his back to you as he watched the darkening night. The silence in the room was oppressive, the weight of the impending conversation pressing down on you.

“Just two more days and we will all be family.” Your father proudly smiled.

“Yeah.” Mr. Harrison proudly sat on the chair. “Hopefully a baby will also come soon.” He looked at you and you felt nauseous.

You took a deep breath and stood up in your seat, trying to show a little confidence and strength. “Father, mother, my hand has already been asked for by another man.” You spoke without showing any hint of tremor.

You knew that talking about this in front of Mr. Harrison was not the right thing to do but you had to find some way to escape from this or the wedding would be delayed.

Your mother ground her teeth and said your name in a harsh, cutting tone. "Shut up."

“Darling.” Mr. Harrison called you, with that nickname that ok his lips sounded so disgusting. “Duke Gojo only came here and used you. You really want to marry that boy?”

You clenched your fists and clenched your teeth as you looked at the cynical smile that had spread across his face. Your blood boiled as the atmosphere in the office became increasingly overwhelming and cutting.

You wanted to get out of there but you couldn't, you had to delay that wedding. Or else, in two days you would be damned forever.

“Honey.” Your father spoke, with that false tone that you had already gotten used to hearing. “Mr. Harrison is right, don't you think about the damage that boy has done to us?”

Looking at him you wanted to laugh out of anger and ask your parents if they knew the damage they had caused to you for years and that Satoru had been the only one who had managed to make you feel alive.

Filling your lungs with air you spoke or rather screamed. “But daddy I love him!”

It had been years since you stopped calling your father that, but you knew that if you threw a tantrum in the middle of that place, your parents would be embarrassed and maybe, with luck, Mr. Harrison would put the wedding on hold.

You looked at their faces and could see how your mother was red with rage and your father clenched his teeth tightly.

“Well darling.” Mr. Harrison spoke, cutting the tension in the air. “I’m sure you will grow to love me too.”

You bit your lip and the crazy idea that Rose had proposed crossed your mind. What else could you lose?

“I’m having his baby!” You said out loud.

“What?!” Your mother and father screamed with speechless looks on their faces.

Out of the corner of your eye you looked at Mr. Harrison, who had his mouth slightly open and his face, like your parents', was a poem.

“This…” Mr. Harrison began and slightly smirked. “This is humiliating.” He turned to look at your father. “Did you know?”

“Mr. Harrison, I…” Your father stuttered trying to find some words, but they all got stuck in his throat.

“You stupid bitch.” Your mother approached you and held your arm tightly, you narrowed your eyes, feeling his nails dig into your skin. "Didn't you take the herbs that the doctor prepared for you?"

“Yes mother, apparently they didn’t work.” You smirked.

“You stupid bitch.” She slapped you and your head turned to the side, leaving you breathless.

Stunned by the slap heard how your father tried to reason with Mr. Harrison and how your mother also joined in.

They weren’t hiding anything anymore, how that marriage was going to bring them a large amount of money and how Mr. Harrison was also going to support the king’s brother's return. You smile when you hear those words, it was the confirmation you needed that those letters were real and that most likely there were more.

You left the room and practically ran to your room. Your heart was thundering in your ears and your head hurt from the enormous pressure you felt. It was almost like you were going to pass out before you could get to your room.

Holding onto the doorknob you entered your room and leaned your forehead against the door once you closed it. Trying to make your heart calm down and air return to your lungs.

“My lady…” You heard Rose approaching you from behind.

“Rose I need a minute, but…” You began to talk.

“My lady.” You froze and turned yourself to look at the man that just talked.

“Nanami!” You said breathless and looking at him.

“My lady.” He looked at you, then at Rose and then back at you. He took a deep breath and then you heard his words. “Your suspicions about him were correct, Duke Gojo had an accident when he was heading back here. His carriage failed and he fell down a hillside, all I know is that the Duke is currently under the care of His Majesty the Crown Prince. But I don't know his condition."

When your father read Satoru's supposed letter your heart stopped, but at that same moment you felt like your heart was falling out of your chest. Your breathing accelerated and you began to feel your eyes stinging because of the tears that were accumulating.

“My lady.” Rose caught you when your legs gave out. “My lady, you need to breathe.”

We tried but it was like a foot was pressing on your chest and sinking you into the ground. You held Rose's hands and tried to speak. “We need to go…”

Rose looked at Nanami and they both nodded. “We will leave here as soon as possible, my lady.”

“The letter…” You whispered.

You had to take the letter with you and give it to the king or someone from the palace, you knew that this would mean the death of your parents but those two people were no longer your parents and you wanted to see them sink.

Rose grabbed your arm and the three of you left the room, heading towards the stable. You still felt your emotions on the surface, at any moment you felt like you would break but you shouldn't. You had to stay strong and leave that place and send that letter.

Taking the reins of your horse you raised your gaze and fixed it in front of you. Sighing heavily, you signaled to Nanami, telling him to leave.

Your body was so exhausted that you practically didn't remember much of the trip. You remember stopping to pick up Rose's husband, you remember Nanami telling you to ride with him, and you remember arriving at a lodge where you spent the night, but other than that, your memories were vague and confusing.

When you opened your eyes, you blinked repeatedly, taking in the light that filtered through that window. Rose was still asleep in the bed next to her. Sitting up carefully and quietly, you changed your clothes and left the room, meeting Nanami's figure guarding the door.

“Nanami.” You spoke with your voice still sleepy.

“My lady.” He greeted you with the same courtesy as always.

You chuckled and shook your head. “You don't need to continue behaving like this Nanami, I don't belong to that family anymore.” You smiled at him. “But my last proposal as your lady is that you accompany me to her majesty so I can deliver the letter to her.”

Nanami held your gaze and shook her head. “My lady, if I am still here serving you and accompanying you it is because I trust you completely and my loyalty is yours alone.”

“But…”

“I don't care if you never belong to the family again, I am faithful to you my lady.” He bowed. “And I will follow you.”

You looked at him stunned by the words he just said. “Nanami…”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I will follow you and make sure you meet the duke once again.”

“Thank you…” You whispered, whipping away the tears that had gathered in your eyes. “How long do you think it will take us to get there?”

Nanami thought for a moment, thinking of the shortest and most feasible route for everyone. “Probably in two more days.” You nodded and smiled calmly.

“Good.” You said.

And so once you were all ready you left again, heading towards the capital. You were amazed with each new place you visited, with the people and the landscapes. It was the first time you traveled, since you had always been in your town and had never left there. You didn't know what would happen after delivering the letter and showing them the evidence that the king's brother was still plotting against the crown. If they would also condemn you or what would become of you. You did not know.

You also didn't know if you would be able to meet Satoru. Nanami had told you that he was in the capital, where the palace doctors were treating him but you didn't know if you would be able to see him, but you longed to see him, you longed to touch him again and feel his warmth.

When you crossed the wall that surrounded the capital you felt your heart begin to accelerate and when you began to enter the castle gate to have a reception with the king it accelerated even more. And standing there in front of the king and the prince, you felt like you could faint.

“So…” You began. “His majesty, I’m the only daughter of…” You said your family name and bowed. “I’m here to give you this letter that I found in my father’s office.” You held the letter in your hands. “I believe it’s extremely important for his majesty to know about this information and to take care of it.”

The king nodded and one of his guards took the letter from your hands and brought it to the king. He read it carefully and with a slight frown.

“You say you found this letter in your father's office?” You nodded. “You know what it means right?”

"Yes sir." You said with your eyes downcast.

“Why would you betray your family like that?” He wondered.

You clenched your fists and clenched your lips into a thin line. “Those people were not my family, my family is the ones who have accompanied and supported me on this journey and the man I am looking for.”

The king touched his chin and smiled and then looked at his son who nodded. “Thank you very much for this young lady, the crown will take care of it.”

The crown prince looked at you and smiled. "Follow me please." You looked at Rose and Nanami doubtfully and the prince, noticing it, turned to you. "Don't worry, you can trust me."

You nodded and followed his steps, tightly gripping the pendant you were wearing, trying to calm your nerves. Your eyes roamed every corner of the hallways you walked through, marveling at the details of the walls and ceilings, admiring the paintings of old monarchs that hung on the walls and the large windows that illuminated your entire path. It was like being inside one of your books, where the protagonist toured her spacious palace.

“It must have been a long trip, right?” The prince spoke again, exalting you a little.

“Uh… yeah a little.” You smiled.

“Well now you can rest here as much as you want, I'm welcome.” He smiled at you again and you smiled back. “Oh!” He stopped short in front of a large white door. "We have arrived." He said, taking the knob he opened the door.

His back blocked your view of what was in front of you so you couldn't see well what was inside.

“Look who came to see your injured ass.” The crown prince stepped aside and you finally saw what was in that room, who was in that room.

Your breathing stopped and your heart forgot how to beat when you saw him lying on that bed. His face had the occasional scar that seemed to be healing and his arm was completely bandaged. But it was there, he was there. Satoru was before you, he was alive.

“Angel…” He whispered with his blue eyes looking at you, unblinking.

And that nickname, that whisper was enough to break you down. Crying, you approached the bed and fell next to it.

“I thought…” You tried to speak but words were hard to pronounce.

“I’m so sorry my angel.” He held your hand. “Suguru give my future wife a chair or something!”

“Tsk.” You heard the crown prince. “You know I’m going to be the next king right?”

“And she is going to be my wife, so what?” Satoru replied.

“It’s okay, I…” You tried to speak.

“My lady, here you have a chair.” The crown prince smiled.

“Thank you, his majesty.” You bowed and sat down on the chair.

“I will leave the two of you alone.” The crown prince said and left the room.

“Angel…” Satoru called you.

“I though you died. I thought you left me, I…”

“I’m sorry.” He caressed your hair. “After going on that visit, I planned to take you with me to my house and finally get married. But well, the accident... it left me unconscious for several weeks and when I woke up your engagement to Mr. Harrison had become official and my condition was not the best." He sighed and squeezed your hand lightly. “I wanted to go there, get you out of that place and take you somewhere where I knew you would be happy but…” He touched his leg and smiled. “Suguru, the prince, did not allow me to do anything and I had to resign myself to knowing that the love of my life was not going to be able to be happy.”

You grabbed his hand in your hands and looked into his eyes. “But now I can be happy.” Satoru smiled.

“I didn't tell you at the time and when the accident happened my last thought was how sorry I was for not having told you but I love you my angel. I love you." He said and cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

You closed your eyes, enjoying that kiss that you had longed for so much and you let yourself be enveloped by all the love and affection that Satoru was emanating at that moment.

You had believed that you would never taste those kisses again, that you would never again feel the soft touch of his skin against yours. But there you were, enjoying the love you both felt for each other.

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Satoru…” He hummed in your ear. “Your brother was right.” You looked at him. “I’m sorry my parents were behind your parents death and also behind your…”

“Hey angel.” He made you look at him. “None of that was your fault, you are not like your parents. And soon you will be a Gojo.”

His kiss made all the storms disappear from your heart, and calm was restored, allowing your heart to beat again with serenity and tranquility.

The tumultuous waves of doubt and fear that had threatened to engulf you subsided and were replaced by a deep sense of peace. Her touch, gentle, felt like a soothing balm for a wound you didn't know was so deep. It was as if, in that moment, all the chaos and uncertainty that had plagued you dissolved, leaving only the clear, steady rhythm of love.

Satoru broke the kiss and caressed your face. “Suguru told me that before you ran away from home, Mr. Harrison had called off the engagement or proposed. What happened?"

You smiled slightly. “I told them I was having your baby.” Satoru opened his eyes. “No I'm not.” You clarified. “But you should have seen their faces.”

"I would have loved it." Satoru smiled. “But next time it could be true.” He whispered.

You turned your face. “You must recover first.” You said.

“Angel, we can do a lot of things while we wait for me to recover.” He kissed your shoulder. “A lot of new things you still don’t know.”

You turned your face to look back at him. “Like what?” You had been tempted and Satoru knew it, which is why that smile that had captivated you from the beginning appeared on his face.

Fin

Notes: I can’t believe BDILH is over (the epilogue still needs to happen but still) 😭. The fact that this short series started as a Mikasa one shot, then turned into a dark romance with Sukuna but it ended up being a Gojo short fic bc I’m such a Gojo sucker… But thank you everyone for the likes, the comments and the love.

Also sorry bc this final didn’t have much angel x Satoru but the epilogue will be fully focus on them and just them and it will be 4-5k. But the main story needed a conclusion and didn’t want to extend the chapter too much. I’m quite satisfied with the result and I hope everyone enjoyed it ❤️

— comment if you want to be tagged in the final part

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @satoracyxys @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop @tinydonkeysforlife @oddball08 @tttttttf @crybabytoru @fccxxxcvvx @augustine13028 @alwaysfreakingout

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aroace-poly-show · 6 months

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thinking about glass beach again

#marlo’s stuff #me when here it is again a heart of excitement in the form of a girl who hates her life as she sits alone on the floor of her bedroom #waiting for answers wasting time #and me when no one who loves you should make you feel so unsafe no no one who loves you should make you feel alone #and me when one more sleepless night to laugh about the times we tried to die with heavy eyes i’ll stay awake with you and we’ll keep us #alive when the morning comes #and me when when i’m with you i feel like i’m out of my body we ran out of words to say we’re hopelessly lonely #and me when does it hurt to say you love her like a son?/does it hurt to say you care about your son?#aaaaaaaaaaaa

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theemissuniverse · 8 months

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MK 1 MEN REALIZE YOU’RE TOUCH STARVED

SUMMARY : Basically they’ve been super busy so they hadn’t been worried about sex until they realize how needy you really are. Fem reader.

WARNINGS : (MDNI)! praise, unsafe p in v, riding, cumming, some other stuff I probably forgot

MASTERLIST

LIU KANG

You were practically starving for intimacy. Your boyfriend, Liu Kang had his hands full with Earthrealm itself and you couldn’t even help him.

Liu Kang had forbid you to get involved in Earthrealm business because in the previous timeline, when Raiden brought you in it you had died. So, he wanted you to continue your normal life.

Though, Liu Kang made sure you were a worthy fighter just by the chance that maybe one of his enemies would try and hurt you. You would know how to defend yourself.

It had been weeks, close to a month. Liu Kang was there emotionally but was not there physically. You knew he was busy but god, did you think he wasn’t attracted to you anymore.

You were reading your book in the living room when you heard the door open. You didn’t bother to look up because you knew it was Liu Kang.

Liu Kang locked the door behind him. “Good evening, my love.” He walked over to you and gave you a kiss on the head. “How was your day?”

“Great until you got here.”

You were a very sarcastic individual so Liu Kang just took it as a sign that you were being sarcastic. Liu Kang sat beside you. “Did you eat today?”

Trying not to be annoyed was hard but you were so frustrated that you couldn’t hold it in. You slammed your book shut and got up from the couch. “I can’t even read a book in my own home.” You marched to your room.

Liu Kang now understood you were angry at him. He just didn’t understand why.

When you walked in the room, you shut the door and locked it. Then you turned around and there you faced the Fire God himself. You jumped back, startled. “I hate when you do that.”

“(Y/N), if I’ve done something wrong then you need to open up. We talked about this.”

That was true. Liu Kang did talk to you about you opening up more to him and communicating with him. It was just hard for you because you never really liked talking about your feelings. Especially embarrassing ones.

You sighed and placed the book on your dresser. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so mean to you. I’m just…frustrated.”

Liu Kang gently took your hands in his. “Whatever it is, we can face it together. Tell me what has you so frustrated.”

You bit your lip, not wanting to even look at him. “It’s just…you haven’t really…” You trailed off. Lucky and unlucky for you, Liu Kang was a patient man and he waited for you to say it. “You know…and I just feel touch starved.”

Liu Kang now understood what you meant and he could only smile. “I’m sorry, my love. I did not mean to. I am God and because I’ve been alive for so long, I don’t really have the physical needs as you do.” He brought you closer to his warmth. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you.” Liu Kang gave you a sweet kiss on the lips. “Next time, just ask.”

You smiled shyly. “It’s embarrassing to ask…”

“You should feel comfortable to ask me.”

“Well technically you’re the one that made me so uncomfortable, creator so who’s really at fault here? So ha!”

Liu Kang shook his head and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “You, my one and only, are so strange.”

You were in a panting mess. Liu Kang was on top of you while you laid on your back. Your moans were uncontrollable and you were mad at him again for making you wait so long to feel like this.

Liu Kang watched you pant and he was mad at himself that he made you wait so long to feel this good.

Having sex with a god was always more pleasurable because well, he was a god. It was so much easier to get you to cum. It only took three minutes. Sometimes even two.

“Keep going, love. You’re almost there.” Liu Kang told you.

You made short breaths out as you were close to your release. You felt all around Liu Kang’s chest trying to hold onto something. “Oh, god. Oh Liu. I can’t.”

Liu Kang kissed your lips. He knew that sex with him was ten times more pleasure able than if he were human. “Breathe in and out, my love.” He watched as you took some breaths in and out. He caressed the left side of your face. “You’re doing so good.”

You felt your release close. “I’m so close. Please.”

“I got you.” Liu Kang held onto your thighs and continued to go at his slow and hard pace. “Cum on me, my love.”

You felt the wave of your orgasm wash all over you. Liu Kang didn’t stop until you had came over him completely.

He pulled out of you. Then leaned down to kiss you on your lips. His lips then went to your neck and your shoulder. “Never make me wait that long again.” You told him.

Liu Kang chuckled against kissing your skin. “I won’t, lovely.”

JOHNNY CAGE

You never thought in your life span that you would crave for Johnny Cage but you did. He was your boyfriend now so you should’ve been used to the feeling.

But it had been a whole week. A week that Johnny did not have intimacy with you which you found to be extremely weird. I mean you two would have sex at least five times a week so you could not believe he wasn’t on you.

You had to be the stay at home girlfriend while he made his new movie. You couldn’t even stand being around him anymore because that’s how touch starved you were.

But you were not going to initiate it because he always initiated it and you were not going to give him the satisfaction of how badly you wanted him.

You couldn’t hide your attitude towards him.

You finished making dinner. Johnny was back from work. “Babe! I’m back! It actually was better than yesterday.” He came into the kitchen and set his things on the counter.

Johnny came up behind you and hugged you. He kissed your cheek. “Damn you look hot cooking.”

Yup. You couldn’t hold your attitude back. You pushed his arms off of you. “Clearly, I don’t.” You mumbled under your breath.

He heard you though. He was confused. Of course you were. You were the hottest girl he knew. “What are you talking about, babe?”

You walked away from the stove and got out plates. You set them on the counter. “There’s dinner. I’m gonna take a nap.”

You walked into the bedroom and were about to close the door behind you but Johnny was too fast for you.

Johnny forced the door open and you rolled your eyes at him. You started walking over towards the bed, fixing the sheets while he stood in the doorway. “What’s up with you? Did I do something?”

“It’s what you didn’t do.”

Johnny looked at you completely confused. You were mad that he didn’t do something? “Baby, you gotta help me out here because I’m lost.”

You angrily folded the sheets before turning to look at him. “Are you cheating on me?”

Johnny’s eyes went wide at the accusation. “What?” He stepped closer in the room to close some of the distance. “(Y/N), I’m not cheating on you. What could possibly make you think that?”

You scoffed at him and you turned your attention back on the bed. “I highly doubt that thee Johnny Cage can go a week without having sex.”

That’s when Johnny put the puzzle pieces together. He laughed a little. “Babe, seriously?” He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. “Aw, I knew you wanted some of this Johnny Cage.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed him off of you. “No. I don’t. I’m just stating it’s weird.”

“(Y/N), I’ve just been busy with the movie. Nothing weird has been going on. I promise.” He went back behind you and wrapped his arms once again around you. He started to kiss your neck. “If you wanted me, you could’ve just said something.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s embarrassing.”

Johnny turned you around so you were facing him. He gave you an amused look. “Oh? So it’s embarrassing when I ask you all the time?”

You crossed your arms at him. “That’s different. You’re a man.”

“(Y/N). Just get your sexy ass in the bed.”

He watched you as you could barely ride him. It amused him a little. You were begging to have him but you were in too much pleasure to ride him the way you wanted.

Johnny didn’t have his hands on you as he wanted to see how far you could go without needing any help.

It wasn’t long.

“Oh my god. Johnny, I can’t.”

“You wanted this babe. You gotta ride me yourself.” He said smugly. He rubbed your nipples a little causing you to moan. “You tell me you love me though and I’ll help you.”

“I love you. I love you so much. Please. It feels too good.”

Johnny chuckled and grabbed onto your hips. He then started to move you up and down at a good fast pace. You weren’t doing any work. “I love you too, baby.”

You moaned loudly feeling your clit constantly hit him over and over again. “Yes. Please.”

Johnny let out a grunt at the new pace and your moans combined. “Damn I missed this.” His right hand traveled lower to smack your ass and then went back to your hip. “I’m never missing out on this again.”

Your hands were on his chest as you rode him. You felt yourself starting to inch close to your release. “I’m almost there. Oh shit. Yes.”

“Come on, baby. Cum on me. You can do it.”

His words made you lose it. You threw your head back. “I’m cumming. Oh god, Johnny.”

Johnny groaned as he felt you cum on him. He helped your ride out your entire orgasm. “There you go. I knew you could do it.”

You tried to control your panting as you sat on him. You didn’t make him pull out on you.

When he saw this, he rubbed your hips gently. “You alright, babe?”

You nodded. You leaned to kiss him on the lips and then you went back to riding his dick again. He moaned. “I want more.”

Johnny had no complaints.

RAIDEN

With Raiden being Earthrealm’s champion it made him quite busy. You didn’t like it. He didn’t have any time for you and you were getting quite touch starved. It had been two weeks.

You were even more pissed when you found out that he was in Outworld helping Princess Kitana with something. Oh, that enraged you.

You were jealous. I mean, Kitana was a princess and you were just some Earthrealmer. You couldn’t really compete with that.

Washing the dishes, Raiden walked into the house. “I’m so glad to be home.” He walked to where you were at and kissed you on the cheek. “Hello, my heart.” He started to rub your back soothingly. “I missed you.”

“Go miss Kitana.” You told him bluntly and pushed him off of you.

He looked at you very confused. Raiden turned off the water and forced you to look at him. “What are you talking about, (Y/N)?”

You sighed a little, feeling bad that you were rude to him. “Nothing.”

“Is something troubling you? You know you can always talk to me.”

You bit your lip, slightly embarrassed at what you were going to say. “It’s just…you haven’t been around to…” Raiden waited patiently to hear you. “Make love with me and I feel like all your attention is on Kitana.”

“Oh, my heart.” Raiden lifted your chin up and gave you a kiss on the lips. “Trust me, I would spend all my time with you if I could but Lord Liu Kang has me going on missions that pertain to Outworld.” Raiden started to kiss your neck with sweet kisses. “I would make love to you every day if I could.”

You sighed happily at the kisses that were being placed on your neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so snippy with you.”

