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celestie0 · 1 day

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff drabble no.1 third wheeling

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, an insane amount of edging, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. drabble #1

ᰔ words. 2.4k

a/n. hello!! welcome to my very first kickoff drabble :0 i’m reaaallyyy close to finishing ch10 (which tbh i might split into three separate chapters bc it’s fucking 30k words) but i just had this silly idea for a drabble that i wanted to write. i briefly headcanoned that gojo, mina & todo all hung out once before and had a trauma-dumping session, so i wanted to explore that haha. sorry if the writing is ehhh i just kinda knocked this out in an hour.

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☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

timeline note: this is written in gojo’s pov, and it’s set between chapters 3 and 4 (so after reader first went to one of gojo’s practices for her film major assignment, but before the scene she walks in on gojo making out with shoko in that party bathroom. basically before gojo had feelings for her and also before they kissed for the first time)

—

“What? Why do you have to bring Mina?” Gojo asks as he holds his phone between his ear and shoulder, packing his duffel bag for his away game tomorrow. Oh well, unmatching socks for three days it is.

“Because,” Todo’s deep voice on the other end of the line buzzes with a frequency that is far too low for the mic of his phone to pick up with clarity, “she’s my woman, bro. And she wants to spend time with me today, too.”

Gojo groans as he zips up his bag, tosses it onto the floor nearby the door, and then flops onto his bed. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those dudes that blows off his bros to hang out with his girlfriend.”

“Not blowing you off, the three of us will just hang out together. And trust me, Satoru,” Todo’s voice drawls, “when you feel the same way about a girl the way I feel for my buttercup, you’ll understand.”

Gojo scratches his eyebrow with his knuckles and grimaces with skepticism as he stares up at the ceiling. The puppy love he’s had to hear about anytime he’s talked to Todo since the day the guy started dating Mina has been nauseating to say the least, and he’s starting to wonder if he should’ve introduced the two of them in the first place. Maybe he’s just being bitter, but no one wants to third wheel.

But that’s what he finds himself doing anyways. Sitting at a brunch spot instead of a daytime bar because Mina wanted to drink bottomless mimosas instead of beer on tap.

“Can we go halfsies?” Mina purrs as she reaches over the table to Todo’s plate, attempting to steal a piece of steak off of it but Todo shakes an index finger in the air.

“No, princess, allow me,” Todo offers, sticking his fork into meat that was so well-done Gojo could physically see it recoil from the action. And then Todo is bringing his fork to Mina’s mouth, and she’s looking him dead in the eyes as she pops it in her mouth.

Gojo sinks further down into the booth, if he slid any further he’d be laying horizontal, and his leg is bouncing underneath the table with impatience and irritance. The waiter comes by to ask him how the food is, and he says great despite the fact his arms have been crossed at his chest the entire duration it’s been placed untouched in front of him.

“Why you sulkin’ there, pal?” Todo asks, mirth in his eyes like he knows he’s torturing his friend.

This doesn’t make any fucking sense. It was supposed to just be the two of them today. A bro’s hangout. They had important things to discuss, like Fantasy Football and their Hot Ones rip-off YouTube channel idea.

“Does this place serve anything harder than this?” he asks, uncrossing one of his hands to hold up the chilled glass of mimosa that was 90% sparkling wine and 10% juice, since he poured it himself.

“You can try a different establishment,” Mina shrugs as she chews. Which she’ll probably be doing for the next two minutes, because of the well-doneness.

Gojo groans like a toddler. Todo kicks his shin underneath the table. Gojo all but growls at him.

“Just because my lady here is not interested in talking about sorority orgies like you are, doesn’t mean we all cannot engage in meaningful conversation,” Todo says.

“When the fuck have I ever talked about sorority orgies?” Gojo hisses at him. The waiter who was coming by to fill up water most definitely overheard the topic of conversation, because he spins on his heel and will likely never tend to their table again for the duration of their stay.