Raiden shook his head as he faced you. “You’re frustrated. I understand. Allow me to make you feel better.”

Raiden was eating you out as you laid on your back, his head between your thighs. You tugged on his hair. He licked all the right places and sucked on your clit greedily.

You moaned loudly. His hands were on your thighs and he continued to eat you out like you were his last meal. One thing about Raiden was that he knew how to eat pussy.

“Raiden. Yes. Oh god.”

He lifted his head from your pussy and licked his fingers. He then placed the fingers on your clit and started to rub it in circles.

You moaned louder and played with your breasts. Raiden watched you and licked his lips as he saw you throw your head back.

Raiden leaned over and kissed you on the lips, making you taste yourself. He wasn’t really a big tongue kisser but when he was horny, Raiden was the best tongue kisser in the world.

He licked the bottom of your lip before licking all over in the inside of your mouth. You moaned and tried to use your own tongue but when you did, Raiden wrapped his lips around it and sucked all over it.

You moaned incoherent nonsense and Raiden pulled away. “You look so pretty like this.”

The circles on your clit didn’t stop. You rubbed all over his chest. “Raiden please. I’m so close.”

When you said that, Raiden kissed you one last time. “I can’t wait to taste all of you in my mouth.”

Raiden went back between your legs and ate you out again. You moaned at the harsh licks and the way he sucked on your clit at a steady pace.

“Raiden. Oh god. Raiden. I’m cumming.”

He ate you out through out the entirety of your orgasm. Even to the point when you were done. You tried to push him off of you. “Too sensitive.”

Raiden came up from pussy and kissed you on your breasts. “Come on, love. You can’t give me one more?”

You couldn’t help but give in to Raiden’s words. You nodded and he smiled before going back down on you.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mk #mk1 #liu kang #liu kang x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #raiden #raiden x reader #mk raiden #kitana

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toxicanonymity · 8 months

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Midnight Snack.

3.4k slasher!Joel x f!reader

slasher Joel masterlist | spotify SUMMARY: Joel has dinner with his Mom, then visits you. A/N: Shoutout to @iamasaddie for the master list mood board magnets, @gasolinerainbowpuddles for the edit and divider, fridge magnet anon ask, @thesummerpetrichor , anyone I'm forgetting? WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon unsafe p in v, creampie, light somnophilia, choking, lewd degradation, home intrusion, manual restraint, spitting, toxic parental issues, angst/insecurity, changes POV, NO Y/N.

“I said I’m good, Ma,” Joel grumbles as his mom puts another heaping spatula of casserole on his plate anyway. He sighs and pushes it around with his fork.

“What’s got ya down, hun?”

“Nothin’.”

“It’s a girl, ain’t it?” She smiles. “Knew it. Last time ya were here, ya had that glow," she nods, then registers his sullen face again. "It's okay, hun. Whatever it is, you'll work it out.".

He hasn't stopped thinking about you since he was there. When he drives, when he showers, when he goes to bed, when he jacks off—he sees the desire in your eyes when you’re pinned against the counter. He sees your dripping hole stretched around his fist. He thinks about you every time he uses his wrench. Still smells like your filthy cunt.

"Tell me 'bout her,” his mom urges.

“Can't,” Joel mumbles. “Don’t got a girl.”

His mom looks at him knowingly. She always sees right through him. He doesn’t like how close they are, but in a way, she’s his only friend. He fails to suppress a little smile, then looks down shyly at his plate and finally takes a bite.

She asks, “How’d ya meet?”

Joel gives her a half-serious cautionary look and keeps chewing.

“Work?” his mom prods.

Joel swallows, nods, and takes a sip of milk. “Gave'r a ride.”

Two rides, really. Although you took the second one all on your own. And damn, it was good. He shifts in his seat.

“Well, great,” his mom lights up. “When ya gonna see her again?” She dabs her mouth with a cloth napkin and stands up.

“I dunno, Ma. . .She’s too good for me.”

She huffs, adjusts her glasses, then walks over. She playfully whips him on the shoulder with the fabric napkin, then puts her finger in his face. “Don’t you ever say that. No one’s too good for my boy.” She takes his glass to the kitchen and pours him some more milk, then sits back down at the table.

“already left me once,” Joel grumbles.

His Mom’s face falls, then sours.

“Then she’s not worth your time." She scoffs. Or anyone else’s."

“She’s different, Ma," he mutters deadpan, then quieter, he adds, "Sometimes I think she likes me," with the slightest lift of his brow.

Mrs. Miller's eyebrows shoot all the way up. "Well, she should!"

"'mixed signals." He’s saying too much, but he can’t stop. It’s not like he has anyone else to talk to.

"Bring'er for dinner," she suggests.

"Ain't like that," he sulks. "We don't-" He cuts himself off and sighs, sitting back in his chair. He puts his napkin on his plate. "Shouldn't'a mentioned it," he mumbles.

His mom reaches across the table for his hand, and he gives it to her. He looks at the delicate, paper-thin skin covering the veins on her hand. It makes him sad. He wants to bring a girl home. He wants to make his Mom happy. He doesn't come by enough. She must be so lonely. And he's the one who. . .no, his father deserved it, he reminds himself for the millionth time in his life. He didn’t love them, his mom said. Resentment begins to overtake his guilt. He doesn’t want to feel sorry for her. He steels himself and decides to feel nothing.

"Look at me, Joel." She looks him in the eye. "You're not gonna get a wife like this, honey." Joel swallows and looks down. She continues, "Don't be a quitter. She's yours if you want her." Don’t be a quitter.

The buzzer for the laundry goes off. Mrs. Miller starts to head to the laundry room, but Joel stops her. "Feel like a loser when ya do my laundry."

She shakes her head in disapproval and starts clearing the table instead. "My son. . .” she picks up both their plates. ". . .Is not a loser."

Joel finishes his laundry, watches some tv with her while she knits, then pulls himself away. His Mom sends him on his way with an old tupperware of casserole. "Go get her," she tells him with a wink.

—-

He wants to make a move. He wants to fuck you again, but he isn’t sure how. How do people do it? He doesn't know how to ask you out, or what you'd do together. Every time he thinks about it, he feels stupid, but he does wanna see you. He wants to be inside you. He wants to make you purr, little sex kitten.

At this hour, you’re probably out whoring, but he might as well drive by while he’s close. All your lights are off, but your car is there. Hmm. He can't bring himself to go home. Don’t be a quitter. He sits in his car at the end of your street. Last time he came over, it went pretty well. You wanted him to fuck you, and he did. You wanted more, and he gave you more. Then he left before you could leave him.

He feels like you’re special, but he really only knows a few things about you. Most importantly, you like the danger, you want the thrill, you want his dick, and you sure can take a cock.

The only thing he can think to do is give you more of what he knows you want. Even if you're asleep, you'll be purring for it as soon as he drags you out of bed and pins you on the floor. He pictures a knife at your throat. Not a big one, just his switchblade.

He gets out of his car and adjusts his balls, spreading his feet for a moment. Then he starts walking to your house. After a few seconds, he goes back to his car for the casserole. Maybe you'll have a midnight snack after he stuffs you full of his cock. He rolls his eyes at himself. That’s stupid.

—-

There's a lamp with a dying bulb barely flickering on your back patio with a couple of moths fluttering wildly around it. Joel looks into your dark kitchen and scowls at his reflection in the glass. He holds the Tupperware under his elbow and picks the lock with ease. After stepping into your kitchen, he quietly slides the door shut behind him. His boots thud stickily as he takes his first steps on the linoleum. Do you ever mop? He holds his switchblade open in the air. He’s headed toward the hall where he expects your bedroom is. He inches through the kitchen--between the counter on his left and the stove on his right, until he gets to your fridge.

The surface of the fridge is peppered with magnets--souvenirs, letters of the alphabet, bottle openers. It's silly. But a piece of paper catches his eye and he stops dead in his tracks. It's pinned to the fridge by a "J," and an "X" and an "O." He blinks and squints, but his eyes don't deceive him. It's his drawing of you, legs spread wide open. His chest flutters looking at his sketch of your cunt hung proudly on your fridge. His dick twitches, and he inhales sharply. His mouth is watering. He dips the tip of his thick pinky between his lips and dribbles a string of saliva on the paper, right between your legs. He tilts his head and admires the way your graphite cunt glistens.

You want him. You really want him. His body relaxes. He closes and pockets his switchblade. He opens the fridge as quietly as possible and puts the casserole on the top shelf, pausing to survey the scant contents. Mostly condiments. Takeout containers. Beer. Expired orange juice. He closes the fridge.

The microwave is hanging down from a cabinet to his left. He steps in front of it and bends his knees enough to push back his hair in the reflection. He stands up again, squares his shoulders, then prowls in silence to your bedroom.

---

The door is open. Of course it is. You want him. His boots are quieter on your carpet. He approaches the foot of your bed but doesn't get closer. You're occupying less than half the bed. You're just as pretty in your sleep. All bundled up. He knew that already. He gets harder, recalling the time he woke you up with his cock inside you. God, you're sexy. How'd he get so lucky that a hot little slut like you wants him so bad?

He goes to the other side of your bed. His side. There’s a chair full of dirty clothes. He sits down on them and takes off his boots. He stands up again and lowers the zipper of his jumpsuit, pressing down on his bulge to get the zipper over it without snagging. Then he peels the sleeves off and brings it down over his ass and meaty thighs. He lets it pool at his feet and steps out of it.

He's left wearing a blue soft wash t-shirt, lighter blue striped boxers, and white socks with holes. He takes those socks off too. He approaches your bed, lifts the covers with care, and sees what you're wearing. You're wearing the shirt–he recognizes its condition. God damn, you really do want him.

Joel gradually lets his weight onto your mattress as he slips under the covers. His heart races and his forehead is damp. His cock is so hard just from being close to you. He lies there perfectly still on his side for a moment, watching your back as you breathe. Then he scoots forward, inch by inch, until his leg hair brushes your bare legs and you jerk in your sleep.

"Shhh. It's just me," he whispers as he wraps his hulking arm over you. He spoons you and lightly presses his hard cock against your ass. You moan in your sleep and push back, then he moans.

You jerk in your sleep again, but this time you don't relax. You startle awake. You gasp and whimper. Your limbs thrash, and his arm tightens around you. You squeal, and his massive hand covers your mouth. He wasn't expecting your feisty side, kitten. He came to give you what you want.

Why don’t you want him anymore?

-----you-----

Pure instinct kicks in when you wake up with someone in your bed. Your heart is pounding, you thrash and kick with all your might trying to get away. He covers your mouth and repeats “It’s me, sweetheart. God damn.” He sounds confused and irritated at your reaction. His voice is familiar, but it takes you a moment to place it, despite thinking about him all the time in waking life. It's like your subconscious hasn't caught up with reality, and can you blame it?

"Would you stop? Damn," he pants, getting more irritated as you continue to struggle and his arm tightens more, compressing your chest. What did he expect breaking into your house and getting into your bed?

You feel his hard dick press against your loose sleep shorts and get butterflies in your core, even as you continue struggling. He backs up for a moment and the pull of his arm forces you onto your back. He pins you with his left forearm on your chest and aggressively yanks down your shorts then kicks them all the way off before getting between your legs. His hard cock lays against your clit, separated only by his boxers, and you're throbbing. Your efforts to free yourself get weaker and weaker until you’re just lying there, staring up at him, your chest getting sore under his arm.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily.

He’s scowling down at you with a fine mist of perspiration along his hairline. He presses his cock against your mound again. Over a long moment of silence, an electric charge passes between your eyes and his. He slightly tilts his head and looks at your mouth. You reach for the back of his neck and feel the cold sweat under your palm as you pull him down, drawing his face to yours.

Your mouths meet but don't seal, and you find your lips reaching for his, wanting something to hold, something to suck–but he devours you without granting you any bit of control. You whimper as he kisses you hungrily, hard cock throbbing against your aching clit. He kisses you sloppily, biting your lower lip, dragging his tongue across it to the corner where he pauses and presses his teeth into your cheek and grunts with a slow thrust against you. Then he drags his lips and tongue down your jaw as you tilt your chin up.

He latches onto your neck with an "mm" and his hips begin to grind his thick erection against you at a slow rhythm. He grunts and his breath is humid with a moan against your neck before he latches onto it again. You feel the delicate skin bruising under his mouth while your pussy is gushing wet. You tilt your hips and wrap a leg around him. He groans at your slick, throbbing cunt against his cock.

He murmurs into your neck, “God damn, you’re a slut for my cock,” then chuckles. “Aren’t ya, kitten?”

He lifts his pelvis off you to massage your cunt aggressively with his hand. You whine and he gives a low whistle. Then he urgently takes his boxers down and you help him, curling a toe into the waistband once his boxers get down to his thighs. You drag your foot down between his legs to his feet, taking his boxers with you. . He kicks them off the rest of the way. Before he lays his hips back into you, you reach for his balls, longing to feel the heft of them. It sends a bolt of desire through you. Fuck.

"What's wrong with you?" You ask, but you're really asking yourself. You’re asking yourself why you've got this sicko in your bed, someone unhinged enough to break into your house not once but twice and all you want is his cock.

"Me?" He asks. "the fuck is wrong with you?" He wraps a hand around your throat. “Playin’ games with me,” he growls bitterly. “Ya want it, ya don't, ya want it–” you cough under his grip as he reads your eyes, then he whispers, "want it" with a small nod, and takes his hand away.

He notches his tip at your entrance then breathes, "don't ya?--uggghh" As he shoves into you. “Want it, you’ll get it,” he pants as his cock parts your walls. His cock spreads you wide open as he gives you his full length, and you gasp as he bottoms out. He withdraws a few inches and hangs his head to watch you swallow him back up.

"God damn," he murmurs. "Forgot how tight ya were before." Your clit twitches at the thought of the wrench.

Then his eyes come to your chest and the ripped shirt he gave you. He moans at the sight of your nipple poking through one of the slashes and he covers it with his mouth as he fucks you. His wide tongue drags under your nipple and wets the curled edges of the slash in the shirt before his lips seal around your nipple. He brings his hips back and pushes into you again, sucking and moaning into your tit. Your eyes fixate on his triceps nearly bursting out of his sleeves and that’s the first time it hits you that he was already in sleepwear. He undressed and got in bed with you. God, he’s weird. And you. You're. . . You don't know, but your hands are gliding on their own over his muscular back, feeling him flex as he pounds you.

You find your fingers curling under the bottom hem of his shirt and he reaches one hand behind his back to help you remove it. You can't see much, but when the angle shifts, the moonlight catches enough to tell you his body has really been through it. When his head dips to your neck again you watch his hulking back muscles and see lines whiter than his skin. At least a dozen, overlapping lashes. You run your hand over it and the slight change in texture makes you wince with the confirmation. No telling how old they are.

On his front, there’s a short straight line near his shoulder and a longer, thinner one on his side, curving around near his v muscle. Your thumb drifts to that one. Joel shivers at the touch, then slams his hips into you harder. You quickly abandon it, sliding your hand up his side, then to his pec. A wicked smile spreads across half his face as your hand runs across his chest. "Y'ain't scared, are ya?" He asks, breathing heavily with his cock dragging heavily in your dripping wet cunt.

“No.” You thumb his nipple.

He lowers himself and lets the weight of his middle onto you with a sigh, still railing his length into you. You wrap both legs around him, and he breathes "yeah, mmmgg baby, yeah" as he fucks you deeper.

Your nipples go fully erect. "Fuck," he breathes when he feels them. He grinds against your clit as he fucks you, and you feel a climax looming. The thought crosses your mind whether he's going to kill you one of these days and your chest erupts in goosebumps. Your face feels cold.

As though reading your mind, he says, “don’t whore around on me” He reads your eyes then adds, "n' you'll be fine," with a small nod, a brief smile, and harsh thrust.

You can't help but crack a smile at the absurdity of it. The implied monogamy–on your side, at least. When he registers your amusement, his smile fades into a scowl and his eyes turn black. He grabs your jaw, squeezes it open, and spits in your mouth. He grabs your hand off his chest and pins both your wrists harshly above you, holding them there with one massive hand as he fucks you harder, angrier. He looks down where your bodies meet, and he watches you take his cock again, breathing heavily, sighing and moaning.

Eventually his sour mood subsides, replaced by renewed marvel at your body. "Sure can take a dick." Your hips lift into him, seeking more pressure for your clit, near the edge. "Didn't bring my wrench." He glances around your bedroom. You moan at the thought of him shoving something inside you. Your walls twitch, and the deep groan that leaves his mouth is too much. You grab his ass and pull him deeper using your hands and your legs.

"Fuck, Joel," you breathe, and a new softness spreads across his face.

His mouth falls open and he whispers, "yeah, sweetheart." You bite your lip and groan as a huge orgasm seizes you. "Yeah," he whispers and his eyes map your face as your walls clench around him. "oh fuck," he pants as you cum on his cock. "Fuck," he breathes again, "fuckin love this cunt," he looks you in the eye. "Ohhhh," he groans and begins to pulse inside you. He lowers his face to your neck again and you keep cumming, your body jerking into his. "Yeah, fuck," he manages into your neck as his balls empty into you. "Mmmmm" he thrusts slowly one more time like he can hardly stand the pleasure.

He pushes himself back up to look at you and shudders as you squeeze him with an aftershock.

"'s'okay," he whispers and brushes your temple with his thumb. “ruin ya in the mornin'” In the morning? He wants to stay over? "God you're hot," he chuckles, cock still inside you. After a long moment of silence, he slides his cock out of you and you wince at the void. He lays on his stomach and drapes his arm over you. Your heart races and you can only hope he doesn’t feel it. You don’t want him in your bed right now. He's a novelty and he has to stay that way. Yeah it was fun, it’s been fun. It’s fun. You have his stupid drawing on your fridge, like a wild memory, a souvenir. But this. . . this is unsettling.

You can't get attached to this sicko. But you know better than to try to make him leave. He gets that look in his eye sometimes, and you just don’t know. You take deep breaths and try to plot how you’ll get out of this in the morning. You can say you have to work. Yeah, you’ll say you have to work. Eventually, you drift off under the weight of his arm.

------

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Love you guys.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #dark!joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #slasher!joel ☠️#slasher!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#slasher!joel miller #serial killer!joel miller #tw dubcon #cw dubcon #dark!joel #mama slasher

1K notes · View notes

onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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anantaru · 2 months

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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ synopsis. reminiscing about the start of your relationship // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡ cw. mentions of guns, tw guns, fluff & established relationship, a/n. this is just a random idea that came to me, not proofread, gn! reader ♡

the unfolding of a relationship can truly be something magical.

with a warm contentment, you settle yourself against boothill's chest as you indulge the drifting thoughts in your mind, humming lightly into your chest as you felt a large palm cradle your hip.

you cannot lie to yourself, can you? but you're rather nostalgic about the early stages of your relationship with your boyfriend and how the two of you got to know each other.

at that, you realise it's a fun story, a great one even.

to boothill, you were the first person he's had a genuine interest in having a relationship with, and remembering how he thought he should tackle it— well, it was almost tragic, in a humorous way.

people who saw him as a dangerous individual weren't necessarily new to him. he'd be naive believing that he wouldn't be scary to look at.

the man understood that his risky occupation, aside from his outside demeanor could come across as unsafe and frightening to the outside spectator.

what boothill didn't realise, however, was that no matter how hard you try, you cannot hide yourself.

you see, boothill doesn't lie— although frankly, he did try to make himself seem a little less intense to you. especially on your first dates.

it all began with his job and how it doesn't fit with your usual cookie cutter profession. in order to appear a lot softer and less frightening to you, he wasn't the most honest about what he's been doing for a living, nor did he actually plan to reveal it to you right away.

reflecting back on it, his cheeks instantly burn of embarrassment— the sheer confidence he must've experienced when he believed, for a single second, that he could be able to claim and sell the lie of him having a bakery would actually fool you in the slightest bit.

quoting his exact type of wording; a renowned bakery owner with a strong liking towards lemon cake.

well, perhaps you bringing it up from time to time and teasing him with it was a consequence of his own actions now. yet, his sweet sense of humor made you fall in love with him the most.

it's adorable, he is, yet it ended up being slightly dangerous— with such words shrouded in your mind, you're thinking back at one specific moment where you accidentally found one of hid guns.

naturally, he's tried to downplay it immediately, hands turning sweaty as he couldn't keep eye contact with you while working himself through a story of claiming that, well, it's not a real one silly, see? but a fake one, okay? that he's been using for an upcoming, top secret, performance he's been planning for a while now.

for his bakery. you know.

little did he realize you accidentally pulled the trigger right when you were about to hand over the weapon and shot a bullet through the wall, right into the living room— you were fortunate enough that the knock back didn't hurt your shoulder too much, it stung a little, yes, but you were able to recover from the shock quickly.

yeah, it's safe to assume that this was a clear awakening to boothill, that he most likely needs to let you in on a couple of silly, little details about his life.

well now at least, after being in a loving relationship for a good couple of years already, you tilt your face and prop yourself up by your chin as your boyfriend shakes his head the moment you mention it to him again, "don't remind me of that," he begins to panic, a big and embarrassing smile plastering across his mouth as his heart drops to the pit of his stomach, "hey! we promised not to talk about this again,"

he's shrouded with a sudden feeling of helplessness, scratching the back of his neck before you slant yourself closer with an airy laugh brushing against his lips, "but it's our origin story," you smile and hoist your body up so you could be on his eye level.

you continue to affirm, knowing it makes your boyfriend weak in the knees, "and you're so sweet when you're embarrassed," before applying a sultry kiss on his cheek, breath holding, mind numbing, as boothill quirks up the sides of his mouth softly at your plush lips touching him.

truly, how beautiful it was that no matter what, he knows that you are one and if anything, a story such as yours only brought one closer.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #boothill x you #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #boothill fluff #tw gun mention #tw guns

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transmascissues · 11 months

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building off of this post, people love to say that “trans men want to keep going into in women’s spaces after they transition because they just want to have the best of both worlds!” but in my experience, there are four main reasons that a trans man might use a “women’s space” after they transition:

it’s an important resource that’s being arbitrarily gendered and we need to use it regardless of which gender is “supposed to” be using it.

it’s a public facility where we’d be significantly less safe in the men’s version and we have to choose our safety over our desire to not be misgendered.

it’s a social space that we’ve been in since before we transitioned and we don’t want to suddenly be cut off from our friends and support system.

the trans man in question is multigender and is also a woman, or maintains some other kind of connection to womanhood alongside their manhood.

do any of those sound like “evil men rubbing our dirty little hands together making plans for how we’re going to get male privilege without losing access to women’s spaces” to you? they sure don’t to me!

i think it’s pretty reasonable that we want to transition without losing the ability to access the resources we need, keep ourselves safe, keep up the relationships we’ve built, and express all facets of who we are. all of those are really, like, pretty basic parts of having good life and we shouldn’t be expected to give them up when we transition.

and honestly, if you claim to care about trans people, you should not be so attached to the gendering of these spaces that you’re willing to deny trans men those things for the sake of upholding gender restrictions. anyone who prioritizes the sanctity of gender segregated spaces over the safety, health, and well-being of trans men is a fucking transphobe. (yes, even if you’re trans yourself.)

and that’s what really gets me about all of this — the vehemence with which people are willing to defend those spaces being entirely and inflexibly gendered, despite how enforcement of gendered spaces has hurt trans people time and time again. gendered spaces have literally always been set up in ways that force trans people to break the rules; some trans men might break those rules in ways that don’t make sense to you, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong for us to do so! it just means you might feel weird about it and that’s okay, discomfort won’t kill you.

“but using women’s spaces after transitioning to male defeats the purpose of transitioning! the whole point of transitioning is to be able to live as a man!”

and who are you to tell trans men what the point of our transitions should be? what if the purpose of us transitioning is just to live the happiest and most fulfilled life possible, and forcing ourselves into unsafe spaces or denying ourselves access to important resources or cutting ourselves off from important people in our lives or pushing down the more complex parts of our genders would “defeat the purpose of transitioning” for us? what if being able to go where cis men go is just one part of a much bigger journey, not the end goal?

if you really want to talk about “defeating the purpose,” let’s talk about how policing which gendered spaces trans men can access defeats the purpose of trying to stop cis people from policing which gendered spaces trans people can access, because it allows the policing of trans people in gendered spaces to continue in some form instead of eliminating it altogether. let’s talk about how using “evil men invading women’s spaces” rhetoric against trans men defeats the purpose of trying to stop cis people from using it against trans women, because it allows the rhetoric to continue in some form instead of eliminating it altogether.

the point of saying “let people decide which gendered space is right for them” isn’t to make sure everyone uses the one aligned with their “true gender,” it’s to let people do what’s best for them without punishing them for their choice. sometimes the best choice is one that seems wrong from the outside, and you need to learn to live with that.

i just think we as a community need to be more hostile toward people who think upholding the sanctity of a gendered space is more important than giving trans people the freedom to move through the world without being punished for existing in those gendered spaces. that kind of thinking is fucking dangerous and it’s weird as hell that some of y’all are so comfortable with it being directed at us.

moral of the story: stop giving so much of a shit about where a trans man decides to piss or see a doctor or hang out or whatever else. even if you think he doesn’t belong there, he probably has a good reason to be there anyway, and that reason is frankly none of your damn business.

#im SO tired of this bro #like just shut up why are you so worried about this #i promise the big bad trans men arent here to hurt you. were just living our fucking lives #our mere presence is not a threat to you any more than yours is a threat to us #and even if you dont give a shit about us. this thinking leaves the door wide open for transmisogyny to join the party #so like. if you wont shut up for our sake do it for the trans women&fems who also get fucked over in the end #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #anti transmasculinity #transmascphobia #trans men #transmascs

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dev1lm4n · 11 months

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all glory

masterlist | kofi (support me here!)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel has been feeling insecure, finding it hard to come to terms that he's indeed aging. tommy suggests a clever solution: a post-apocalyptic glory hole

word count: 4.8k of pure filth

warnings: minors dni (18+), post-outbreak, joel is 56 here hehe hot old men, insecurities, glory hole, fingering, unsafe piv, slight breeding kink, no pregnancy stuff tho cuz im terrified of that, reader calls him sir, pet name (darling)

note: i decided to create a kofi bcs im a broke college student lol. anyways hope yall enjoy this, do COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed this :)

Joel Miller had always been a man of confidence.

Being left as a single father for Sarah at an early age, he’s been through thick and thin, trying his best to make ends meet so that they wouldn’t have to end up in one of those run-down shelters. But never once did he question his ability to attract women.

He’s always had it in him. With a mere glance from his expressive eyes, he can ensnare hearts and leave an everlasting impression on anyone fortunate enough to encounter him. Rugged masculinity and striking refinement; a deathly mix that kept girls swarming after him like bees. After the world descended into chaos, he’s not much different either. Perhaps the bone-deep trauma had left him looking eternally exhausted with sunken eyebags, or that gray filaments started becoming a welcomed addition to his beard, but all in all he’s still charming.

He didn’t have to seek, because people seek for him. Joel had plenty of erotic rendezvous in times where society crumbled and the rule of law eroded, more so now that everyday could be his last and he didn’t have the privilege to take it slow like a true Southern gentleman. He’s done it everywhere. Inside a stuffy closet while hiding from a clicking monstrosity, behind a thin wall while her husband sat cluelessly on the other side, and even taking sexual compensation for his little business. Joel Miller wasn’t a saint. Neither he one for God and he’d like to make it obvious.

Nowadays though, within the tall foreboding walls of Jackson City, that type of attention has faded away. He’s no longer getting those longing stares from across the floor, no longer being begged to corrupt just for some extra wad of cards, no longer being flirted and fawned over like a goddamn stud. Joel didn’t have any problem with it at first. He’s growing old. Instead of those naughty strands of white peeking out of his head, he’s now a complete mix of salt and pepper. Instead of just having a fun smile line, forehead rolls and crows’ feet are now imprinted deep into every crevice. Joel wasn’t the man he used to be.

He’s weathered away, he thought, unsuited for fun and adventure.

Perhaps it had something to do with his daughter as well. Even when Ellie’s not from his actual blood, everyone in town viewed her that way. He’s her father. Thus, everyone seemed to perceive and treat him as merely a father and not as an actual person that has his own needs and wants. Joel loved his daughter. Terribly so in ways he couldn’t decipher. A part of him has made up his mind that this would be how he should spend the rest of his life: in celibacy. Though the retirement of his sexual and romantic life has slowly taken a toll towards his self-esteem. Tommy, who’s always known to be rather slow and imperceptive, was surprisingly the first one to take notice of his gradual change.

“Maria told me you might be here.”

Tommy’s gruff voice brought him out of his trance. Joel looked up, meeting the familiar figure crouch to get into his little workshop. It was his newfound hobby these days, becoming a hermit and isolating himself from the community. He’d craft a wooden figure or two each night while he relived each and every one of his memories. Good and bad. Of death and of birth. Then by the end of the night he’d feel mildly satisfied with a wooden sculpture shaped like memorabilia from the old world. Joel couldn’t admit it outloud, but insecurity had taken over him. It festered deep into his soul that he couldn’t even bear looking at himself in the mirror anymore or present himself to society.

“Yeah, just..” he paused to ponder on a better way to answer. “Just doin’ my own thing.”

“You skippin’ dinner again?” Tommy’s curiosity sounded oddly suspicious, enough that Joel already knew he’s about to say something obnoxious or entirely uncalled for. The older quirked his thick eyebrows in return.

“Made myself my own plate,” Joel cocked his head towards where a lone plate sat. Judging from the crimson stain smeared on top, it must’ve been one of those canned pastas that he picked out.

“Brother..” Tommy started out, visibly nervous of how his brother would take it. “Is there something wrong?”

“With me?”

“Yeah, with you.”

“No, not that I could think of,” Joel hummed. “I ain’t bitten or anythin’, why are ya asking such a dumb question anyway?”

“You’re just different these days,” Tommy reasoned with a small frown. “You barely come out of your house and if you do, you’re huddled up in this place, carving things for hours on end.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to be alone. Is there?” he challenged.

“No, but you’re.. different. Almost like your mind’s troubled for once.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong, Tommy,” he insisted.

Joel was actively avoiding the accusations. He stood up from where he’s been perched upon for hours on end, bringing his half-carved wooden slab with him to set it on one of the displays he had. He’s grown quite the collection. It’s been going on far longer than he’d expected, the crippling fear of being undesirable and hideous, and it brought up an immense feeling of embarrassment. He couldn’t possibly admit such things to Tommy, could he? Tommy was different from him. His first child was on its way to be birthed, but girls still chatter about his charming smile and strong figure. They’d still gossip and make dirty guesses about his size. How long he endured such activities, the position he enjoyed best, and how sweet he was to his partner.

Tommy couldn’t possibly understand his fear.

“You can’t help me even if I told ya,” he grumbled.

“Put some trust in me, will ya?” Tommy chuckled as he spun around his seat to follow Joel’s every move. “Tell me what’s troublin’ you, big brother.”

“They don’t look at me the same way.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The ladies,” Joel muttered.

His words were barely above a whisper. It almost seemed as if he saw the phenomenon as something humiliating, up to the point where he couldn’t even look Tommy in the eye in fear of having him laugh. He’s never talked about this with anyone else. It didn’t help that he truly didn’t have anyone to talk to in general aside from the few acquaintances his brother introduced him to and well.. Ellie. But none of them seem to be the right person to talk to regarding this.

Regarding his failure in masculinity. His unspoken worries that he didn’t have any of the strong, chiseled jawline or any of the tightly packed abdomen with six separate squares to admire. He’s grown old and weak. Five years ago, he could’ve probably still sweet-talk his way into a woman's heart, but now he couldn’t even look one in the eye without the fear of being put to shame.

“They still do, Joel,” Tommy assured him. He’s telling the truth. Joel knew that Tommy didn’t have it in him to lie, he’d have sounded like a strangled bird or a squeaky dog’s toy if he did. But his mind couldn’t believe it one bit.

“I don’t know, Tommy..” he muttered. “They don’t look at me the same way. They don’t look at me at all even.. and I’m fine with that I 'spose. I ain’t a whorin’ bastard who couldn’t accept that he’s agin’..”

“But they do, Joel.”

“I’m old,” he sucked in the air. “Lately there are these moments where I.. where I’d look a girl in the eye and all I could feel was humiliation.”

“Humiliation?”

“Like they’re lookin’ at me as if I’m some.. some sort of repulsive creature,” he whispered. “I feel like I could hear ‘em gigglin’ with their girlfriends on how shameless I am.”

Tommy was deduced into silence. Time ticked by as he cranked up his brain to figure out the best way to aid his older brother out of his misery. It’s all in his head, Tommy knew that Joel knew that as well, but it’s easier patching up an oozing wound than a troubled mind. He brought his hand together on top of his jeans as he waited for the younger to make another comment, whether of comfort or of a harsh reality.

“I’ll offer you a solution,” Tommy spoke up. “But you gotta promise not to lose your head over it.”

“It ain’t drugs, is it?”

“No, no..” Tommy chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m open to anythin’” Joel dropped his arms to his side as he curiously eyed Tommy.

“Have you ever heard of a glory hole?”

Joel’s expression contorted in such a way that the younger Miller couldn’t possibly read what he’s thinking any longer.

“I ain’t goin’ outside those borders just to go to some sketchy brothel, Tommy. That’d be pathetic.”

“Well, the thing is this whole operation ain’t sketchy,” Tommy reasoned. “The girls were tested and approved by the local doctor before..”

“Local doctor? You tellin’ me this is happenin’ within Jackson?”

“I operate it, Joel,” he sighed, knowing he’s about to be bombarded with a handful of questions. “And before you ask, no this ain’t considered prostitution as there’s no material exchange.”

“You mean..”

“Yes. The girls do it for free. Volunteers. They do it for their own pleasure and I help make their dreams come true.”

Joel looked at his own brother as if he was a mad man. Who wouldn’t? When he’s just told him that they had an actual glory hole installed without most of the public knowing. Or perhaps they knew, they were just not talking about it in front of Joel.

“Ten to twelve. There’s a small house across the sheep field. One girl every Friday night.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy. Maria knows about this?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

“No, but it’s better off she doesn’t.”

Joel felt his morals set askew for a second. This sounded like a terrible idea, despite the fact that he’s confirmed it himself that it’d be the safest a glory hole could possibly be. He scratched his beard and took it into deep consideration.

In the quiet stillness of a winter’s night, the world was wrapped in a soft, white blanket of snow. The moon hung low in the dark sky - a beacon towards those who chose to travel in the deepest hours of nighttime. Joel blew puffs of warm air onto his gloved fingertips, hoping it’d satiate the coolness that made his joints ache and his skin itch. The air was crisp and biting, each breath producing a frosty cloud which quickly amalgamated into the air. He watched as gentle snowflakes, alike to elegant ballet dancers, fell from the heavens up above and twirled and swirled into an intricate pattern. He’s been waiting for way too long.

“So what are ya sayin’? Are you gonna let me take you tomorrow night?” Tommy broke the silence.

Tommy promised to meet him on the edge of the sheep field, where they’d herd livestocks all throughout the warmer times of the year, but he’s yet to see his tall nose and dark hair from any of the cardinal directions. He’s been waiting for too long to keep the same mindset Tommy’s trained him into, that this was simply a beneficial exchange for every party involved and that he shouldn’t feel shameful for something so instinctive. Waiting gave him time to weigh out the cons, how this was naturally an act of debauchery that wounded both his moral values and beliefs. He ain’t a God preacher, but he’s sure to keep some of those Southern manners.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

None of Tommy’s ideas are ever well thought out. Starting from his sudden gravitation towards the military, to his desires to hand over his entire life towards the Fireflies, and now this. He knew his younger brother wasn’t the brightest of men, but creating an entire glory hole to keep the town’s morale up might be the stupidest one he’s heard yet. Especially when Maria’s not aware of it. He feared for the day when the beans spilled out of its jar, but tonight wasn’t that day. During the time in which he contemplated his decisions, Joel didn’t notice the crunching of snow against thick boots. Tommy was here and he looked far too calm for a self-made procucer.

Tommy beckoned him to follow the path his boots had made. Joel sucked in some of that painfully cold air into his lungs, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started trailing along. There were a few street lamps across the field, a ruddy glow emanating from them as they were adorned with a light dusting of snow. He kept his guards up while he scanned through the whistling field of crop, that traumatized part of him always keeping in check of abrupt movements and unsettling sceneries. After a quiet walk for a good three minutes, they finally arrived. The house fronts looked dark enough, and the windows even darker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs.

There was snow piling up outside as well, dirtier ones whose last deposit had been plowed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons. He scrutinized over the tracks, wondering if this was meant to be used as a makeshift grain tower. If it was, then Tommy must’ve been a great scheming asshole to turn such a place into his own little heaven. Not one soul was around, which confused Joel even more. Wasn’t this supposed to be a public glory hole? Weren’t it supposed to be disgustingly packed with sweating men, adorned with walls covered in left-over spurts of cum and other bodily fluids, and smelled like sex itself?

Joel continued to pursue Tommy even when he’s overly skeptical about this entirely new scene. His boots were scuffed as he was dragging his feet through the front door, a fight against his defense system that’s begging him to flee out the door at the unfamiliarity. The establishment consisted of a long narrow hallway that eventually led up to an imposing door. Wooden, large, and mysterious.

To his surprise, what was beyond that door wasn’t some tacky sex dungeon with rattling chains and leather whips, it was a modest looking box. Square, he’d assume one meter wide and half a meter tall. He took in the wood it was made from. His pointer finger slowly traced the circumference out of habit. Oak, he concluded, making it sturdy and cool even in the warmer weather. What he failed to notice from the get-go was a pair of legs that were stretched open, chained onto the wall from the considerably-sized gap. Joel’s heart dropped to his stomach, he forgot for an entire minute what he was planning to do, and he’s starting to get cold feet.

“Darlin’, I’ve got someone for you,” Tommy cooed.

“You do, Tommy?”

Normally, people acquire hobbies in order to soothe their brief but occasional boredom, though you have discovered a unique way to tackle long hours of the night. This brilliant discovery of yours was birthed from a fated moment. One where you accidentally stumble across the conversation Tommy had with one of his patrol friends. It began a fantasy in your head. One you didn’t believe could come true until you overheard a passionate storytelling session one of the barmaids gave their friend. Only then did you gather enough courage to talk to Tommy about it. Despite his initial disapproval, saying things like you look too good and gentle to be doing such things, you managed to convince him with a week's worth of nagging.

“Mhm, one of my good friends here,” he hummed. “You’ll let him use you like a good fucking girl, won’t you?”

Goosebumps trailed from your backbone down to where your legs spread wide. Your nervousness made you flinch, effectively causing your legs to rattle against the metal restraints.

“Yes, I will, Tommy.”

When did you get so.. obedient?

“Alright then. I’ll see you in um.. twenty?”

“Thirty,” the foreign voice spoke up, masculine with a twinge of accent.

“Thirty it is.”

The entire room went quiet for an entire minute, only then did you finally hear the door slammed back shut. You swallowed back the throbbing fear in your heart, pushing back those persistent thoughts constantly warning you of the dangers. Even if you trusted Tommy with all your life, you didn’t trust the random strangers Tommy’s picked out. How could you trust them when you didn’t know who they were for sure? They could’ve been someone you see on the daily. The friendly guards, the cafeteria guy who’d always beam a sweet smile your way and give out more bread than standard, or even.. Tommy’s hunk of a brother. The same one who wouldn’t even spare you a look when you’re obviously sending heart eyes his way.

“Darlin’ is your name, ain’t that right?”

There was something so.. alluring about his voice. The type that makes your knees buckle inevitably, despite your best efforts to push it apart.

“That’s right,” you squeaked out.

“Darlin’, it’s been a long long time since I’ve done this, so let me indulge in you alright?”

“Okay,” you breathed out unsurely.

Your eyes instinctively followed the direction of the hushed voice, but all you could see from the dim box was a piece of dark fabric that was hung from above the hole. It was to keep your identity a secret so that the patrons across from you could only see you from the belly button down. Though now you felt more inclined than ever to pull on the draping and meet this man’s eyes. Your thoughts soon diminished when you felt a large hand over your inner thighs. Nowhere dangerous, just resting below where your kneecaps sat. You closed your eyes to try and envision the kind of hands touching you.

Were they soft and unsullied like a baby’s bum? Or were they rough and ridged with years of work?

That large hand traveled down South, inching with an irritatingly slow pace down towards where you ached the most. He was a fair man. He treated both of your thighs in the same manner before the two gathered together in a v-shape over your cotton panties. You wondered if you should’ve worn something more enticing, something which suited a person like you - someone willing to spread their legs for a true stranger. But the man on the other side didn’t seem to have a problem. He didn’t seem like he was bothered by the simplicity of your presentation, instead he was keen on pressing his thumb down the center.

They were the latter.

His fingers were textured and it felt too good to be true. At the briefest touch, you followed after his movement, hips reaching further up to chase after his departing touch. You whined. Frustrated that he’s cruel enough to press your sensitive clit and leave you all hot and bothered. He let out a deep chuckle, one that came out from the depth of his stomach as he placed his thumb back where it belonged. Your hole clenched and unclenched at the stimulating sensation. Your cotton panties seemed to be a great aid for your needy clit. It felt similar to grinding over a pillow, just this time, it felt a lot more real and animated.

“How long have you been doin’ this, darlin’?”

“Doin’ what, sir?”

So polite. It’s laughable the fact that you’re so soft spoken. Your lips spilled out a gentle moan as his thumb dug deeper into that sensitive spot.

“Lettin’ strangers fuck you,” he was frank with his words that’s for sure.

“This is my first time.. in the box that is,” your voice cracked almost immediately under pressure. “Been thinking of this for a long long time though.”

The gruff man hummed noncommittally as he continued to please you with his thumb. You used to be shy when it comes to being reactive during intercourse, but with the box, it almost felt like you could finally be your true primal self with your utmost carnal desires. He slowly eased your stained panties to the side once he saw an increasingly growing wetness, knowing that it’s time to move on to his next way of torture. Your pussy was exposed to the cool air immediately, it felt like the air was nipping at the sensitive skin all around. He took his two fingers - his middle and pointer finger being his favorite choice despite the controversy - and slowly dragged it atop the slick canal.

“A pretty girl like you gettin’ all wet from a little touchin’,” he chided. “You haven’t been fucked well or somethin’?”

What a considerate man. He called you pretty when he could barely tell what you look like.

“No, maybe, I-” you were flustered. You’ve never had to exchange proper talk when someone’s touching your dirty, wet cunt. “None of Jackson’s men did good. That’s why I hoped..”

Your voice trailed off into a garble of nonsense when he teased at your entrance, trying to decide whether you’re soaked enough to push a finger in comfortably. You whined, louder this time, as your legs fought against the uncomfortable metal cuffs wrapped around your ankle. He decided to play nice for once and made your dreams come true by inserting that thick finger of his. Fingering has never felt good for you, it always felt like an intrusion rather than a welcomed feeling, but he’s making it feel like heaven on earth.

“Hoped a stranger would fuck me well enough,” you took awhile to finish that statement.

He let out one of those noises of disapproval, at your skewed moral direction perhaps or at the tone of desperation your voice must’ve let out. You could only suck in a shallow breath when he started making proper, continuous motions with his finger. He pushed upwards to poke the tip of his finger onto that squishy part, playing around to find out where exactly made you react the most. You loved how he’s patient. You’re half-expecting the men to just stuff their cocks in you like you’re some sex doll instead of taking their time, which you don’t mind either. Half the pleasure was from being treated like nothing.

“Dirty gal,” he degraded, which you found both surprising and exciting. “Just wanted her pussy stuffed with any cock she could have, hm?”

Your hips thrusted up at a larger interruption. This time, the man managed to insert two of his thick fingers inside your eased cunt. He twisted it one-hundred-eighty degrees to the left, then back to the right, before he curled it in a come-here motion. The motion had left you dumb. A combination of ah ah ah’s and unfinished pleads for him to keep still. The man never once fully removed his fingers out of you. He’d slowly pull back to only have a single knuckle stuck inside before pushing it all the way in once more. For once, someone didn’t finger you like you’re a pizza dough waiting to be pounded.

“A-ah, sir. I really.. mmh- I really like that,” you moaned out shamelessly. “Feels really good in my.. in my pussy.”

“You like what, darlin’?”

“Like your fingers.. fingers in my ah- ah pussy!” you whined when he deepened his reach by rotating his wrist upwards. “Something- fuck- something’s coming! Please.. Please don’t sto-”

You warned him like a goddamn virgin and there it was, you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the way your pussy squelched around his finger at the new wave of sticky fluids. The noises were filthy and lewd that you were embarrassed for the first time that night. It coated your throbbing cunt and slowly ebbed out of your hole, dribbling down onto the wooden floor boards under. Strings of almost translucent thickness proof of his success. It’s pretty. The way you gaped around his fingers, tightened and relaxed at his fingers that still kept you full.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

He must be experienced, because he was quick to rub your clit precisely as you went through the throes of orgasm. His broad palm never missed where that bundle of nerves were, until you’re dripping all over the place. Only when you’re right towards the end did he land a small smack atop your pussy, keeping pressure where your womb is to maintain the pleasure for as long as you could. It felt like this wasn’t a shit place for once. It felt like this stranger could surely turn the flesh-eating monsters into a field of rainbows and flowers from how good he’s making you feel.

“You taste sweet,” he muttered. “Someone ever told you that?”

It took you a while to notice that his fingers weren’t there to stuff you full. He was busy tasting you. You could imagine him on the other side of the room, rough fingers deep in his mouth, drenched in your arousal. The thought made you squirm, growing wet once more. You shook your head as his hand slid back up. His fingers ran over your clit with one long stroke before they stayed there. His thumb sat right atop the throbbing spot, unmoving.