Okay. Maybe he was being a bit too bitter. But truthfully, he’s never had a relationship like Mina and Todo have. Well, in honesty, he doesn’t really want one like that in the first place. He’s not too into lovey-dovey bullshit, but who knows, maybe someday when he meets the right girl, he might turn into that kind of guy, just like Todo prophesied. But right now, it just makes him grumble in…jealousy? Like, oh, look, one of my closest buddies is all lovesick on a Thursday afternoon with his girlfriend who seems to not mind at all that he has had a smudge of pan sauce on his cheek for the better part of the past ten minutes. Matter of fact, she finds it endearing. What’s that like?

And then he reminds himself he’s not looking for a relationship, anyways. He’s fine with what he gets from women, and he’ll leave it at that.

Todo tries to pick up the bill, and Gojo feels humiliated by it so he asks for a separate check. The restaurant doesn’t split bills, and he ends up paying for all three.

“Mm…this is where we had our first kiss, babe. Do you remember?” Mina sighs delightedly as she holds onto Todo’s arm, walking through trees into a secluded area of the city’s park.

Gojo trails behind, his hands in his pockets, grumbling annoyances to himself. He glances at the time on his smart watch. Practice in two hours. He wanted to kill time before then, but time seems to be going even slower now.

“I remember that kiss like it was yesterday, love,” Todo says with charm before kissing Mina’s forehead. Would it be inappropriate and petty if Gojo pretended to gag?

The couple settle down with memory onto grass near a tree trunk that’s located right in front of a sparkling lake. Gojo takes a few steps forward past them until the tips of his shoes dips into the water and he makes eye contact with a duck.

He hears a lighter click behind him, and he turns around to find Todo sparking the end of a fat blunt. He watches the muscle man suck through it before passing it to Mina, who does the same and then extends her arm out towards the lake to offer it to him too.

“Satoru doesn’t smoke, babe,” Todo tells her, “athlete drug rules and all.”

Fuck it. He walks up to them onto the grass and sits down criss-cross right in front of Mina, taking the joint from her and pulls his own share of smoke through his teeth.

“I’m surprised you smoke, Mina,” Gojo tells her, the air in front of him turning cloudy as he speaks, and he hands the blunt back to Todo.

“Occasionally,” she says, “oh gosh, don’t tell y/n though, she has this crazy fear about commercial weed having flesh-eating bacteria in it, and she’d kill me if she found out I’ve ignored all her fear mongering.”

Gojo blinks at her. “Why would you mention flesh-eating bacteria infested weed while we’re smoking?”

She shrugs. “Sorry.”

“This is nice,” Todo chirps in, “my best friend and my girl. All three of us hanging out together.”

“But you said I was your best friend,” Mina pouts, “and your girl.”

Gojo has run out of imaginary gags to give.

“I mean it, seriously!” Todo says, “two of the people who know me the best, sitting with me. I love you guys.”

Mina swoons and lays her head on Todo’s shoulder. For a moment, Gojo’s eyes soften at the sight. And he feels happy for his friend. And then he realizes Todo is crying.

“What—” Gojo stutters, jaw dropping and brows furrowing at the sight.

Mina lifts her head off of Todo’s shoulder to look at him, concern in her eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just—” Todo starts, tears streaming down his face freely, “all my life, people have treated me like some really macho masculine guy. All muscles, and bursting abs, and thundering thighs, and deadlifts over four-hundred pounds—”

“Okay, we get it,” Gojo sighs as he perks his elbow up on his knee and lays his head down on his hand.

“—but you two…you two see me for who I really am. I’m just a sensitive guy who craves connection,” he says through a macho sniffle, and Mina reaches up to wipe at his tears. “I appreciate that.”

Gojo purses his lips together in consideration of Todo’s words, and he reaches out to pat the guy on the thigh in reassurance. “Let it out, big boy.”

And he does. He softly sobs for a minute or so, and Mina is lovingly doting at him the entire time. And there’s that jealous pang in Gojo’s chest again. He ignores it by taking another drag.