"Perfect little thing, ain't ya?” he asked, and you nodded, your muscles tense as anticipation ran high. "Gonna fill you up real nice."

As soon as the dull tip of his cock prodded against your entrance, your whole body convulsed. Tears slowly crept into your eyes, frustrated, you might as well cry out a pathetic plea if he kept on stalling. Your palms banged flat against the side of the box. Overwhelmed and on the verge of tears when he purposefully missed your weeping hole. His length slid upwards, the warm tip rubbed against your clit from below before it shied away once more. Your toes curled and he must’ve taken the hint from behind the curtains.

The perfect stranger pushed himself up to where his mushroom-like tip ended, allowing you to adjust to the dimensions of his cock before he eased himself deeper.

You let out a strained moan.

You almost bump the top of your head on the oak boards when he forced his way in. His cock was fully inside you at last. You were ecstatic. Eyes shut close as you bit into your bottom lip, flesh tearing beneath your canines. It was too much all of a sudden. Too good. Too large. Too full. You could hear the loud squelching noise your spongy hole made as he pulled back and stuffed himself back in.

“Fuck,” he groaned silently. “Don’t squeeze around me, darlin’. You're gonna get me in big trouble.”

He chuckled and fuck did it sound so hot.

You felt his fingers gently reach for the width of your hips. His grip was tight and harsh as he guided your every movement with them. He thrusted like a man on a shooting range, with much precision and prowess. You liked this. Liked feeling as if you’re just a doll for people to use and dump their loads in, especially when it's for someone like him. His cock made you writhe and fight against the metal cuffs holding your legs up. Eager to have him speed up to meet your desires yet he was persistent in keeping a stable speed. The sensation was growing. Slowly but surely.

“A-ah.. mmph.. oh God!”

“God ain’t here to save you, darlin’. It’s just this old man right here,” he cooed crudely.

He made sure to keep you full at all times. Never once did his perfectly-sized cock leave your sloppy hole, it just kept on twitching and growing in size with the help of your warm embrace. “You like this, don’t ya?”

“Oh- oh yes. I like it. Love your..,” he stopped your lewd confession by placing his thumb back atop your once neglected clit, drawing lazily with what’s left of your wetness. You could feel him starting to seep. A tinge of his own arousal mixing in with yours. “Cock! Love your c- cock.”

His heavy pants started to intensify in volume, such a lovely melody when combined with your pathetic whimpers. He’s close.

“Gonna cum in you, darlin’” he muttered out breathlessly. “Gonna make sure you’re all fucked out with my cum.”

You couldn’t think straight. Not when you’re on a highway to heaven. Your little hole tightened, so eager to milk him dry.

“Yeah, you’d like that, won’t you?”

“O-oh.. oh yes. Please.. fuck,”

“Please?”

“Please fill me up.”

His tip started oozing out ribbons after ribbons of cum, quickly filling you up relentlessly. Though he hasn’t stopped bottoming himself up into you. His load sloshed around, coated his length a perfect milky shade, and dribbled down your rear deliciously. Did you really just let a complete stranger fill you up to the top? Did you truly just let him pour his seed up your needy hole?

Maybe you did.

And maybe it’s reckless.

But oddly enough, you don’t feel too bad about it.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #tlou fic #tlou #the last of us

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auteurdelabre · 1 month

Text

A LITTLE SUN - SERIES FINALE

rating: 18+

tags: None. No spoilers in my finales!

summary: It's go time.

a/n: Y'ALL. Who knew this ATTEMPTED ONE-SHOT would end up being this fuckin' long and make me fall even deeper in love with the amazing trash panda/rat king Dieter Bravo? It was a labor of love, that's for sure (see what I did there? heh heh). I should note, your girl's never had a baby and I'm pretty sure a bunch of the shit here is inaccurate and borderline unsafe. OH WELL. This is a Hollywood romance type story so suspend your disbelief, k?

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS MEAN YOU LIKE ME AND THAT MAKES ME WANNA KEEP WRITING.

[ ppppsssssstttttt if you wanna be nice and send a broke writer some cash because you like her writing and her stories and they made you happy, the paypal addy is [email protected] because ko-fi is givin me a headache. ]

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

"This can't be happening," you say in the passenger seat as Dieter speeds you both towards the hospital. "He's not due for another week."

"He's a Bravo," Dieter tells you in a tight voice. "Bravo's never fucking do what they're supposed to. It's part of our charm."

You let out an agonized wail as he speeds around the corner, holding your belly as you lurch back. He spins down the highway, honking at passersby. When half the vehicle ends up on the highway you shout at him to drive normally.

When you settle, Dieter presses a button in his dash and your mom's number comes up. You hear a phone ringing in the car and then your mother's voice soft on the other end. There are hospital noises in the background, she’s at work.

"Hello Didi-"

"Hey Mimi," he says breathlessly interrupting her. "It's go time. Our girl's water broke."

"Oh my goodness," you can hear your mother flapping around in excitement. "I'll be there! I just have to get someone to cover my shift! Oh he’s early! I’ll see you soon, loves!"

"See you soon."

The call ends and you're left staring at the man intently focused on driving.

"Did you just call my mother Mimi?"

"Yeah," Dieter says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's my nickname for her."

Didi and Mimi? What the fuck? How did he get Mimi?

Before you can question their weird interaction further your hands grip around your middle, the strange stabbing sensation increasing with every mile that passes between the house and the hospital.

Thankfully Dieter gets you there quickly, pulling into the hospital's ambulance lane helping you out of the car.

"You can't park there," a man shouts after the two of you. Dieter gives him the finger before helping you onto the sidewalk. You can barely move and you double over, hissing before you can reach the doors. When you are able to right yourself again Dieter is there with a wheelchair he urges you back into.

"Dieter where did you get this?"

"Some old guy smoking on a bench."

"Dieter!"

"Relax," Dieter insists as he rolls you to the front desk. "He won't miss it."

Dieter feels like he's vibrating. After that emotional decree to you he was certain you'd been striding towards him before you doubled over in pain. But now he's not certain. As he follows the nurse now wheeling you to the private suite he's wondering if it was just wishful thinking.

But he doesn't have time to worry about that right now. You're whimpering in pain, one hand over your belly, the other groping the air next to you.

"Are you Dieter Bravo?"

A voice sounds out beside him but he ignores it.

"Can I get your picture?"

"Why are you here?"

He ignores them all, rushing to the side and grabbing your hand as they wheel you into the large private suite.

The space is beautiful if not sterile. Nurses file in, helping you into a pale pink robe before urging you back into the hospital bed.

Dieter steps back to give the medical staff room but it hurts him to be even this far from you. Your feet go in the stirrups and Dieter feels his heart crack. You look so tired, so scared there in the hospital bed.

"You gotta be gowned up, Dad," a nurse says helping Dieter into a blue gown. A hairnet is forced over his unruly locks and a mask over his face. He feels like he's getting ready for another part in a movie, dressing in costume.

Nurses crowd around you, taking your temperature, urging a device onto your finger. There's chattering, movement like some strange ballet.

"She's already nine centimetres."

"Call Doctor March in."

"Dieter!"

Your voice cuts through the overlapping chatter. He moves through the throng, going to your side, ignoring the huffs of irritated medical staff. You gaze up at him through watery eyes and Dieter feels a swell of indignation rise as he watches you squirm in pain.

“Where’s the fucking drugs?”

“It’s too late for an epidural,” the nurse tells you both cringing. “She’s too far along. I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck? I can’t do it without drugs! I can’t do this!” Your eyes are wide and terrified. You glance up at Dieter. “It’s going to hurt! Don’t make me do this!”

“You can do this,” Dieter insists, his thumb rubbing your palm soothingly. “You’re the strongest woman I know. You could do this in your sleep.”

"I can't do this," you whimper, terrified of what's about to happen.

What if something goes wrong? You've read about losing blood about emergency C-sections.

"You can," Dieter says, eyes big and beautiful. He cups your face in his large palms. "You've got this."

"No, I can't," you insist, eyes watery. "I... I'm not strong enough."

"Baby, that's not true. Who got me on SNL after my DUI even after they turned me down twice?”

“Me.”

“And who got me out of my contract for Hot Ones when I found out the chicken wasn’t organic?”

“M-me,” you cringe as a stab of pain goes through you. You can feel the nurse probing to see how far along you are, but all you can focus on is Dieter’s face in front of yours.

“And who wrangled me out of Russia with only a fake passport and a bad accent?”

“Me!”

“That’s right,” Dieter insists, his voice proud. “You don’t take shit from anybody, baby.”

The doctor swans in, a serious looking woman who spares a brief smile for you and Dieter as she reads your chart.

"Hi Mom and Dad, I'm Doctor March and I'll be delivering your son today."

You both give her a weak greeting before she sits on the rolling stool between your parted legs. Dieter isn't looking there though. His eyes are fixed firmly on your face. Your head is tossed back, your forehead damp with sweat.

"Alright Mom, you're ten centimetres so I'm gonna need you to start pushing."

Dieter watches your face blanch and feels a chill go through him at the terror in your face. You look up at him, tears clinging to your lashes.

Dieter doesn't even think. He toes off his shoes and crawls onto the hospital bed next to you. The nearest nurse shouts at him from behind her mask, hand reaching for him.

"Sir, you are not allowed in the bed-"

"I'm staying," Dieter snarls settling in behind you. His long legs go to either side of you, bracketing your body. You lean back against him, relief flooding you at his nearness.

"Sir, I'll call security-"

"Just let him stay!" You cry out. "Please!"

All of a sudden a pain rips through you, causing you to jerk back against Dieter's chest and give out a sharp shriek.

"Baby's coming," the doctor says irritably. "Nurse, I need you here."

The woman scowls at Dieter from behind her mask. The staff begins talking to one another and everything feels like it's happening too quickly.

"Alright Mom, gonna need you to push."

Your fingers dig into Dieters thigh. You feel like the lights are too bright and the room is too cold and the entire thing is just too… scary. You're brows pinch together in anxiety.

"C'mon baby mama," Dieter urges at your temple. "This is all you. You can do it."

You try your hardest, gritting your teeth and trying to push with all your might. But you can't do it. There's too much noise and chaos and the only thing that's keeping you grounded is the warmth of Dieter behind you.

Dieter feels your trembling body and wishes more than anything that he could calm you with his touch alone. Dr. March is calling things out to you but all Dieter can focus on is the way your eyes are darting around the room, the way your body feels trembling against him.

"S'too much," you groan. "Can't do it."

"You are," Dieter insists, his hand over yours braced on his thigh. "C'mon, I know you can keep going. You're so fucking strong."

"I can't," you weep, your body aching and breathing shallow. "I can't-"

"Who chased me down to the Chateau Marmont and snuck into a celebrity party just so she could return a watch to Cartier?"

"M-me," you groan as another ripple of pain goes through you. Dieter sees the doctor leaning forward, disappearing under your gown.

"And who threw me into a shower to get sober for an interview on her first day?"

"Me."

"That’s right,” Dieter smiles, recalling your first introduction to one another. “Know why? Because you don't take shit from anyone and you're not starting now. You show that baby who’s in charge.”

Something in his voice gives you resolve. You nod, hands going to his knees and bracing. You tilt back as you push, head falling on Dieter's shoulder.

"Push," the doctor commands again calmly.

This goes on for what feels like forever. You straining, pushing and crying out in pain as Dieter cradles you between his legs, ensuring how good you’re doing.

"Good job, good job," doctor March encourages.

“That's my girl," Dieter murmurs proudly in your ear. It makes you want to sob.

"One more big push," doctor March says.

You're exhausted and shaky and you don't want to do this. It wasn't supposed to be today. You had a week. You planned it out. This is all too soon.

"No more," you groan, sweat beading along your forehead. You don't want to let go of your son. Not yet.

It feels unnatural to have carried him so long just to be removed from your body this way. He feels like a part of you, like was always meant to nestle under your ribs. It's like removing your own heart.

Dieter lowers his mask and pushes back the sweaty hair from your face, replacing it with a sweet kiss.

"C'mon baby," Dieter insists, his voice a rasp in your ear. "He's almost here. Our son's almost here."

Our son. Yours and Dieter's.

Despite the frenzy of the moment your eyes drift from the doctors head between your legs up to Dieter.

"Our son," you echo weakly.

He's staring down at you, dark eyes so full of adoration. He's nodding, smiling gently at you.

"Our little boy," Dieter says, kissing your damp cheek. "And we're so close to meeting him baby; you just gotta push one more time. Can you do it for me? For him?"

Yes. You can.

You give out an animalistic growl that turns into a shriek. Dieter continues to hold your arms, murmuring that you're so brave, so beautiful.

"Holy shit I can see hair," Dieter whispers against your cheek, peering over your belly to see as the doctor encourages your son forward.

You give one last guttural scream, arching in Dieter’s arms before you feel that stinging between your legs settle. And then the most beautiful sound in the world - the tremoring wail of your sons first breath.

"It's him. He's here."

There is awe there in Dieter’s voice, his eyes wide as he watches the moment his son is pulled from you. Feels his heart constrict as this tiny boy gives out a shuddering cry for the very first time.

Dieter laughs through tears as he watches his son, gold and puffy emerge, his smile dropping as he views patches of white creamy something over his body.

"Wait, what the fuck is that?" Dieter all but shouts. For a horrible moment he's terrified that it's from him fucking you so deeply last night.

"Vernix caseosa," the nurse says with laughter in her voice despite everything. "Protects him from the amniotic fluid in the womb."

Dieter sighs in relief as the squirming baby is pressed to your bare chest for skin-to-skin contact. Your chest is exposed but for once Dieter isn’t horny. He’s just struck dumb at the sight of this small creature nestling there against your body.

"Hi little boy."

Your son lifts his head shakily, eyes blinking slowly, blurrily trying to take you in. He knows your voice, his face instinctually tilting in your direction. Dieter gazes down at you, tears spilling over his cheeks as he sees the love so clear in your gaze.

"It's you," you whisper down at the cherub-like face of your son.

I'd know you anywhere.

Because you would. You don't know how but the second you see his chubby cheeks and long lashes you just know exactly who he is. You would have known him anywhere. He's a part of you. He's been a part of you so long it's surreal to see him outside, here against your skin on this side.

"Look at all his hair," Dieter marvels. "You were right."

He's tiny with long legs and a thick head of dark curls. His skin is a golden color and his fingers long like his dad’s. He’s got your ears and your toes though, and the sight makes you feel strangely giddy. That’s you in this little body, a small piece of you.

The doctor and nurses murmur at your feet, and you feel relief when one says "all good". No emergency blood loss, no anything. The sound of a pager goes off and doctor March stands.

"Got another delivery down the hall. Must be a full moon or something. Congrats mom and dad!"

"Thank you, Doctor March."

The doctor and most of the nurses file out of the room; leaving only two nurses standing beside the bed making notes on a clipboard before one gently removes your son from your chest. You give a little whimper of protest, eyes going wide.

"Just gonna weigh him and we'll bring him right back, Mom."

You watch them leave, already feeling incomplete without him there against you. You feel tears welling at your lash line.

"He's perfect," you say through hiccups.

You feel as Dieter shifts behind you, gingerly removing himself from the bed. He makes sure to do so slowly, ensuring you're propped up comfortably for when they bring your squirming newborn back.

"You did such a good job, baby," Dieter says, kissing your temple before his attention is drawn back to his son being weighed and measured. "Can't believe he's finally here."

You both watch as your son squirms and grunts during his examination, smiling gently when they lift him up and the tall one announces: "Seven pounds, three ounces and twenty one inches."

Dieter holds back his desire to make a dick joke.

The nurse holds your son clad in a tiny diaper. He looks so tiny in her hands. She prepares to hand him back to you but Dieter looks strangely animated, reaching into your go-bag bag next to the bed.

"Oh shit, I almost forgot. Petra made him this."

It's a tiny blue knitted hat. Both the nurses give girlish awwwww's at the sight of it. One gingerly puts it on your sons head before smiling at you.

"Okay Mom, let's do some more skin to skin and see if he'll eat in a little bit."

Mom. Mom. Mom. You’re a mom.

You're already nodding, arms outstretched. It feels wrong not to have him against you right now. The nurses help to wrap the robe you're wearing around him, almost like a swaddle.

You breathe slowly, taking in every second of this moment. He's so fucking small and his eyebrows are so tiny. Everything is just so little.

His mouth smacks together, grunting as his pink lips strain towards your nipple when they place him on your chest.

"Like father like son," you murmur to Dieter, so quiet only he can hear. He gives a loud chuckle and his son makes a small hiccupping sound in surprise. Dieter’s long fingers trace down his son’s back, marveling at the softness of his skin.

"I'm a Dad," Dieter murmurs, as if it's just hitting him now. His eyes slowly travel over to you, your gaze locked on the squirming infant on your chest. "And you're a mom."

"I'm a mom," you whisper and it feels right when you say it.

You were always his mom, from the moment he began to grow in your womb. You were mom. He'd known it long before you had. The kicks and the flutters. He knew you were his and tried to remind you at every turn.

"Thank you," Dieter whispers, eyes damp. "Thank you for bringing him to me."

"Thank you for helping me make him," you whisper back, the hot tears staining your cheeks. "Fuck, I feel like all I've done lately is cry."

Dieter and you share a laugh while the nurses call out that they'll be back to check on you three in a little while, pointing out the call button beside your bed if there's an issue.

They close the door to the suite behind them and suddenly the room is quiet, save for the sound of your son grunting against your chest as he gets comfortable.

"I want to be his mom."

"You are," Dieter says with a smile as he grabs the chair next to the hospital bed, his large palm resting on his son's back lightly when he settles back.

"No I mean... I want to be in his life. I want to see him every day. I want to help raise him."

You see the way Dieter’s body jerks as if he's been slapped. He stares over at you, eyes wide.

"You do?"

"Yeah," you sniffle. "Is that okay?"

"Are you kidding me?" Dieter is leaning over you gently, kissing you so soundly you whimper.

He pulls back, but not before giving a gentle kiss to the top of his sons head.

His eyes search yours, the sweet chestnut color softening the longer he looks at you. He brushes the hair from your face, thumb lingering on your jaw.

"That's all I've ever wanted."

The sincerity is there in both his expression and his husky voice. He means it. And suddenly guilt is the emotion that overtakes you, almost surging through your veins.

"I feel so guilty," you say, overcome with emotion. Your son makes a little squeaking noise before settling.

“Why, baby?”

“Because I closed myself off to everyone. Even him.”

How could you have ever thought of giving your son away? How could you have imagined he was nothing but cargo to be bartered? You kiss the top of his head, hoping that a lifetime of love will make up for months of apathy.

"I think losing my dad just made me so scared of loving someone else," you sniffle, kissing your son's downy head. "I mean my dad was a part of me. And now-"

You look down at your newborn son. The scrunch of his face as he yawns and you think that you've never seen anything quite as beautiful before.

"He's a part of me," you say softly. The tears fall down your cheeks without effort. "And he's the most perfect thing I've ever seen."

Dieter gazes down at his son. "He really is."

"I thought if I could just separate my feelings I could do it, you know? I could walk away unhurt. But then..."

You break off, but Dieter is riveted. "Then what?"

Your eyes blink furiously.

"That day I saw him for the first time I knew I couldn't walk away. I knew it. But I told myself I had to. That I couldn't stay attached."

This hurts Dieter. Knowing that it was months of this personal torture hurts him in a way that makes him breathless.

"Why, baby?"

"Because losing something you love breaks you. It takes a piece from you that never comes back." You rock your son gently. "And I've never loved anything as much as him. Even before he was here."

You’re trying in vain to hold the sobs back now. Your son makes a frowning face, lips smacking together once more before you falls back into his drowsy slumber.

"And I'm scared," you whisper. "Terrified, actually."

Dieter suddenly understands it all. The loss of you father, your inability to cope, your need for control and order. He sees how this challenged all of it and his heart shatters. Dieter runs his hands through your hair, pressing kisses to your cheek as he gently soothes you. You're crying, eyes squeezed shut.

"It's okay to be scared," Dieter murmurs against your ear. "I'm scared too."

You're exhausted and sore and emotionally wrung out. But that doesn't stop you from smiling gently up at him, hand going to brush the tears clinging to his lashes.

Soon the emotional and physical exhaustion comes in, lulling you into a slow slumber. Dieter watches the two loves of his life sleeping, both making the same little nose scrunches in their sleep. He sees so much of you in his son, the curve of his ears, the full of his upper lip. It makes him feel warm and contented.

You haven't confessed any long standing love for Dieter, but now that his son is here and you want to be a part of his life it doesn't matter. You'll be near him and that's enough for Dieter, even if that's all he can have. You'll be the most amazing mother and he'll support you any way he can. Of course it's been a draining day and he feels his emotions spinning off in all directions, but with a rosy hue of compassion.

Of course it hurts that you likely don't feel the same for him.

Images of Dieter and a toddler son dressed in suits dance across his exhausted mind. You under an arch in a wedding dress, leaning down with a smile and arms open as you son toddles down the aisle towards you. You marrying someone else, but with Dieter's support. Dieter doesn't look forward to the day you find your future husband, but he'll support it.

Love always felt selfish for Dieter. A way of staking claim: mine. But this love feels different. He just wants you happy. That's good enough for him.

One of the nurses comes back a short while later and you're still dozing with your son sleeping on your chest. One of the nurses pushes in a bassinet on wheels.

"Gonna put him in this so Mom can get some real rest," one of the nurses tells Dieter in a hush. "Do we have a name yet, Dad?"

"No, not yet," Dieter whispers back. "Can I put him in it?"

"Of course," the nurse says happily. "You know the correct hold?"

She shows him how to correctly hold the newborn supporting his neck and his spine. Then she leaves giving him a quiet congratulations.

Dieter looks down into his arms, rocking the small child - his son - gingerly as he begins to blubber. The tears slide down his nose and one lands on his son's bare belly. He twitches in his sleep before yawning and blinking up at Dieter.

And he feels it pass between them, this ancient sensation of home, of lineage, of love. Dieter thinks of his own father and his ambivalence. He can't understand how he could have ever walked away from his own creation. He stops crying long enough to see his son give a flash of a smile and then fall promptly back to sleep.

"You have your whole life ahead of you," Dieter tells his son, going to stand at the window, looking out into the sunshine filled day. "This world is just yours to conquer. Me and your Mama are gonna be there every step of the way."

You stir in the bed when you hear Dieter’s gentle rasp from the other side of the room. Your eyes flutter open to see him holding your son by the window, rocking him.

"Gonna give you everything I didn't have, gonna spend time with you and play catch and all that good dad shit."

You giggle gently at this, drawing Dieters attention your way.

"Did I wake you?"

You shake your head, watching with adoration as the man you love comes walking back with your son. You think Dieter has never been as perfect or as beautiful to you as when he’s holding your son safely in his broad arms.

"He needs a name," you murmur, watching your dozing child. "Where's your list?"

"Up here," Dieter says tapping his temple with his free hand before looking down at the slumbering infant in his arms. "But... Now that I see him, none of ‘em fit."

"Hmmmm," you purse your lips in thought, watching as Dieter carefully places him in the bassinet. The two of you lean over, watching your son in mild awe. A thought occurs to you.

"My mom doesn't know what room we're in."

"Oh I already texted her," Dieter says. "She's stuck in fucking LA traffic of course. She should be here soon. Lemme check.”

He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out and dropping his keys in the process. He picks them up and the keychain makes a soft clinking noise. The baby stirs in the bassinet, kicking out his tiny legs and tilting his head in the direction of the keys.

Dieter grins, holding them above his son. You see the green Jameson bottle from Ireland hanging off of it. You both look on as your tiny son’s fists tap against the enamel item, sending it spinning.

“He’s got good taste,” Dieter grins. “I’ll have to take him when he’s older.”

“Much older,” you say with mock warning.

The keychain spins again as the baby attempts to grip it with his tiny fingers. But he can’t, it’s much too early for that kind of coordination. The name of the brewery glints in the light and then like a flash you both meet eyes over the bassinet.

"Jameson." Dieter breathes with a crooked grin. "James."

"James Bravo.”

The two of you smile so widely your faces might break.

“I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s perfect. Hello James.”

Dieter and you gaze down at your son who’s now grown still, sleeping deeply.

“Now we just need a middle name," you say quietly as the two of you sit staring at him.

"What was your dad's name again?" Dieter asks quietly after a beat. "Michael, right?"

You slowly gaze up the length of Dieter, seeing the soft way he's looking at the baby and then over at you. Something swells behind your sternum.

"Yeah, Michael."

"That's a nice name," Dieter nods before smiling down at the squirming infant. "A good middle name for our son."

Our son.

Affection hits you like a ton of bricks in that moment. The fact that he remembered your dad's name. The way he calls Jameson your son as much as he is his own. The way he loves you so fucking ardently, the way he wanted to take care of you even if you didn’t feel the same as he did.

You think of this past year with Dieter, all the ways he showed her loved you, the way he protected you. You think of nights in his arms, laughing with him and the way you don't want to be without him anymore. You stare up at him from the bed, taking in the sleepy edge of his eyes, the tussled hair, the full mouth. He's fucking beautiful. How did you miss it this long?

You don't want anyone else. You just want him.

"Will you marry me?" you whisper without thought.

Dieter blinks over at you, eyes rounding and for a moment you tense. He's made it clear that he cares for you but maybe this is too much too fast. You haven’t exactly been forward with how you feel about him until now.

"You wanna marry me?"

"Yeah," you say smiling dopily up at him. "I do."

Dieter lets out a little sound somewhere between a laugh and a gasp and before you can say anything more his broad palms are on either side of your face, holding you there so that he can kiss you soundly before pulling back, looking concerned.

"Might be the drugs," he worries.

"No drugs remember?"

"Might be post birth delirium."

"I don't think that's it," you assure him, thumb stroking the patch in his beard that doesn't grow. "Might be because I've never had someone care for me like you do. Might be because I don't want to be apart from you or our son. Might be because I'm madly in love with you and have been for a while now. Might be because I’ve never loved someone the way I love you."

Dieter feels like his heart is expanding so rapidly it might crack his ribcage. Seeing you there in the bed with your hair disheveled, your face flushed and your eyes starry and soft as you gaze up at him, Dieter feels an almost incapacitating sensation of adoration for you.

You're so rarely soft with anyone. Because of this he knows what you've admitted is monumental for so many reasons. Tears spring to his eyes, and his smile is watery.

You picked him. You want him.

He clamors into the bed next to you again, pulling you into his arms gingerly. His mouth is pressing against yours again, wet eyes squeezed shut. He holds you with the kind of care and affection he has always shown you.

"Fuck yes I'll marry you," he whispers against your lips.

You giggle against his mouth when he kisses you again and the sound hits him everywhere.

"I want you to come home with our son as my wife and I want to make you two the happiest people alive."

He melts against you as your arms wrap around his neck, fingers trailing in the curls at the base of his skull.

"I love you, Dieter."

He whispers his love for you against your neck, rocking you. You let him kiss you slowly, mouths moving languidly. You sigh as he dabs his tongue against yours before he abruptly pulls back.

He pushes back from the bed, gaze suddenly distracted. It startles you.

"Diet-"

Before you can even finish his name he's taken off, his crocs slapping against the hospital floor. Then it’s just you and James in the suite, shaking your head with a laugh.

"What is your dad up to?" You ask the sleepy baby in the bassinet. You turn back to face the doorway, heart leaping when you recognize a woman in scrubs strolling by.

"Mom!"

Your Mom is already sobbing when she runs into the room and you expect her to make a run directly for the baby. But instead she’s going to you, holding your face in her hands and kissing your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, the fucking traffic-“

“It’s okay,” you assure her. “Dieter was and he was wonderful.”

“He’s early,” she comments, eyes flitting to the bassinet before going back to you.

"Just like his dad, he has a flair for the dramatic," you grin. "Couldn't wait until his due date."

“How are you feeling?”

“Good Mom, I promise,” you say, smirking at her frazzled expression. Your mother takes a deep breath, nodding. She shrugs off her jacket before going to scrub her hands in the sink. She comes back over to you, her eyes wet.

“I’m so proud of you. Your dad would be too.”

You let the tears fall again, accepting that this is just what you do now, you cry all the fucking time. Your mother stands next to the bed, holding you around the shoulders and rocking you like she did when you were little. You cry into her shoulder, overwhelmed and hormonal.

“So do you want to meet my son?” you ask sniffling.

Your mother’s eyes alight to the bassinet before drawing back to you.

“Your son?”

“My son,” you confirm, chin wobbling. “Your grandson. Jameson Michael Bravo. James for short.”

And now your Mom bursts into tears, thick fat ones that pour down her cheeks. And you know she’s not crying for James, or for the beauty of this birth. She sniffles heavily before going over to the bassinet. She sees Jameson's shock of dark hair and you watch her melt.

"Oh he's beautiful."

“You might be a bit biased.”

"I am," she laughs.

The two of you are still laughing when Dieter returns to the room slightly out of breath, a young man in tow. When he sees your mother he waves and pulls her into a tight hug. You watch the two of them embrace, still shocked at their closeness.

"Mimi! Perfect, we need a witness."

You realize now that the young man Dieter urges over to your bed is wearing a collar and holding a bible.

"Dieter, why have you brought a priest here?"

"He just gave last rites to some guy on the other floor," Dieter explains with a wide beaming grin. "I told him about you and me and he said he'd be happy to perform the ceremony right now."

Dieter is absolutely lack of impulse control personified.

You're about to answer when you hear the sound of your mother's voice.

"No, no, no," your mother tuts, shaking her head. "You are not getting married in a hospital ten minutes after giving birth."

Dieter gives her imploring eyes. "But Mimi-"

"Didi, you and my daughter got pregnant, hid it, gave birth and are now engaged." Your mother lists these off with sharp clarity. "I beg of you, let me have my way with this. I only get to be mother of the bride once."

“Okay,” Dieter relents, understanding that perhaps this is a fair compromise.

He debates something for a moment before taking your right hand. The claddagh ring he bought you is tight thanks to the pregnancy, but it finally slips off. He slips it onto your left finger, heart facing out.

And so the wedding is postponed for six months.

(If you’re honest, you’re pretty relieved. Getting married wearing a sweaty hospital robe while your vagina healed wasn’t exactly your idea of a dream scenario.) It takes about that long to move all your things into Dieter’s place and to get life sort of under control.

Being together as a family of three is better than you could have ever imagined it. You’re both fucking exhausted and unwashed for the first few weeks, but it doesn’t matter because you’re doing it together.

Watching Dieter as a father makes you fall in love with him in a completely different way. Watching as he carries your son in his arms, gently swaying him after being fed.

"He smells so good," he murmurs.

Dieter is as much a parent as you are, insisting that you did the heavy lifting for the last nine months and that he should do his part. The first time he tells you this after changing and putting James back down at 2 am you suck Dieter’s cock so well he almost cries.

Your mother all but moved in the first three weeks insisting that you’d need her help. As much as you wanted to deny this, Dieter had been excitedly setting up the guest house for her before the offer was out of her mouth. Roach free.

You definitely get on each other’s nerves for the following months, tired and grouchy at times. Petra and Magda are there and like to give advice. Sometimes you take it; sometimes you and Dieter roll your eyes at one another.

But mostly you grin stupidly at each other and kiss like you’re in high school. You love kissing. He’s so sweet and gentle until he’s licking into your mouth and grinding against you on the couch. Dieter doesn’t want to rush you into bed after the birth so it’s you two months post partum who tackles him during James’ nap time and rides him, telling him he’s “such a good Daddy.”

Dieter is in heaven. That’s the only way to describe it.

“I love you,” you murmur in the mornings when he brings you over a smoothie. He always kisses you slow and sweet before replying.

“I love you too, baby.”

This love, this free flowing mutual adoration incapacitates him at times. It brings him to his knees knowing that his love is returned in equal measure. His phone is full of covert photos he’s taken of you with James. His favorite is the one of you passed out on the couch. You’re wearing only your panties and socks. Your hair is unkempt and James snuggles against you, both back lit by the early morning sun.

He wants to show everyone the photo, wants to tell everyone proudly that this is his son and soon-to-be-wife. But you’ve made it very clear that while Dieter is fine with the spotlight, your son will not be until he’s old enough to choose it.

He shares only one photo on his social media announcing the birth. One of Jameson’s left foot with the caption: He’s finally here.

Diane approved it.

You’re relaxing in the tufted chair in the nursery, feeding James when an alert comes through on your phone.

Bravo spotted looking at engagement rings.

Oh right. You still have his name flagged for alerts.

You smile a little to yourself as you read the article about Dieter travelling all over California in search of the perfect ring. Your heart races even though you know very well that you're getting married shortly.

There's another alert ding on your phone and you see it's a text from Mia.

[3:21pm] MIA: Congrats lovebirds. I knew he'd get his shit together eventually. So happy for you both.

You grin widely.

You didn't expect to find such deep affection for Mia, but you can't help but love her. After all, without her you may never have truly faced how you felt about Dieter. And from the stories Dieter has told you over the last few months, Mia may have been instrumental in the two of you getting together in the first place. It’s what prompts you to reply with a photo of you and James snuggling.

[3:22pm] Any chance you feel like taking on the role of godmother?

You and Dieter had talked about it; he’d been worried you’d think it strange. But it hadn’t felt strange at all. It had felt somehow right that she be a part of James’ life.

[3:22pm] MIA: Thought you’d never ask.

The wedding is an intimate one of less than fifty people. Your dress is over the top and exactly the kind of thing that Dieter imagined you in. Your son is done up in the tiniest and most elaborate baby tuxedo you’ve ever seen. You both cry all the way through your vows as your mother sits with James in the front row, a picture of your father beside her.

The wedding takes place in a sweet little village in Chile where Dieter grew up. It’s where his parents met and where his mother is buried. He has a few relatives there who insist on helping with everything.

Dieter isn’t expecting the emotions that come flooding back. Ones that take his breath away when he sees the photos of his mom still hung in his Aunt’s house. The ones of him missing teeth, arms around her and a look of absolute contentment in his youthful features.

“She would have loved you both so much,” he whispers as the two of you stare at them.

“I know, baby.”

And just like when he took your hand and led you through that sea of paparazzi, you take his hand and do the same. You guide him through the first few days where he feels emotionally raw and strangely quiet. You lead him through the days of family reunion and wedding planning. And finally you take his hand and walk with him to the graveyard where his mother is buried.

He takes his son from you, kissing his tiny nose before kneeling in front of the tombstone. He places a hand on its marble surface and he lets the tears fall.

“Mama this is your grandson, James.”

Not long after you return home Dieter is called to do online press for a franchise he’s been signed on for. One that will keep him filming locally for the next couple of years. The interview is being streamed on Tiktok Live, much to your amusement as you watch from home, reclined with a sleeping James on your chest.

Dieter sits in one of the chairs, looking remarkably handsome as the interviewer asks him questions from those that pop up in the comment section. The viewers at home would never have known he’d been covered in baby puke only hours before.

“Mr. Bravo thank you so much for coming out.”

“My pleasure,” Dieter smiles. You sigh at how handsome he is just existing. Your eyes draw down to the comment section that pops up, many of them causing you to giggle to yourself as you read them.

He’s so fucking hotttt Hit my line, Daddy, plz SPIT IN MY MOUTH Is he wearing a wedding ring??? I love his hair SHUT UP HE’S SO HOT. I’M EATING DRYWALL I have thots

“There’s a lot of frenzy from the comment section,” the interviewer says, shaking her blonde hair from her face and reading some of them out loud.

“User3766 wants to know: will you be wearing the cape that others have donned in the past for the same character?”

“Nah, I’m not a cape guy,” Dieter says shaking his head. “They seem a bit overdone.”

“That seems to be the consensus online,” the woman says with a nod and warm smile.

“GlitterPonyz asks: Why did you choose to be in this franchise after famously telling the world that after Cliff Beasts you were done with franchises altogether?”

“Because the filming takes place mostly around California which means I get to be home to my wife and son most nights,” Dieter says with a crooked grin.

"So the rumors are true?" The interviewer asks.

"Yep," Dieter smiles with a slight blush to his cheeks. "She'd have been Mrs. Bravo a long time ago if she wasn't so damn stubborn."

At this he winks playfully at the camera before the interviewer dives into more questions. You can almost feel Diane rolling her eyes in frustration off-screen.

"Dieter!" You groan with a pained laugh at your phone.

So much for waiting to share the good news! At least your mother knew about this one before the rest of the world.

Jameson stirs slightly in your arms, still sleepy and warm after swimming with auntie Madga and Petra all morning in the pool. He smells like the coconut lotion you rubbed into his pudgy arms and face and you inhale, sighing.

You compose a text to Dieter.

[11:02am]:You said we were gonna keep it quiet! [11:02am]D: Couldn't help it. Wanted everyone to know you're all mine.

You send a photo of Jameson that you took earlier.

[11:03am]: He says he's worried he'll be fatherless once Diane gets through with you. [11:03am]D: Nah. She told me she understood. [11:03am]: Really? [11:04am]D:Yeah. Said that a child and a wife could only help my image.

You laugh to yourself. You take another photo, this one of you and the baby in frame, you smiling up at him.

[11:05am]: We miss you. Xo [11:05am]D: Can't wait till I get home to you both. Shouldn't be too much longer. Love you baby mama!!!!! [11:05am]: We'll be waiting for you, baby. Love you more Xo

Your mother comes in smiling and carrying a cup of lemonade for you.

"So he couldn't keep it a secret," your mom says with an affectionate shake of her head as you tell her about the video.

"Silly boy."

She says it with a mother's fondness.

She takes Jameson from you, citing that she needs some time with her grandson as if she doesn’t already see him three times a week when she visits. You don’t mind at all.

Most of your days are taken up with James. Baby classes, hiking, swimming and more. Your education isn't going anywhere, but time with your son at this age is fleeting. You like that there's not that pressure to perform anymore.

When you do return to your studies after Jameson’s’ first birthday it’s for your love of learning, not because of some pressure you’ve put on yourself. You do a course once a semester online, just to keep yourself sharp for when you decide you'll return full time.

On days when you really have to study Dieter takes Jameson out to the park or for ice cream and you can hear him whispering "Shhh we have to be quiet so Mama can study and get even smarter!"

When you’re not doing that, you’re on the board for Dieter’s charity funding medical procedures in developing worlds. Something you find yourself so passionate about and as Dieter commented you spend his money well.

Award shows still have you on edge. The screaming and the flashbulbs always have you gripping Dieter, but he is always there with a hand at the small of your back, never letting you go. Sometimes if Dieter has to film overseas and you miss him even after hanging up with him, you watch old interviews or old movies with him in it. You can’t help but giggle every time you see him. When you watch The Rogue Heiress you giggle and send him off a photo of you pointing at the screen and winking. His response is immediate.

[9:07am]D: Missing your favorite sausage?

“Bravo!” you say with a light chuckle.

“Bwavoh!" A tiny voice echoes behind you.

Your son comes toddling towards you, his large eyes full of mischief just like his dad. His hair is your color, but it’s got those wild waves like his father. No matter how much you brush it, it’s still impossible to keep looking tidy.

"No, no baby," you say gathering your son into your arms and giggling. "That's Papa. See him?"

Jameson nods and claps at the screen where a serious looking Dieter frowns at his colleague.

"Papa!"

Jameson is three when you and Dieter decide to renovate the main bedroom. Now that your Masters is done and your attention not as fixated on it you want something a little more ‘you’ in the space and Dieter is more than happy to oblige. He’d tear down the whole thing if you wanted to.

You’re both midway through pulling out things from the big closet when he hears your muffled shout from the back.

“What the fuck?"

Dieter looks up to see you laughing.

“Why do you have an old camcorder in here?"

"I used to use it for.... Adult sleepovers," Dieter tells you with a sly grin. "When we wanted to...immortalize the moment if you will."

"Oooo," you give him a flirty wink. "And when was the last memorable performance captured?"

Dieter squints his eyes as he folds a blanket, trying to recall. "Uh, some blonde guy I was seeing for a bit. Ryan something."

You're immediately taken back to the time you walked in on Dieter with the hot guy blonde man with his head between Dieter's legs.

"Was he blonde with facial hair by any chance?"

"Uh, yeah," Dieter looks at you curiously.

You feel your thighs clenching tightly together. Dieter doesn't miss this and a mischievous smile crosses his features.

"You wanna watch it, baby?"

"I mean, Jameson is at Grandma's all night" you say with a cheeky grin. "Why don't you go get this hooked up to the television while I pop some wine?"

"Sounds perfect."

“Oh my gosh we look so young!”

“It was only four years ago, Dieter.”

“Yeah, but look at my hair.”

“Ugh, look at mine.”

“I love it.”

Dieter pulls you tighter to him, practically onto his lap as you watch the two of you drunkenly move onscreen.

"My name is Dieter Bravo and this is my assistant," he slurs as he motions to your wobbling frame attempting to stand beside him. "And we're making this video because we're gonna make a baby together."

You tilt towards the camera, your eyes half closed.

"And I want it on-on-on record," you stutter. "That I'm getting three hundred thousand dollars for this baby he's putting inside me right now."

You point to your stomach as Dieter nods blearily.

"We're so fucking drunk," you say with a laugh as you and Dieter sip your wine. "It's a miracle we didn't pass out before we got to the bed."

"I'm half convinced you picked it up from the toilet seat at this point, Christ. Did I just fall?"

You look back just in time to see Dieter tripping over himself onto the ground before jumping back up as if nothing happened.

"Okay, let's make the baby now," Dieter says, taking your hand in his.

"Okay!" You nod, walking with him towards the bed a few steps away.

"Left the fucking camera on," you say with a roll of your eyes. "So dumb."

"Too excited to get to the good stuff to remember things like turning off cameras," Dieter grins, fingers trailing down your spine in the soothing way he knows you like.

When you see Dieter sit on the edge of the bed and pull you into his lap you can't help but flush.

When he grabs your face and drags your mouth to his you're shocked to see how easily your arms wrap around his neck. This is further compounded by the obvious sight of your tongue slipping into his mouth, causing you both to groan onscreen.

You and Dieter hold your breath as you watch the screen. Despite it being yourselves only a year ago it feels strangely voyeuristic to watch these two morons kiss sloppily on the bed.

Suddenly you pull back, cheeks flushed and panting.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah," Dieter nods, looking excited. "I love secrets. And I'm good at keeping them. No one knows that Hugh and Taron fucked the whole time on-"

Dieter pauses, looking concerned.

"Oops, wasn't supposed to say."

You're only half paying attention because apparently undoing your strappy shoes is a struggle at this point. Dieter sees this and flops to the ground, tugging at them. You glance down at him with a smile when he finally unravels both.

"Tada!"

You give an exaggerated clap at if what he's done is truly remarkable. Dieter shifts into the center of the bed.

"So what's the secret?"

"My secret is I have a crush on my boss," you say with a drunken giggle as you kick off your heels and crawl towards him.

"Really?"

"Yeah." You draw your face to his. "But don't tell him."

You situate yourself on his lap, hips rolling against his.

"Okay I won't," Dieter agrees, his mouth chasing yours before he suddenly stops, eyes wide. "Wait, I'm your boss!"

"Oh right," you say, pulling at your shirt and giggling.

"Well well well," Dieter says from beside you on the couch his mouth on your ear. "Looks like someone had a crush on their boss the whole time."

Your cheeks burn as your drunken self makes this proclamation. You can’t stop watching as the two of your younger selves continue on.

You struggle with your bra for several moments as Dieter tugs off his clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

"Fuck you have nice tits," Dieter slurs as he leans back into the pillows.

"Yeah? I like em," you say proudly cupping them, running your fingertips over them until they're hard little buds. "Wanna touch em?"

"With my mouth."

"Okay."

“Still got nice tits,” Dieter says, hand slipping up your t-shirt. You sigh, leaning back against him and feeling as his palm cups your breast.

You keen onscreen, head tilted back as Dieter licks and sucks at your nipples before Dieter pulls his mouth from you.

"I like you," Dieter says almost shyly as you sit in his lap. He's holding you there, naked and waiting and instead of fucking you, he's looking into your face, utterly entranced. "I've liked you for a long time."

Your drunken self obviously isn't one for heartfelt remarks because as Dieter admits this, you have a mischievous look in your face.

" Do you touch yourself when you think of me?" You ask in a slur. It's not visible due to your positioning and the angle of the camera, but you can see that your hand goes to grip his cock and begin to stroke.

"Yeah," Dieter whimpers, eyes on your hand and then back to your face. "All the time."

You grin, your hand pumping him quickly. Dieter's face goes slack, eyes half closed as he leans back on his hands.

"Y-you gotta stop," Dieter grunts. "Or I'm gonna f-fuck, gonna come."

Your drunk self shrugs at this before you raise yourself up only to slide down his twitching length all the way until your cunt is nestled in the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. Immediately his arms are around you, holding you as your hips move against his.

You sigh, head lolling forward as Dieter whimpers.

"Wanted to fuck you for so long, Dieter."

Even in his drunken state, Dieter looks shocked at your murmured admission.

"Yeah?”

"Yeah," you nod, wrists on his shoulders. "Ever since I saw you with the blonde man... I just .. oh fuck, right there... Fuck... Ever since I saw you with him I couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to ride your cock."

"Fuck," Dieter groans, mouth kissing down your sternum. "You're riding it so well, baby."

"Wanted to bounce on it," you say breathlessly.

Dieter makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

"Fuck, bounce on it," Dieter all but begs, gazing up at you face. "Bounce on it for me now."

You do, sliding your feet to either side of his hips. You arch back, sliding up his glossy length before sinking down onto it. You do this several times and with each pass Dieters moans get louder. You tits jolt with every bounce.

You are not immune to Dieter's cock lengthening in his sweatpants under you.

"You're so fucking big," you groan, hips rutting against his.

"Keep talking," Dieter all but begs as he starts to fuck up into you. "Keep going, baby, I'm so fucking hard right now."

"Wanna do this all the time," you groan, arms behind your neck, stretching lazily above you, showcasing your body, your tits, your sensuality.

"Fuck, you do?" Dieter pants, his hand going to caress your ass as you roll your hips.

"Uh huh," you nod, your rhythm increasing as your arms go around his neck. "Wanna do this every night and then go out for pancakes."

"I love pancakes," Dieter enthuses. Your head moves towards his, eyes half open.

"So we'll get pancakes?"

"Yes, baby," Dieter promises, mouth finding yours.

You give a satisfied hum as his arms go around you and he gently maneuvers you onto your back. He holds your hands on either side of your head, fingers laced as he gently sinks into you.

He groans when he watches your head tilt back into the pillow, exposing your throat and your tits.

"Dieter, it’s so fucking good," you groan as your head tilts back, eyes closed. "How do you feel so fucking good?"

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, eyes transfixed on your rolling breasts.

His hips drive into you now, but it's slow and tender. Your thighs flex slowly around his middle. You're soaked, practically dripping onto his sheets. Your eyes are open, glossy and gazing up into his face.

"Never knew it could feel this good," you murmur up at him.

"It doesn't usually," Dieter grins down at you. "You must have a magic pussy or something."

"Christ," Dieter mutters, holding a hand over his eyes in embarrassment.

You've been hiding your face in your hands, humiliated at everything showing up on the screen. But at Dieter’s admission you can’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Magic pussy, Dieter? Really?”

“I swear I’ve never used that term before.”

The two of you continue writhing slowly against one another on the screen for what feels like forever. The sounds of your kissing and your moans flooding the room.

"You close?" Dieter groans, tongue coming to lick your neck.

"Uh huh," you nod, your hips starting to rut against his in earnest. Dieter still holds your hands pinned to the mattress as he drives himself up into you, his movements still slow and measured.

"C'mon baby," he encourages. "I wanna feel it."

"Yes," you breathe, hips rolling against his. "Fuck yes, I-"

You've never watched yourself orgasm before. The sight isn't anything like porn. You don't make cute little faces or noises.

You arch almost violently, brows knitting together as you make a stuttering cry in the back of your throat. Dieter fucks you through it, eyes transfixed.

"Fuck baby, yes, just like that. Oh fuck, come for me."

You shudder around him, your voice cracked as you cry out his name. Dieter kisses his name from your lips before he begins to piston in and out of you, grunting your name before he too follows. His body shivers as he finally empties himself into you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, panting heavily and gazing into one another’s eyes. Then he dips his face to yours, capturing your mouth in a soft kiss. He pulls slowly away from you, averting his eyes as you pull on your dress.

You roll onto your side, facing Dieter. Your arm goes around his neck, and to Dieter's obvious delight, you kiss him gently. Then you spin around, facing the camera once more with your eyes closed and a little smile on your face.

"Goodnight," Dieter says, pulling your back against him.

"Night," you reply back with a yawn, snuggling back into his embrace.

The two of you lay like this for a moment and Dieter raises the remote, about to turn the video off when you hear his voice on the recording.

"I hope we made a baby," Dieter murmurs, eyes closed.

You smile, hand going to cover Dieters at your waist.

"Me too."

The tape continues on with the two of you sleeping. After a minute Dieter turns it off and the two of you lapse into a thoughtful silence. You’re still in his lap and you tilt your head to face him, seeing his eyes damp.

Your heart hiccups at the realization that you both wanted each other long before you could even understand it. Your mouth finds his, and it’s not long before the moment is heated, his hand crawling up your shirt again.

"Fuck baby, I need you," Dieter groans, tugging your panties off. He stops for a moment, hand groping in his sweatpants pockets for a condom.

“Don’t,” you say, hand coming to rest over his. “Let’s do it without.”

You’ve been thinking about it for a few months now, surprising even yourself. You thought you’d never want to be pregnant again, but thoughts of a dark-eyed girl with a dimple in her cheek have been there in your dreams as of late.

“Really?”

“Thought we could do it properly this time,” you tell him with a soft kiss, arms around his broad shoulders. “Baby showers, Lamaze classes, being in love at the same time and all that.”

You wait for his decision, nibbling at your lower lip. Dieter beams, holding you tightly to him and marveling that you’re here, still as in love with him as he is with you. He kisses you sweetly, mouth curled into a smile.

“I mean it’s unconventional but I’d love to give it a shot.”

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

a/n: Thanks to everyone who loved Bubble as much as me.

One thing I do wanna address is that I wanna make it clear that women do not have to have children to be a family. You can be a family with just your partner. I also don't believe in shaming those who chose to remain childless (I'm the president of that club) or women that choose to have them (thank you! I love being an auntie!)

Okay, that's a wrap folks - onto my next tale!

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

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iamasaddie · 11 months

Text

a hungry dog on a very short leash

paring: dark!bfd!Joel x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 4k~ summary: one time you decide to cheat on your boyfriend is obviously the time his dad catches you a/n: I don't know how and why this happened, but I feel like this might turn into a series if it gets enough love! Special thanks to my beta for this work @multiversed-daydreamer <;3 warnings: dead dove do not eat; dub-con; no-outbreak; PWP (for real, no plot at all); manipulation; infidelity; explicit sexual content; oral sex (m receiving); degradation/praise; unsafe PinV; face slapping (barely); dirty talk; mention of anal; pain kink; no use of y/n MY MASTERLIST PART TWO ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪʀʟ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

You wished you had a better excuse for yourself when a towering figure of your boyfriend's dad tapped you on the shoulder, taking you away from the embrace of some cute stranger whose tongue was halfway kissing your glands, but you didn't. When you saw the furrowed brow of your might-be father-in-law the only thing on your tongue was a sticky 'oh fuck'.

You jumped up from the boy's lap so fast your head went dizzy and the man in front of you grabbed you by the shoulder to keep you steady.

"Mr. Miller," you stuttered, "it's not -"

"Please, don't insult me by saying it's not what I think it is."

No, it was exactly what he thought it was. You, his son's girlfriend, having fun with a guy who most definitely was not his son. The reason was not that important, not to him, at least.

You wanted to start explaining right away, how you've had a rough patch, how you seemed to only fight, how every fucking thing he did begin to drive you insane. How you couldn't even fuck him without getting irritated. How you just wanted… And that was where you were stuck. You had no fucking idea what you wanted. You had no idea what to tell Jason's pleading eyes when he asked you what should he do to make you happy. The only answer you had was 'don't be you', but it was too cruel to say out loud. So you decided to find out what it was you were looking for and somehow it made you end up where you were. In a shady club on the outskirts of town, where the music was too loud and the drinks too watered down, with your boyfriend's dad staring at you disapprovingly.

The stream of excuses and almost spilled tears flow out of you and the next thing you know is you're being enveloped in a bear hug, large hands swiping up and down your back in an comforting motion.

"I know, baby, I know." Joel's voice was deep in your ears, his usual green flannel was soft as you fisted the material on his sides, still shaking. "But I have to tell him, you know that, right?"

You shook your head, face still pressed into his broad chest, begging him against it, telling him you'd fix everything, you'd tell him yourself. You didn't even know why you cared that much, you were close to breaking your two-year relationship yourself, but the thought of Joel telling him mortified you. He let you go, studying your face and swiping a tear that escaped your eye.

"Let's go somewhere more quiet to talk, okay?"

You nodded in agreement and let him lead you to the area with private rooms. The space looked vulgar: there was no way the brown leather couch was clean, but you couldn't see it under the glitching red lights. The music filling the place was quieter and definitely was not meant to be danced to. You sat on the couch when he patted a place next to him.

"Now, I know Jason's a bit... immature when it comes to life, all of its' aspects. And I know that a girl like you must have desires, needs my son can't meet." His face looked different in red, you didn't want to see it, but it almost seemed demonic.

You hurried to oppose him.

"He's - -"

Joel raised his hand not letting you continue. "But if only you came to me, sugar, I wouldn't have the need to tell him, y'know? Since I know you're being safe and ain't gonna give my boy anything, ain't gonna break his heart, when it's just physical... It wouldn't hurt him. But when you go around the bars like that," he vaguely motioned on a tight silver dress hugging your body like a second skin, "whoring yourself out - -"

"I - - " You tried again, ignoring his bluntness and an endearment lost between condescending words, he huffed, and it sounded irritated.

"I didn't ask, sweetheart, I just call it how I see it. Let's make it a mutually pleasurable experience, hm? I'll help you way more, of course, but you can just owe me a thanks."

At that moment, when your head welcomed the gravity in a form of a nod, you couldn't explain to yourself why you cared about Jason so much that you were ready for any perverted thing his dad would demand. Was it even about Jason?

"Good girl. Come 'ere, darlin’"

You shuffled closer, your thighs flush against each other, but Joel tsk’d and in a flash of light his massive hand enveloped your thighs, pulling you on top of him to straddle his lap. You squeaked and he lightly slapped your thighs, rough palms creeping further and sliding up your already bunched up dress, fully exposing your legs and neon pink thongs.

"This thing here," he swiped his finger along the band of your panties, barely touching what was hidden with them. "It is like a neon sign 'fuck me, please'. Not a thing you'd wear if you weren't planning on having sex tonight, is it?"

You shook your head, not knowing if you're agreeing with him or the opposite.

"It's okay, baby," he took his right hand from your thigh and brought your face close to his by the chin. His left hand kept on your waist, thumb pressing a bit lower than your belly button. "I understand." His whisper was hot on your lips and when you once again opened your mouth to explain, or say sorry or anything, he used the moment to dive into you, crashing your mouths together. His beard prickled your chin and his lips were anything but gentle. Molding you to fit him, biting your lower lip so you would open your mouth further and let him inside, which you did. You hoped to taste alcohol - preferably a lot of it - on his tongue, something that would give a better explanation to what was happening, but the best you could find on his tongue was a hint of beer and cigarettes.

His hands slowly mapped your body, meeting around your neck. You were hot, your brain was melting from the lack of oxygen and the terrifying knowledge that Joel Miller was an excellent kisser and your body recognized it against all morals.

His tongue caressed you just right, teeth biting your soft flesh a bit too rough, but instead of pained, the moan that erupted from you was satisfied.

"Are you enjoying this, baby?" He looked amused, his eyes blinking with perverted pleasure. You were silent, your unsteady breathing betraying you. He lifted his hips a little, his clothed bulge hitting the wet spot on your panties roughly. "Come on now, get on your knees, I want you to kiss me somewhere else."

Your eyes widened, arousal being put on halt as the reality of what was happening overwhelmed your senses.

"Don't make me repeat myself." Patience seemed to run thin in Joel, opening the gates to something way more dark as his grip on your neck tightened. You felt if he squeezed you a bit more he'd leave a bruising handprint on your neck. Slowly slipping from his tense thighs you settled on your knees between his widely spread legs. "Go on." His eyes pointed to his ever growing bulge and you could swear you saw fire dancing in his pupils as your shaking hands started undoing his jeans.

He let out a sigh of relief as your hands let his cock spring free, the massive size of him intimidating to say the least. The last thing you wanted to do is compare him to your boyfriend - his son - but a rapid thought of how Jason had nothing on his father neither in terms of size nor girth still ran through your mind. His shaft was thick, you knew you wouldn't be able to wrap your hand around it and your insides clenched. He was veiny and tan, dark tip glistening with precum, inviting you to wrap your lips around it. You stared at it for a good minute, calculating how the fuck you're going to fit inside you - mouth or cunt - all good seven inches of him. You doubted he actually wanted to just kiss it.

"I know my cock's impressive, but stop fucking staring at it and get to sucking.

The polite, almost gentle Mr. Miller was nowhere to be seen, and he grabbed the back of your head, fingers tangling your hair as he guided you to his cock.

You did kiss it at first, getting to know the feeling of his hot skin under your lips, the salty taste of him on your tongue, the odor of his sweat and cologne - did he fucking sprayed perfume on his balls? - invading your lungs.

"I hoped you knew that 'kissing' was a euphemism." He quite literally took the matters in his own hands, squeezing your cheeks painfully and forcing his dick inside your hot mouth. Joel was too wound up or cared too little, going as hard as he did, shoving as much of his length inside you as he could - which wasn't a lot before you started gagging and gasping for air. Your hands went to his thighs, nails digging in the coarse material of his jeans as you tried to push away against his deadly grip.

"Now, now, baby, I know you can do better than that. Didn't my boy train that little throat of yours?" You moaned in protest, saliva dripping from the corners of your stretched lips and the man above you groaned in pleasure as another inch of his cock slipped inside. "I guess not."

You couldn't do anything but let him use your mouth as he pleased, bobbing your head up and down. "Come on, you need to take every inch, love. You're already doing great for me."

Something wild stirred your insides as a familiar wave of need dampened your panties further and you squeezed your thighs together either to get some relief. yourself or to suffocate your pleasure. You didn't notice when Mr. Miller's grip on your head loosened and you started to willingly force his cock down your throat.

You felt tears streaming down your cheeks in constant black waterfalls. Your eyes stung and your throat was full of his cock, but you continued inching further, the desire to touch the base of his cock with your lips ripping at your insides. You tried to see Joel through the tears, even with the blurred vision you saw his smile.

It was asymmetric and thin, almost maniacal.

"I love when you suffer for me, baby girl. You look so good crying on my cock." You gasped and as soon as your front teeth barely touched the sensitive skin of his cock you felt a slap burning on your left cheek.

"Careful, you don't wanna hurt me," the caress of his rough palm felt more painful, when he whispered a barely-audible "darling."

You nodded as much as you could, full of his flesh that somehow continued growing in you no matter how you tried to get used to it. He was close, you knew it by the breaths that were colored with little growls now, by the fact that he didn't say much more besides moans interrupted by occasional 'good slut, baby, such a good cockwhore' that made you squirm and press the heel of your foot harder into your aching core. The rough pull of hand that tugged you by your hair off his saliva coated cock took you by surprise, though. You were ready to feel his hot cum trickle down your throat, almost anticipating it, but when his hard angry length stared at you and he forcefully evened his breathing you knew how mistaken you were. Your eyes traveled back to his face in time to see him open his previously tightly shut eyes. He gave you another one of his smiles and patted your cheek, not caring about saliva and his precum covering your flesh.

"Good fucking girl," he exhaled, "but I have something else in mind."

You shivered when he got up, cock still free and bobbing, almost hypnotizing you to follow it with your gaze. You didn't get a chance, though, as he gripped your shoulders and brought you to your shaking feet. He looked you up and down, twisting his head to the side as his eyes stopped at your thongs. Without so much as a word, his large hand palmed your whole pussy, his fingers thick and warm against your aching core when he pressed into your still covered hole. "I see you're having as much fun as I am, baby. Good to know."

An involuntary moan escaped your throat before you could kill it when his palm pressed on your clit that by now was begging for any kind of attention.

He nodded to the couch. He didn't need to tell you what to do as you obediently climbed on it, draping yourself on the backseat, your pussy on the display for him.

He landed on the seat, his body half turned to you as his palm caressed your naked ass. The guilt filled your senses because at that moment you wanted nothing more than for his fingers to stray further, touch your dripping pussy no matter how wrong this all was. Be careful what you wish for, or whatever that bullshit saying was, you thought, as his fingers roughly yanked your panties down, a string of your arousal following with the garment.

"Fuck, now this pretty pussy just looks sinfully juicy." Joel hummed approvingly as he slid two of his thick fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around. He spread your lips and you gasped at the feeling of being so exposed.

"What a gorgeous hole, screaming to be filled, isn't it?" Apparently the question was rhetorical, because he immediately pushed both digits inside you, the stretch not yet painful but intense. He pumped into you a couple of times before letting out a whistle. "Damn, baby, you want my cock so bad your cunt is practically crying all over my fingers."

His fingers continued his twisted caresses, kissing and stretching your walls, sending a shameful shiver down your ass. "I love how needy you are, must've been neglected for so long."

Joel took his fingers out and you heard a slurping sound. 'He's fucking licking his fingers,’ you clenched your butt at the thought of it and felt the couch shift as he stood up, standing behind you with one leg still pressing into the couch to the left of you for more balance. "Don't worry, baby, I won't let this pussy starve." The tip of his cock grazed your opening and you held your breath in twisted anticipation. He'd more to take than you ever had and you panicked, preparing for the pain. Joel continued swiping his cock through your sleek pussy, covering himself in your juices and letting your anticipation grow. When his tip kissed your clit you moaned, shifting closer to him and he chuckled. "Ready, baby."

It wasn't a question.

In one swift motion his cock split your pussy open and he sheathed himself in your tight heat, splitting you open. The burning stretch felt like he was ripping you in half, exactly what you were preparing for. The thing you didn't prepare for was the feeling it left in the pit of your stomach as his tip kissed the deepest part of you. Your cry was pathetic, just what he wanted to hear as his cock hid inside you.

It was too much. "Too much. Too much. Too much."

You didn't notice how you started chanting the words out, suffocating either on your tears, or was his cock choking you from the inside?

His hands on your hips as he pushed you up and down his cock were nothing but a welcoming distraction from the ever-growing sensation. "No, baby, not too much, just the right amount for that greedy cunt."

He didn't laugh but you could hear the smile tainting his lips. Did you actually like it? Did you like the pain? Was your pussy gushing all around him just a defensive mechanism? You couldn't think about it as a new wave of arousal enslaved every nerve ending in your body and your pussy clenched around Joel's cock, the fact that he didn't dare to miss.

"Tell me how good it feels, baby. It feels good, doesn't it?" And it did. Goddamn you hated yourself for it, but being stretched on his cock on a leather covered couch in a sweat smelling room with vulgar red lights dancing on your skin was as close to being satisfied as you ever felt in your life.

"Feels good, da... Mr. Miller."

You prayed he didn't hear the little slip you allowed yourself. You didn't know where it came from, you never said anything like that to Jason, not him, not any of your other partners. Luck wasn't on your side when you heard the man behind you bark a laugh.

"Daddy, hm?" He brought his hand to your neck, squeezing it and bringing your back flush against chest as he bit your ear before whispering, "I think I like the sound of it, baby. Don't be shy. Knew you needed a daddy since the moment I saw ya."

You whined, cheeks burning with shame from what the words flowing out of his mouth did to you. Your pussy clenched around him and his hand landed on your asscheek, "goddamn, you perfect little slut, you actually like it."

His surprise wasn't there for long as he continued stretching you out on his cock.

Joel leaned away, dropping your upper-body to its initial place over the backseat of the couch. The zipper of his opened jeans scraped the burning flesh of your ass and the button must've left an imprint, he didn't care one bit, fascinated by the look of your cunt around his cock. You felt him move a little, one of his hands disappearing from its place on your hips.

"Should we send a little video message to Jason, hm? See if he recognizes your ass bouncing so sweetly on my cock? Or should I send him a picture of you pretty gaping hole and see if he recognizes that?"

He pulled out for the briefest of moments, lowering his head to see your empty pussy flutter, begging to be filled without words. Joel licked his lips, a new desire igniting in him, but he quickly shut it down, shoving his cock back into your wet warmth and sighing.

"I recon he won't. Good boy he is, but he never had that in him. He could never use you to the fullest of your potential." You heard the telltale blip of the iPhone starting to record a video and put your head lower hiding your face in your hands and hair. Joel didn't notice, he was too enraptured by the vision of your abused pussy swallowing the thickness of his cock with little to no resistance at all. "Good thing I'm here now, baby. Now daddy's gonna take good care of you." He smacked your ass lightly. "So, should we send him a little wanking present?" You understood that now most likely he had a video and it sent anxiety shivers down your spine, you felt you were on the edge of tears again and did the only thing you could do - started begging.

"No, Mr Miller, please, don't." You turned your head just in time to see him raise his hand highly and slap your ass once more, this time it was painful enough that you knew you'd have a bruise.

"What did I tell you to call me?"

You gulped down the fantom rock that was blocking your breath way. "No, daddy, please." You didn't hear anything besides his hips continuing to snap and create a wet sound between your sweat slicked bodies.

And there it was, a little 'whoosh' of a message being sent and then the voice of the man who was finding new ways to ruin you.

"Oops, my finger was so wet it slipped, so I guess that's your fault, isn't it?" He was met with silence filled only with the sultry music of the club.

Joel stopped fucking you and squeezed your asscheeks painfully, warning like poisonous honey filling his voice. "I asked you a question, girl!"

"Yes, daddy, yes, it's my fault, I'm sorry." Your eyes welled with tears but you couldn't say they were all from pain or humiliation. The way he manhandled you, the way he forced you to take what you didn't know you were craving made you feel lightheaded. You didn't think about what this would bring, submerging into the feelings of his body overtaking yours in the most primal way.

"You're not yet, but you're getting there, sweetheart."

He resumed the punishing pace, stuffing his cock so deep inside you it made you think you'll forever have the imprint of his veiny shaft and prominent tip on your insides. He was growling, pressing his sweat soaked shirt to your back as his hand found your throbbing clit. You whimpered, shame enhancing your pleasure as you bucked your hips to meet the rapid movements of his fingertips. Your need added fire to his desire as he let out animalistic sounds right in your ear.

"That's right baby girl, don't need to fight it. Take it, I know you like this fat cock stuffing you."

Tears streamed down your face, your body a rigid sex doll in his hands, made for his pleasure. Your orgasm punched you in your stomach and your lips parted in a silent scream. It was good, it was so fucking terrible, but goddamn would you be a liar if that wasn't the best orgasm of your life. Fear, shame, need and pleasure made an intoxicating cocktail that was now gushing down your legs and all around Joel's cock.

"F-fuck, fuck that cunt is choking me. Fucking hell," his growl was almost scary as his hips shuddered. You whined, your swollen walls cried in overstimulation as he continued pounding you, chasing his own pleasure with no care to your comfort.

There was something sickeningly grounding in it. You felt free of everything, thoughts, feelings even desire to move. You just let him use you however he pleased, your wasted body just a container for his pleasure. "Gonna fill you up real good, baby. Gonna stuff you so full, you'll feel it for days to come." It was the last thing he whispered before he let you take every last drop of his cum, covering your insides in him. With a heavy exhale he fell on top of you, pressing you in the sticky leather of the couch. You both just laid like that, your breathing mingling together as his cock softened inside you, still keeping his seed inside.

You whimpered as he stood up, finally taking his cock out and slapping your bruised ass with a surprising gentleness.

"Come on, baby, turn around."

It took you all the strength that was left in you to turn around, limbs heavy, head barely supported by your neck. Joel looked as fucked out as you felt, face and temples drenching with sweat, shirt crinkled and his cock out, glistening with all kinds of fluids.

"Now, be a grateful girl and clean my cock, will ya? I can't walk around with your cum all over it, can l? It'd be downright filthy."

You shuffled around, finding a good position kneeling on the couch so his dick was on the level with your mouth. Joel brought his hand to your neck and squeeze, pushing you lower. He didn't need to press hard, you went willingly, swiping your tongue at the soft flesh that now finally fit into your mouth without chocking you.

"That's it, darlin'" he sighed, looking at you with a mix of perverted pride and adoration. "Next time we'll see if that pretty ass of yours stretches for me as good as your lips do."

Next time...

#joel miller x reader #serenaxpedro writes #serenaxpedro gif #tlou fanfiction #bfd joel #iamasaddie fic

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whorediaries-09 · 2 months

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hi lovie, me again, an anon (not so anon) James' lover. I loved your writing for the celebration, thank u, love.

so that's why I'm here again, asking, begging, imploring for a blurb, Fireman! or Policeman! James x baker! reader, something like reader's muffins burned a little sooo the smoke turned on the smoke detector.

postscript, James was already head over heels for reader and her muffins :)

oh my thank you so much love! i love it when people request for something and when i write it out they actually tell me whether they liked it or not. also please keep sending in your requests, i love your ideas!!

you're in love;

pairing- policeman!james potter x baker!reader warning(s)- fluff, james being an adorable idiot. (let me know if i should add more.) a/n- i say this again, please keep sending in your ideas, who ever you are lovely anon, i love your ideas!! i literally had so much fun writing this.

' you two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round and he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown. '

james mouth is full of the rich chocolate muffin he stuffs into his mouth. it's buttery, soft and crunchy? it's a chocolate almond muffin he realizes as he takes another big bite. oh no, he doesn't like those. but somehow, he chews on. in his imagination, you're feeding him the muffin with your hands, a sweet shy smile on your face. he imagines then licking off the melted chocolate off your fingers, from the overdose of chocolate chips in your delicious muffins.

you're a great baker, he decides when he swallows the muffin. to be able to make the james fleamont potter eat almond muffins was tough work, for he doesn't like too much texture variation in his food. but somehow you manage to balance it out just right.

you're a great thief too, he decides. an oblivious one, though. perhaps the 'friendly' winks or the constant writing of his number on tissue papers or the nicknames did nothing more make you blush and laugh.

he loved your saccharine laughter. it reminded him of the muffins you baked. he loved the subtle blush on your cheeks. it reminded him of the jam cookies from your bakery which had been a hit during the valentine's week. he loved the crinkle of your skin beside your mouth and eyes when you smiled or laughed. it reminded him of the soft buttery croissants that you'd so beautifully crafted to bake them with the perfect texture and taste.

he watches the a butterfly flap it's wings, flutter in the sky. the sunshine reflects on the spots of it's beautiful wings just right. it feels him with a warm comfortingly fuzzy feeling soothing him. he loves it. it reminds him of the time he'd seen you smile for the first time, and felt his heart soar.

james is distracted from his thoughts when his walkie talkie beeps, grabbing his attention. he slides it out from his back pocket, brushing his muffin crumb covered fingers onto his pants. he holds it up to his ears, listening to the speaker.

'attention, officer james. smoke alarm detected in batter and crumbs. please take your team as quickly as possible.'

he doesn't listen further, running towards the bakery. it's probably unsafe, his brain says, but his heart beats otherwise, at the aspect of you stuck like a damsel in distress within a cloud of smoke and the ferocious flames of fires.

he opens the door of the bakery, entering in a rush, his shoes chafing over the polishes tiles as he rushes, runs and jumps into the kitchen. anything but a normal walk.

when he reaches the kitchen, he finds you bent over towards the microwave, smoke sizzling out the oven. his brain doesn't register the fact that there's no fire in sight, when he pulls you by your waist, steering you away from the smoking oven. you carry a burnt muffin tray in your hands, and hit the intruder's head with it.

it's hot and thus, it burns his forehead. he screams, letting go of your fighting body. he massages the burnt spot, and when the realization dawns upon you, you're quick to to run to the freezer and bring him ice.

you wrap it up in your apron, avoiding direct contact from the ice to his burn, and making him sit down on one of the chairs, you slowly place the ice. his fingers clench into his thigh, and he hisses at the contrast of feelings on his nerves.

'fuck, mr. potter, i'm so sorry,' you mutter sheepishly, slowly rubbing the ice on the burn, trying to soothe the burn. he doesn't say anything. and even though feel scared, you look at his face, searching for any signs of anger. oh why did you hit him! you just lost the hot regular who you had come to good terms with and who you had a crush on-

not a sign of anger to be found on his expression. all you saw was a dopey grin and red tinted cheeks underneath the dusk of his skin. oh.

'i-i'm sorry?' you said again, though it came out more of a question. he grins even wider, looking into your eyes. for a minute you think he's drunk, but he's a policeman on duty so...

'it's okay,' he whispers. 'heart-thief' remains silent as you stand in front of him, letting the ice soothe his burn.

for what the man seems so jolly for remains a mystery until a a few years later you're cuddled up to him watching a silly sitcom and laughing when he confesses out of the blue it was because you were so closer to him... and also because your breasts were directly in front of his hungry eyes.

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taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter smut #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #marauders #harry potter fanfiction #the marauders #james potter #james #james potter x y/n #marauders era #james potter x you #dead gay wizards #the marauders era

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jeankluv · 29 days

Text

But daddy I love him - Satoru Gojo [ch.01]

Short series

Summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

Tags of the series: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n.

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

Note: this is going to be a short series, of around two or three chapters, it’s a way to say thank you for the 300 followers. The tags are in general for the series, in this chapter there are only suggestive language and some misogyny comments and actions, according to the time that is set. Oc and Satoru are +20

words: 4k

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You were on the beach, near the house, you had gone for a walk and read a book by the seashore. The morning was warm and your blue dress moved due to the sea breeze that hit you. Placing a lock of your hair behind your ear, you looked at the immense sea before you.

You had rarely left your place of residence and even less had you crossed the sea. But this was a fervent dream that you had longed for since you had started reading stories from different places in the world.

But your parents were strict and you had a weak body to be able to make that journey. So the only thing left was to long for something that would not happen and immerse yourself in your beloved books.

You turned the page of the book you had brought with you and continued reading. It was a romantic book, one of those that made butterflies flutter in your stomach with just words written on a piece of paper. You had always wondered if it really happened, if when you were in love with someone those butterflies appeared and fluttered.

You had never fallen in love, but you had always longed for it. You knew that when the time came, you would be married to someone, but the mere idea of marrying someone, with whom you could never feel those butterflies or any kind of affection, terrified you.

You were terrified of the idea of ending up like your parents and raising your children in a loveless home, like you had.

“It’s the book good, angel?” A deep voice spoke in front of you.

Resting the book against your chest, you looked up, meeting a face you didn't know. His gaze was sharp and even a little arrogant. You stayed watching him, while his gaze continued to rest on you and you felt like he was somehow undressing you with his eyes. You held the book tighter to your chest and drew your legs up a little.

“Oh don’t be afraid princess. I don’t bite, unless you want me to.” You felt your face heat up at his words.

“Who are you?” You murmured.

“Satoru.” He said, giving a bite to the apple on his hand. “What are you reading angel?” He pointed to the book.

You hesitated, unsure if you should keep talking with that unkown man. “I think I should leave.” You said getting up carefully.

The man whose name was Satoru cleared his throat. "Come on angel, don't tell me that my presence scared you."

“I would rather be alone sir.” You whispered. “Now I will take my leave.” You said turning around and moving fast across the beach.

You could still feel his gaze on you, never leaving you, not until you disappeared from his sight. Walking across the dirt road that connected your house to the beach, you looked back to make sure the man wasn't following you. Your breathing was labored and your heart was beating rapidly when you reached the door. Taking another breath through your nostrils, you straightened your back and put on the best of your smiles as you entered the house.

"My lady." One of the household maids approached you. “Her mother wants to see her.”

"Something happened?" You bowed your head.

“No, miss, I just want to talk to you about the dinner that will be held tonight.”

“Oh, yeah okay.” You nodded.

Still clutching the book to your chest, you walked through the house. You were not the wealthiest in the county, but your father had a good fortune and from time to time he held parties, in a desperate attempt to get one of the rich men to notice his daughter and thus marry her.

That night you would once again have to endure the lustful gazes of men three times your age, while you made excuses not to commit to them. But time was fleeting and his excuses were slowly running out.

You knocked on the door and heard your mother telling you to enter.

“Mother.” You bowed your head. “I heard you called me.”

“Yes.” She said. “Tonight as you know there will be a party in our house.” You nodded. “I want you to stay away from one of our guests.”

“Stay away? Wouldn't that be rude?”

“No. That man is no good news.” She stood up and walked to the window. “It doesn’t matter how wealthy he is, he is no good for our family.” Then she turned around and walked towards you. “So please my beautiful daughter, don’t you dare approach that man.” A shiver ran through your body when you saw your mother's threatening gaze and you nodded with fear.

“May I ask, what’s his name mother?” You said, still frightened.

“It's Duke Satoru Gojo. I heard he is good looking but besides that, there is nothing good about him.”

Satoru

That was the name of that man, wasn’t it?

“Is something wrong?” Your mother asked.

“No, nothing is wrong mother.” You responded feeling the nervousness in your words. “I retire to my room to start getting ready for the party.” Your mother nodded and you left the room.

You walked back to your room, thinking about the man once again. Just thinking about him sent a shiver down your spine. Mother had asked you not to approach him, but you had the feeling that he would be the one to approach you. Remembering your meeting on the beach, you wouldn't have thought he was a lord or anything like that. To tell the truth, you thought that he was one of the villagers in town who wanted to bother you, for the way he was dressed up.

He was wearing a white shirt, with the top buttons unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. With just one glance you could see that he was well toned. A subtle blush appeared on your face as you realized what you were thinking about. You shook your head to get rid of those improper thoughts.

“My lady?” A knock on your door brought you back.

“Rose!” You smiled at your maid.

“I’m here to start your preparations for tonight’s party.” She smiled with a small nod.

“That’s perfect. Let’s begin.”

And before you realized it, you were already putting on the final touches of your makeup and the sun had already set on the horizon of the sea. Rose said goodbye to you when you headed towards the door and with a firm step you headed to the entrance where the guests were waiting and where that man would surely also be.

Going down the stairs, you stood next to your parents, to welcome the guests arriving at the party. The faces of people already familiar and new, passed by one by one. Feeling a relief in your chest when you saw that that man did not appear, you entered the party. There were hardly any people your age or people with whom you could start a conversation that you liked.

“My lady?” You turned to see the face of the man who had called you.

He was a marquis from near the capital, he was approximately 40 years old, you heard that his wife died and now he was looking for a young girl to remarry and thus give him a male heir.

Taking a step back you greeted him. "Sir." You put on the best of your smiles.

“You look absolutely beautiful, my lady.” He flattered you, bringing the glass of wine to his mouth, his face was dyed a soft red so, it was more than evident, that this was not his first glass of wine. “It's a shame no one has courted you yet.” He said taking a step forward, you took one step back.

“The right man hasn’t appeared yet, sir.” You wanted to escape that conversation as soon as possible.

“My lady, how about I invite you to my country side house and let me court you properly?” He raised his hand so you could place yours on top of it.

Your mouth went dry and your hands started to shake. “I…” You wanted to say no, but that would be nonsense and disrespectful.

“I think the lady is not very interested in an insect like you.” A deep voice spoke behind you.

A chill ran down your spine when you heard that voice. It was him.

You raised your face to see him standing behind you, with a frivolous smile looking at the marquis you were conversing with.

”Duke Satoru Gojo, excuse me. How are you? I didn’t expect to see him at this party.” The marquis who seconds ago possessed tremendous confidence was now shaking like a wet puppy.

“Pretty annoyed, because I have to see insects like you believing themselves to be something they're not.” He scratched his head and took a step forward, standing at your height. “Now disappear from my sight.” You trembled as you heard his tone and saw his murderous look.

Who was that man? Your gaze was fixed on him and you did not see the marquis flee the place in terror. When you realized you were both alone and he looked at you with those same hungry eyes with which he had looked at you that morning on the beach.

“Angel, we met each other once again.” He bowed a little. “You look even more beautiful than this morning.” He tangled one of your locks in his finger.

“Duke.” Taking a step back from him, you bowed to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You said without looking at his eyes.

Mother told you to stay away from him, so you needed to escape from there as soon as possible.

“Oh I’m a bit disappointed that you won’t look at me.” You heard him chuckling. “You are scared of me little one?”

“Sorry duke, but I must take my leave.” Trying to move away from him, he held your wrist pressing you against his torso.

“Careful angel.” He whispered into your ear, causing your legs to tremble at his warm breath. “You almost dumped into the waiter.”

And then you noticed, the waiter that was there holding the tray with more drinks. "I’m so sorry." You told the waiter.

The waiter shook his head and smiled at you, leaving your sight. "You have to be more careful angel, you could have hurt yourself." He whispered again against your ear.

“Thank you…” You whispered, releasing you from his grip and separating you from his muscular body.

Being close to him, his warmth and touch had caused a strange feeling in you.

“Angel, are you avoiding me?” His face came dangerously close to yours and your cheeks turned a subtle crimson red.

“No duke, that would be rude.” You looked down to your feet.

“So angel, how about you join me for a walk on this warm summer night.” He extended his hand towards you.

Your heart was beating strongly in your chest, doubting what you should do. Your mind wandered to the conversation with your mother, where she implored you to stay away from that man. But your heart wanted to grab that hand of his and take you for a walk that night. With your hand trembling you grabbed the duke's hand and together you left the house.

The cold of the night hit your body, causing you to shrink subtly, trying not to let your body heat escape. Instinctively you squeezed your hand, causing you to squeeze the duke's hand subtly. Realizing this, you moved your hand away and placed it against your chest, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

The duke looked you up and down and took off his jacket, slinging it over your shoulders. You don't know if it was because of the jacket or because of the gesture, but you felt an intense heat settle on your face.

“Thank you duke.” You murmured holding into his jacket.

The duke just nodded and continued walking. Your gaze focused on his back and your mother's words echoed in your head again. You still had time to return to the party and ignore that you had been with that man there, but as before your heart decided for you and you walked following his step.

“So angel.” He spoke, taking what it looked like a cigarette out of his pocket. “Was the book you were reading good?”

“Yeah… it was.” His voice was making you feel things.

“What was it about?” He put the cigarette on his mouth and smiled at you while lighting up.

“About…” Your words didn’t want to come out of your mouth. “About a girl and boy that fell in love and escaped.”

“Oh… interesting.” He smiled. “You still don’t seem to trust me very much angel. Did someone talk bad about me?”

“No duke, not at all.” You hated to lie but you couldn’t expose your mother or else things could get complicated for your family.

“I don’t like when beautiful girls lie.” You felt his hand under your chin. “Tell me angel. What did they say about me?”

You trembled under his touch. “That… that you are no good news.”

With a crooked smile he spat the cigarette smoke away from you. “And that’s what you think, princess?” He asked you, narrowing his gaze.

“I haven’t had the opportunity to meet the duke, so I can not give an opinion.”

With a smile and with the cigarette between his teeth, he removed his hand from under your chin and walked to a stone seat overlooking the sea and sat there. You looked at his figure, muscular and large, feeling that heat in you again.

“Angel, don’t be shy and sit here with me.” He extended his hand and gestured for you to come closer. “I would like to know more about the beautiful lady of this house.”

You sat down next to him, placing your hands thighly on your knees, still nervous due to his presence.

“Ask me whatever you want, angel. I already told you.” He got near you. “I won’t bite you, unless you ask me to.”

Taking a deep breath, you spoke. “Why do you have a bad reputation?”

“Well…” He chuckled. “People think I killed my brother, to take the title and the power.”

“But those surely are just rumors right?” Your heart was beating faster and faster with each passing second.

“Maybe I did kill him, angel.” You began to feel dizzy, was he for real? “Don’t look at me like that angel, I didn’t kill him. My brother was clumsy and an idiot, he died due to his clumsiness but I loved him, at the end of the day he was my brother.” He threw the cigarette away. “But everyone started to believe that lie and to say I manipulated him because the title, instead of going to his son, it was leave it to me.” He shrugged. “Do you still think I’m bad angel?”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry you have to face those rumors.”

“How sweet of you angel.” He smiled. “That man… he wanted to marry you, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“Someone your age would be expected to be already married.” He pointed out.

“Yeah but I have a weak body, so my parents are trying to push it away.” You explained.

“Are they?” You looked at him confused. “Or are you?”

“What do you mean? I would never…”

“Princess it seems to me that you don’t want to marry any of those old insects and that you use the bland excuse of having a poor body to get away with it.” He cockily smiled. “I’m wrong?”

“That’s a gross lie, I would never lie about my body being weak.” You blurted out, embarrassed by his words.

He chuckled softly. “Okay angel, I will try to believe in your words.” He turned to face you. “But honestly, you would need a better match than those suitors your parents want to assign you. A princess like you doesn't deserve to be with those insects.”

You looked down. “I don’t have a say on what my father chooses for me. Once the moment comes, I will marry the person he chooses for me.”

“And that’s what you want, angel?” You felt his breath on your ear. “Or you want one of those love stories?”

You took a deep breath. “Those stories never come true, I’m destined to marry someone I won’t love, but you know.” You smiled looking at him. “Maybe with time love can happen.”

“Or maybe it never happens and you are unhappy for the rest of your life.” He said with those eyes all over you.

“Why are you telling me these things duke? Isn't it a bit rude to be talking like that to a lady?” You said.

“Is it?” He tilted. “I don’t know angel.” He stood up and you followed him with your gaze. “So you say you will marry anyone your father chooses. Interesting.” He smirked and watching that smirk, it made your body tremble.

You watched as he took a pocket watch out of his pocket and how he looked at it. “Duke…” You called him. “Why did you come to the party?” It was a question you have been wanting to ask since your mother informed you he was coming. “I don’t want to sound rude or anything, but the travel from your residence to here is quite long.”

He put the watch back in his pocket and smiled at you. “Just wanted to see with my own eyes how beautiful the lady of the house was or if the rumors were all fake.” He held your hand and brought it to his lips. “And the rumors were not wrong.” He said planting a kiss on your knuckles.

Your legs shook as the duke sank his teeth into the fabric of your gloves and gently began to remove it. But the real weakness came when he ran his tongue between your fingers while his piercing eyes were fixed on you.

An immense heat was established in the lower area of your abdomen and as much as you wanted to remove your hand from its touch, the pleasant sensation it was causing in you, prevented it.

“I will keep this glove with me, angel.” He kissed the glove and put it in his pocket. “We will see each other again soon, angel.”

And you watched him walk away, disappearing in the darkness of the night. You stayed on the bench for a few minutes, thinking about what just happened and feeling a new sensation on your body that you could not quite understand.

Standing back up you walked back to the house, getting welcomed by the noise of the people speaking, singing and dancing.

“Where were you?” Your mother appeared. “And whose jacket is that?” She raised your voice.

“I was outside and a…”

“Outside on your own?” She held your arm.

“Mother, you’re hurting me…” You whispered.

“Don’t tell me you were being a slut in our garden?” She asked you.

“What? Mother no, I was just taking fresh air.” You felt how your eyes got wet. “Please mother.”

“Agh.” She let your arm go. “Come with me, your father is going to introduce you to someone.” She turned around and walked.

You followed her in silence and with your head low, still feeling scared for your mother’s tone and angry look on her face. When you looked back up, you saw your father talking with a man, an unknown man for you. He looked the same age as your parents and was laughing with your father while smoking and drinking.

“Oh!” Your father said. “Look Marquis Harrison, this is my one and only daughter.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir.” You bowed your head.

“You have a really beautiful daughter.” The man spoke looking at your father.

“Yeah.” Your father laughed. “And you know Marquis Harrison, she is still unmarried and in the perfect age to to conceive.”

You felt your pulse accelerate and your breathing shorten, while you listened to your father speak. You knew where that conversation was going and you didn't want it to get to that point, you didn't want to marry that man.

You felt like the corset was tightening you more and more and how it was difficult for you to breathe with each passing moment.

Duke Satoru had been right, you had been lying about having a weak body and you had been paying gold coins to your personal doctor to corroborate it. But that excuse would soon be exhausted.

“Oh it’s that right my lady?” The man spoke to you.

You noticed the vein in your neck throbbing strongly, you felt like you would faint at any moment.

“Answer to Marquis Smith.” Your mother, angrily whispered to you.

“I…”

“Angel.” That deep voice again. “I totally forgot about my jacket.” He approached you causing all eyes to fall on him and then on you when he was in front of you.

Your cheeks turned red as you saw his face again, as if something about him had an instant effect on you.

"What does this mean?" Your mother raises her voice.

“Oh ma'am, I'm afraid I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself to the hosts of the party.” He turned to face your parents. “I am Duke Satoru Gojo, thank you for inviting me to this party.” He smiled, bowing slightly and placing her hand on her chest.

“Are you the one who gave the jacket to my daughter?” Your mother asked.

“That's right ma'am, I found her daughter outside getting some air and I lent her my jacket.” He lied.

Your mother took two steps towards you and she grabbed you tightly by the arm, she didn't care that all eyes were on you. “Didn't I tell you to stay away from him, don’t tell me you are a slut who spreads her legs out there?”

“Mother please.” You felt your eyes sting.

Your father shook his head. “Our daughter is a bit poorly raised, Duke, we are sorry if something uncomfortable could have happened.” You felt like crying at that very moment, you wanted someone to get you out of there. You needed someone to do it.

The duke looked at you and then at your father. "I think the only rude people here are the hosts of this party, who dedicate themselves to humiliating their only daughter in front of all the guests, while trying to marry her to the highest bidder." The Duke's words came out like darts from his mouth and his gaze was so extremely sharp, you would swear he could cut the air.

“How dare you…” your father blurted out with his face slightly red.

“I want to marry your daughter.” The duke cut your father.

A loud gasp was heard in the room and you looked at him stunned.

“Stay away from her.” Your mother blurted, still holding your arm thighly.

He completely ignored your mother. “I will be staying in the house, so your daughter and I can meet better.” He sharply looked at your dad. “I hope this is not an impediment or I will have to contact his majesty the King.” He threatened.

"Alright." Your father stammered, looking at the ground. The duke turned and removed your mother's grip on your arm.

He lifted your chin with his hand and smiled. “Now we can see each other more, angel.”

You swallowed dryly, looking into his eyes and feeling that flame light up inside you once again.

#gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #fanfic jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you

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drdemonprince · 3 months

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What if your unmasked self is unacceptable even to other autistics? I feel like if I don't carefully curate myself I'm too weird and annoying to sustain friendships even with other weirdos. This thing where unmasking makes people like you more because it's more ~authentic~ just hasn't been true for me and it makes me really sad.

Well, what does "weird" and "annoying" mean in this case? In unmaskers I frequently see a lot of understandable social trauma playing out in, let's just say, not the most socially effective of ways at times. No longer mindreading and people pleasing and fawning is all to the good; becoming completely unfiltered while still harboring a ton of deep-seated fear of abandonment and then spilling it out all over people will understandably drive them away. No longer faking emotions and tone of voice preserves energy and helps us feel more genuine, but never putting any energy into trying to understand a friend's interests or emotions will kill a friendship.

There is a messy counterbalancing that has to occur for many unmaskers; at first we focus on never doing anything false and allowing our unbridled selves to roam free -- and then we often recognize that we will need certain self-advocacy, listening, communication, and even diplomacy skills to actually relate to other people, even while remaining true to who we are.

It's normal for the unmasking process to initially seem like it's making you harder to love, more annoying, more bizzaree -- that's a necessary corrective to having previously aimed to make yourself unremarkable or widely liked.

But if you find yourself repeatedly socially alienating even out and proud neurodivergent people, it may be worth asking whether you are taking actions that are pushing them away. Things like interrupting people when they are trying to open up to you, invalidating their feelings, seeking reassurances that no other person can provide, not interacting, self-victimizing, just generally hurtful interpersonal stuff that us traumatized folks sometimes do even in community with one another. If this is the case, you will have to work on accepting the feedback when people are kind enough to tell you that you're bothering them or disrespecting them -- it is not the end of the world, it is a habit you can notice and correct.

Or you might just still be withdrawing and inhibiting very hard, and doing self-protective things that convey to others that they should give you a wide berth. Lots of unmaskers give off really strong "dont talk to me dont come up to me i feel socially unsafe right now" vibes that are completely honest and authentic to where they are at the moment, even if they wish they could seem more welcoming. Please give yourself some grace to feel all that if that's what it is.

No one is too weird or too annoying to make friends. But you might need to find the people who are weird enough and mad enough and disabled enough for you. Alternatively, you might have some interpersonal baggage that affects how you treat others you still need to work on. Or your internalized disability stigma might just be telling you that youre being too much when youre barely taking up social space at all.

You know your pattern of experiences and the feedback others have given you, so hopefully you can sort out what is currently missing in your social life based on that and some reflection and more testing. Good luck and let me know what you figure out.

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hotheadedhero · 1 month

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Now hear me out-

Bayverse turtles giving reader a spiderman kiss. Like maybe the turtles haven't seen their beloved significant other for a while and decide to sneak away from patrol for a split second to give them an upside down smooch.

💜

AN: Hearing you loud and clear my lovely, this is frickin adorable, thank you! Big spiderman fan over here <3 Hope you weren't waiting too long, even being on holiday wasn't going to stop me finishing this 👀

Kiss me

Bay Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

You are in the middle of reading on your couch when there’s knocking at your window. A set of rhythmic taps that play out in a particular pattern. A secret code indicative of who is waiting outside your living room. With a joyous grin, you spring up onto your feet and pull the curtains open. You expected to see your boyfriend outside but you did not expect him to be hanging upside down from your upstairs neighbour's part of the fire escape. Given the fact that yours is currently classed as unsafe to use, this makes a lot more sense.

The set of circumstances that led to such a problem is not your fault. Whoever had lived here prior, assumed it would be a great idea to place a blow-up paddling pool on it for those dreadfully hot summers. The funny thing about chlorine water, however, is that chlorine water accelerates the corrosion of metals. Much to your derisive luck, it didn’t start taking effect until a few months after you had moved in. Without any substantial evidence, the blame is being passed over to you and that is not a bill you have the funds to meet. Hence, you are awaiting a hearing and, hopefully, following approval to get it fixed without burning a said hole in your pocket. Landlords, am I right?

You open the window for Leonardo. “I see you came to hang out,” you quip before smiling awkwardly. “Sorry about the broken fire escape.”

He shakes his head, knowing that you should be the last person apologising for it, but decides to make light of the situation with his own humour. "You may want to look into that."

"If you got a spare grand or two lying around," you joke in return, "I'd be happy to."

Leo breathes a quiet laugh and puckers his lips. Figures that he would only have time for a quick greeting, so you may as well make it worthwhile when you have the chance. Happily, you comply and lean forward for a kiss. You smile into it and, in doing so, you feel him do the same. It can be hard to find the time for small moments such as is but they are always cherished.

"Now go keep us safe,” you mumble against his lips. “I’ll come by the lair when you’re done.”

One last kiss is exchanged, trying to savour it as best you can, before he inevitably has to disappear into the night again.

Raphael

Sometimes dating can be a whirlwind of mystery and uncertainties: days where one wonders if such a thing is tenable. Raphael knew your relationship would come with certain hurdles - albeit this isn't the worst it could be - but he didn't think you'd go this long without seeing each other. With you working during the day and him the night, planning time together is a challenge. For the quieter nights, you’re usually too tired from your job. There’s the occasional drop-in on your days off but it’s a similar problem what with him needing sleep, too. Not now, though. The frustration is settled thickly into his skin. Perhaps that’s why he’s working so hard on his crunches. Replace the mental burn with a physical one.

Deciding to turn up the burn, he lifts himself onto his pull-up bar, hooks his knees over it, and resumes working on his core. Raph gets close to a hundred reps before he hears the rapid pitter of feet coming straight for the lair. He prepares to descend to the ground and greet you but you rush into his gym and grab his face before he gets the chance.

"Just wanted to drop by quick," you sputter feverishly before smacking your mouth into his. "Can't stay long."

Then you kiss him again; a long, deep, and tender press of your lips upon his. He falls into it enough that the raw emotion is clear but not so much that he slips from the pull-up bar. The fact that you’ve hurried in before your shift just to give him some quick love means the world to this big lug. He should think about missing you more often if it means the universe will summon you to him. One hand outstretches to pull your head closer but you move away just as he's about to. Damn.

Sprinting off, you shout out a last, "Love you," before disappearing off into one of the many sewer tunnels.

He just hangs there gaunt, blinking for the after-image of you that is now completely gone. Had he not been taken so sharply off guard, he probably would have made a grab for you, insisting that you call in sick and stay. In a perfect world, maybe. A short huff of amusement blows out of his nostrils and he returns to his workout, now fueled with a new, more desirable burn.

With a smirk and underlays of that soft smile you coax out of him, he whispers under his breath, “Love you, too.”

Donatello

As far as work days go, this one has been a doozy and getting back home couldn’t possibly be a more sweet reward. There aren’t many floors to climb but you’re so tired that you opt to use the lift instead of the stairs; a little self-treat and a decision that you quickly regret when it comes to a halt. Your poor, weary body jostles with the force of it stopping abruptly and you whine. Please, don’t do this. After the day you’ve had, this is the last thing you need.

Just when you think it can’t possibly get any worse, there’s a thud from right above your head. Bandits? Burglary? A raid? All stupid ideas in the grand scheme of things but panic is leading you to such irrational thoughts. With your rucksack as your only defence, you hold it up ready to bring a smackdown if needs be. Clanging. Creaking. Weight shifting. Then, the ceiling’s latch falls and down comes a head.

“Mind if I drop by?” your turtle boyfriend asks as he hangs all topsy-turvy in front of you.

“Oh, thank Mercury, it’s you,” you heave, letting your bag drop to place a hand on your chest. The prior anxiety wears off just enough for a new one to beckon and you straighten up. “Wait, the security cams-”

“Already taken care of,” he reassures with a weirdly cheeky grin. “How’s this for some spontaneous romance?”

Slowly, your face pinches and points up at Donnie, not overly impressed with what’s insinuated here. So, this was all curated by him, was it? Possibly a cute plan from his perspective but you’re much too drained to see it that way.

You rub your eyes with your thumb and finger and sigh. “I wouldn’t consider giving me a near damn heart attack romantic, Don.”

“Would it be considered somewhat romantic if I were to say that I also reset and upgraded your lift system? It shouldn’t malfunction for another 5 years now.”

Knowing he’d find a way to have a sweet reason for this, you can hardly hold back your smile. It’s a bit out there but you also have to remind yourself of who you’re dating. You sigh again, this time in fake disdain, and lean off the wall to kiss him. Judging by the little hum in his throat, he must be feeling pretty proud of himself. When you pull away, you adjust his slightly crooked glasses.

“The best thing you could do right now is let me get to my apartment,” you note with a pat on his cheek. “Please?”

His eyes light up and he disappears back up from whence he came to get things running. Getting back home may have been trickier than you anticipated but it isn’t without its perks for being able to see Donnie. A conversation may need to be had about his choices of flirtatious spontaneity, however.

Michelangelo

In the late hours of the evening, you had decided to start settling down for the night. The typical, run-of-the-mill routine: brush your teeth, wash your face, and get into some cosy pyjamas. A nice movie sounds like a good idea before you hit the hay. You leave the bathroom to get a start on choosing one when you remark something in the air. It isn’t clear but there is an unspecified something different with your apartment since you’ve been in the bathroom. A smell? Or perhaps a few objects that now appear to be out of place. There wasn’t any noise to indicate a new presence. Ah. You know exactly what’s going on. Keeping back a laugh, you place your hand on your hips.

“I know you’re up there, Mikey,” you say, not even bothering to look up at your intruder.

“Aw, babe,” he whines from the ceiling as he lets the upper half of his body fall and hang limply in front of you. “Ruining the moment here.”

These types of hijinks may have pulled a fast one over you back in the day but you’ve grown more than accustomed to them by now, much to your boyfriend’s dismay. He isn’t inherently set on scaring your socks off - as much as that is a bonus - but he likes surprising you, seeing the sparkle in your eyes when you realise it’s him. He looks like a bit of a wounded puppy for the fact, so it only seems fair that you perk him back up again. Playfully rolling your eyes, you take a few steps forward and kiss him sweetly. It’s safe to say that this is much better than getting you all frightened. Regardless of that, you have to quietly question how he’s managed to find the time to come and attempt a prank at your expense in the first place.

“Mikey,” you hear one of his brothers yell from outside, “Don’s picked up on a burglary from the police scanners. We gotta go. Now!”

That answers that, then.

“Duty calls, angel,” he breathes out, clearly bummed out but feigning it against his lax grin. “You know how it is.”

Sensing his disappointment, you peck his lips again and grin encouragingly. “Go get ‘em, hero.”

He shoots you a wink and lets himself drop to the floor before jumping out of your window. You watch him bound off over rooftops, hollering and likely getting an ear chewed off by his brothers. Mikey hates to leave his sweetness behind but you know just what to say to get him fired up. Those thugs shall endure a swift beat down, so he can return for his “hero’s reward” quickly.

If you liked this, there's a real neat one by @theyhavetakenovermylife with the 2012 boyos with the same concept! (and also you just have to check out all of their works, they're amazing 🙏😭💕)

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

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Non con sex pollen fic where Joel and the reader are waken up in a random room together and he recognizes who you are because he used to be friends with ur dad , he starts begging the people who took them to let him out because the reader isn’t the only person that’s ended up in this situation with him, and then there’s smoke that enters the room but it only has an effect on Joel, if you even decide to turn this into anything can you add oral f receiving pls and do the smut however you want! I’ll love it either way <3 IM SO SORRY ITS ALOT

Lazaretto (sex pollen)

2.6k ONE SHOT / joel x afab!reader / master

Part 2 HERE

WARNINGS: non-con, sex pollen, manhandling, oral f receiving, unsafe P in V sex, anal, reader menstruates. poorly edited. Horror elements apparently lol idk how sex pollen is normally written. 18+

You wake up in a heavy-duty four-wall tent with a burly stranger, both of you in hospital gowns. You were sedated and you're still groggy when a man in a biohazard suit explains you’re being quarantined in a makeshift lazaretto outside the overcrowded army hospital. Neither of you were bitten in the chaos earlier, but it’s a precaution. You'll be monitored for 24 hours, treated with an antifungal fog, then monitored for another 24 hours before they release you. You sign a release about potential side effects which include psychological and sexual disturbances.

He doesn’t elaborate, but Joel is clearly disturbed as if it’s not his first time.

“No,” he says. “No!" He screams, then begs, "Let me out, or let her out, I don’t care.”

“I’m not authorized to let anyone out.”

“Then put me in my own tent!"

“I’m afraid we’re far past capacity. Most units have three.”

“Can you at least tie me up or somethin’?”

“I’m afraid not.”

"Then get me away from her!"

You're offended and confused. The quarantine man leaves. For a while, neither of you talk except to say some variation of, “this is bullshit.” Joel seems genuinely distressed. You have your own problems to worry about. You’re at the tail end of your period and don’t have any provisions, not even any underwear. You want to check and see if you’re still bleeding, but not with this stranger in the tent.

You ask him, “What are you so worried about?”

He starts to say something but stops himself and says, “I’ll tell you later.”

"What did I do?" You ask and your temples feel weak.

He recognizes how mean he must have sounded. "Nothing at all, sugar. It's me. I had. . . a bad reaction in the past."

He changes the subject and tells you he recognizes you. It hits you - Joel Miller - he used to run a smuggling route with your dad. Life has hardened Joel into a much stronger, more attractive man since then. He’s not a big talker, but he occasionally indulges your questions about pre-outbreak life. You start to really enjoy his company. For a minute at a time, you manage to forget about the scary circumstances.

There’s one old cot and a blanket. He says you can have them because he won’t be able to sleep anyway. You’re not comfortable but you manage to fall asleep. You wake up shivering and ask if he’ll join you. He hesitantly agrees, then settles in behind you. You grab his hand and hold it tight. You’re gushing between the legs. You expect a nice red spot on both your gowns in the morning, but that should be the least of your worries.

“Do you think we’re okay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” he replies softly in your ear.

You start sniffling. “I’m scared.”

He tightens his arm over you. “I know, sugar. You’re gonna be alright. We’re alright.” You can hear his heart beating faster.

As you drift off to sleep, it’s impossible not to notice through your gowns when his dick hardens against you. He backs off a little but you push your ass back into him and tighten your grip on his hand. His chest swells against your back and you feel him inhale your hair, but he doesn't make a move and neither do you.

When you wake up, he’s lying on his stomach on the floor using his massive bicep as a pillow. Before he notices you’re awake, you subtly dip your finger into youreslf to check for your period, and it’s not there. You were just wet. You sit up and look at the back of your gown. Nothing. When he sees you’re awake and sits up, the fear returns to his eyes. He says, “I reckon the fog will come soon, now.” There’s no clock, but he senses it. He moves his jaw side to side anxiously and his eyes dart around the tent.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He opens his mouth several times then stops before he manages to say it. “Look, if. . . If I do anything after they fog us. . . it’s not me, okay?"

"Okay. . .do anything like what?"

"It . . . The fog has an effect on certain people." He swallows and looks away. "Like a sexual effect. It can make you . . . Aggressive."

"Oh. . ."

"Listen. You can fight me off, do whatever you have to do, okay?"

"Okay."

Your heart beats faster wondering what's in store. You can’t imagine it’s that bad.

Finally, one side of the tent ripples as a small, circular portal is opened and something clicks into it. The tent begins to fill with fog. The fog smells faintly like a thunderstorm and settles toward the ground before it slowly rises. Joel backs away from it, sitting in the very corner of the tent as it spreads across the floor. As the fog continues to pour in, he stands up and turns his face toward the ceiling. But it reaches him. He tries not to breathe it, with his mouth in his gown, but it’s no use. He squats down, facing away from you.

He swallows. “I’m sorry.” His voice is shaky. He looks back at you one last time apologetically, then pinches his eyes shut and takes deep breaths. The fog valve is shut. For a few minutes, you can hardly see him.

You hear the sticky footsteps of his bare feet on the floor, then he gets close enough to see him through the fog, just a few feet away from you. His whole face has darkened. And it further darkens as he looks at you in a trance. He wets his lips like you’re something to eat. His chest rises and falls with heaving breaths.

Minutes ago, it was hard to imagine being afraid of him, but he’s a whole different man now. You get up from the cot, walk backwards to the opposite side of the tent, and sit in the corner.

He crosses the tent in two long, swift strides. As he looms over you, it’s impossible to ignore the massive tent in his gown or his muscular thighs.

“Get up,” he demands through the fading fog. You look down and stay where you are, pulling your gown over your knees, shrinking into yourself.

“GET UP NOW!” he yells with his mouth wide open, face red, hair bouncing.

You still don’t.

"I’m sorry,” he says, then darkens again. “But you're askin' for it.” He squats down and gently cups your face. “Get up.”

You don’t. “You don’t want to do this.” A last ditch effort: “I have my period!” But it only makes him more feral. You see it in his face right after you say it.

Joel grabs you roughly by both elbows and manhandles you to your feet, then pushes you over to the cot. He tears your gown off and throws you down on the cot face-up. He scans you head to toe. You futilely try to cover yourself with your arms and hands. You’d feel even more naked without the fog though, which still hangs in the air. You start to sit up and he forces you back down, pinning you with an arm across your chest. "Starving,” he growls in your ear, giving you butterflies. He grabs your hand off your pussy then shoves his own between your legs and the butterflies swarm to your core. You try and fail to keep your legs shut tight but the pressure of your thighs around his hand feels far too good between your legs.

“Joel, stop,” you plead. “You’re not yourself.” You beg him to stop, but you're getting wetter by the minute. His intensity turns you on.

“No use, darlin’.” He inserts his middle finger and breathes heavily. “Nothin’s stoppin’ this."

You still try, though. You thrash and kick, then he grabs you by the arms so hard his fingers dig deep into your muscles, practically to the bone. “Sit still, damnit.” He softens only for a moment. “Don't wanna have to hurt you.” Then he darkens again.

Your face gets cold and you swallow. He kneels at the foot of the cot and uses your thighs to violently yank you toward him so your ass is at the end. He pries your legs open and holds them that way with his massive hands. His mouth latches onto your pussy and you’re flooded with a rush of arousal as the hook of his nose begins to massage your clit. He really digs in, pressing his lips hard into you, thrusting his tongue inside you. A ball of tension gathers in your traitorous core and you twitch.

He’s grunting “Mm” as he sucks and laps. You squirm and he forces you still again and continues, ravenous to consume you. He looks up with black eyes, and the animal between your legs terrifies you. He intensifies his eating and you feel it coming. The next time he thrusts his tongue inside you, his nose drags up your clit. You moan and your spine arches as you see stars. He stops and watches you unravel with his head still firmly planted between your legs. Your eyes water with your pulsations as you stare up at the ceiling of the tent. He lifts his head and a lighter patch of his beard is just barely tinged with your period. He dug it out of you. He inserts his fingers and you clench around him with the aftershocks. You close your eyes and catch your breath.

He must stand up, because before you know it, you feel his tip at your entrance. Your body wants him inside you. You could make it easy on him, but you don’t want him to fuck you and regret it. It’s not just your body – you’re realizing you want him, too. You may be getting ahead of yourself, but it’s the product of a near-death experience, of being sealed in a tent with him for 24 hours, and of getting head within an inch of your life. The perfect storm. If you’re going to have him, it has to be under different circumstances or he may never want to do it again.

He begins to push in.

“Joel, no!” You squirm and thrash.

He sighs. “You're just gonna tucker yourself out like that.”

You still give it your best try, but he’s right. You’re no match for his strength. He overpowers you, pins you down with his weight, then shoves his thick cock into you with a grunt. Your wet little hole can hardly take him. You yelp as his unforgiving girth splits you open and fills you up. When his length retreats, you try to push him off, but you can’t. “You’re takin' it one way or another, darlin’.”

He bottoms out with a guttural roar like he’s charging into battle. He pounds you brutally, slamming to the hilt each time. It hurts but it isn’t long before it starts to feel okay, then good, and then, the delicious stretch of his girth feels like something you never knew you needed. After a minute or two, you stop squirming and thrashing. It's happening, and you might as well enjoy it.

When you stop fighting, he takes his weight off you and stands at the foot of the cot, your thighs in his hands, pulling you back on his dick as his hips snap into you. His hair is messy and his face and neck are splotched red. His big arms bulge out from under the gown. You’ve never seen such intensity on anyone’s face before.

After a few minutes of him pistoning into you, you feel another climax building. You whimper and he rails you even harder, sweating, grunting, growling. When you come, it’s a burst unlike anything you've ever felt. You hear yourself wailing as he fucks you through it. Your walls are still contracting around his cock when he grabs onto your hips for dear life and plunges into you with more force than ever.

You realize he’s going to come inside and yell, “No!” You try to get away. You try to fight back, but he’s too strong and determined. Rage falls across his face. A groan rips out of his throat as his cock erupts into you, pulsing massively, extending your climax longer than you thought possible. It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before.

Your whole body is spent. When he’s finished coming, he slides out of you and you lie there limp with your eyes closed. It’s quiet for a minute. The fog has settled more.

He groans softly. Then, "I'm sorry. . ." You open your eyes and sit up. You reach for him at the foot of the cot, but he backs away. It seems like he can't look at you. His eyes are tearful.

"It's okay. Look at me, Joel. It's okay."

It's quiet for a minute.

"God damnit,” he whispers. He covers himself and when your eyes follow his hand, it’s clear he’s hard again or it never went away. The fog has faded enough that it seems he at least has the wherewithal to jack off instead. "Close your eyes," he says as he turns away and wraps his hand around his cock. You study his eyes and they’re dark, but not as dark as they were. You lie down with your eyes shut and listen to his breath and the squish of his hand around his cock, wet with your slick.

The rhythmic squish gets closer and closer. You open your eyes to the darkest look on his face. He’s standing there at the foot of the cot, gown pushed up out of the way again as he strokes his stiff, imposing cock.

“Flip over,” he demands but gives you no time to comply. He grabs you under the arms.

“Okay, okay,” you comply and he forces you down on your stomach.

He wedges the tip of his cock between your cheeks, aligning himself at your asshole. You’re terrified. You beg, "no, wait," but he's not there anymore. It's not really him.

He plunges into your tight, virgin hole and you yelp in shock. His hands on your hips lift your ass in the air and you bury your head in your arm, biting your own skin as he yanks you back into him, making your ass flush with his pelvis. You’re stuffed full of him, fuller than you’ve ever felt, even fuller than when he was in your pussy.

He pummels you with abandon and your eyes well up in tears. You're mortified, you've never done this before, and you have so many fears – is he going to ruin you? Is there going to be a mess? But each time he buries his length in your ass, it feels better and your fears fade into pleasure. The longer he pounds you, the better it feels. It feels surprisingly good, much better than you ever thought it would. The tent seems to echo with his grunts and the slap of skin.

Another orgasm is brewing as he pounds your guts. It builds faster this time. He grunts louder, then your whole body is seized by the deepest, most powerful climax. You whimper, then your whimper turns into a groan as your ass spasms and your pussy clenches around nothing.

And then he pulses inside you, filling up another hole. By the time he's through with you, you're filled to the brim with him. He slides out and you turn around.

He stumbles backwards in horror at what he's done.

“I’m sorry, sugar. I’m so sorry."

Part 2 HERE

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