“You know…Todo,” Mina chimes in softly, “I moved around a lot when I was younger because my dad was in the military…for as long as I can remember, I’ve had such a hard time making friends. And sometimes, I’d even get bullied for being different, and being the ‘new girl’ everywhere I went…”

Gojo shrinks a little from where he’s sitting, realizing that the two of them are opening up about their feelings.

“But I’ve felt so happy and at home at UTokyo…I got to meet you here,” she grins, kissing Todo’s cheek, “oh, and I guess I got to meet you too, Gojo.”

He gives a nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Mina’s laying her head on Todo’s shoulder again, peering off into the lake. “And y/n, she’s my best friend. From day one when I met her, she’s always been there for me. She’s never made me feel like I need to prove anything to be myself around her. I can just be, and that’s enough. Sure, sometimes she gets a little mad about things, but I know that she’ll always be there for me at the end of the day. I think she’s the first friend I’ve had where I really understand what true friendship is.”

Mina has tears shining in her eyes too. And at the mention of you, Gojo realizes he’s listening intently. Like he needs to know more.

“I’m really grateful I’ve gotten to meet the people that I have here,” she continues, “it really is a blessing to be seen by those around you.”

Her words hang heavy in Gojo’s mind, along with the haze in his head he’s barely managing to fight off, and he feels his breathing pick up.

The two of them suddenly turn their heads to look at him, and he blinks at them.

“Well,” Todo says, “it’s your turn, man.”

“My turn for what?” Gojo asks.

“To open up, silly,” Mina laughs as she wipes a tear off her cheek.

“I—“ Gojo starts, feeling like he’s been put on the spot. He glances at his watch again. An hour until practice. “I…don’t really have much to open up about.”

“Really?” Mina asks, “nothing at all? There’s nothing on your mind right now?”

“I guess not.”

“I find that so hard to believe,” Mina scoffs, “you’re the school’s star soccer player, the best player the division has seen in years, you’re a super popular hot shot that’s adored by all the girls, and all the guys wanna be you, too.” She continues to list off these facts of his life like anyone from a mile away could read him like a book, “surely you’ve got a lot on your mind. Pressure? Worry? Or maybe you’re just on cloud 9 all the time and thinking god damn, am I glad as fuck I was born this way. That’s okay, too. Shows you’re self aware.”

“Yeah,” Todo chimes in, “whatever you’re feeling is valid, bro.”

Gojo looks between the two of them. If he felt like he was third wheeling before, now he just feels like he’s in couple’s therapy. Except the couple are the therapists.

“Uh. I guess I feel pressure,” he finally opens up, “my dad played soccer, way back in the day, and I guess I want to honor…him.” The words feel bitter on his tongue, unfamiliar and strange, and for a moment he considers why words are said at all if most are left better unsaid.

“Mm…” Mina acknowledges him, “is your father still around?”

Gojo is shocked at the question, and he answers entirely on reflex. “No. He’s not.”

It just occurs to him that Todo of all people should at least know about his father. But the guy’s not a die-hard soccer fan like most people around Gojo are, and then there’s a sad sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that maybe his father’s legacy is gone, and this was the proof. Faded away, a career cut too short to make any real change in the world. The thought has his heart physically hurt in his chest.

“Okay,” Mina chirps in again, blunt like the roll of weed pinched between her fingers, when she speaks again, “so you struggle with having an estranged father?”

“Not estranged,” Gojo clarifies, feeling chill to his bone in spring heat, “he’s dead.”

The two of them become silent at his deadpan, and quickly steal a glance at one another before stiffening in discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” Mina says, dropping her haze slightly.

Now he feels like he’s turned things sour.

“It’s fine,” Gojo waves his hand dismissively in the air, or maybe to break up smoke, “I mean, it’s not, but, it’s fine.”

“Well which one is it, bro?” Todo asks, “is it fine, or not?”

A question that has haunted him for years.

“It’s fine,” he assures them.

Conversation is normal after that, as he continues to watch Mina and Todo live in soulmate glory with stolen kisses and inside jokes that sound entirely way too absurd out of context, but the thoughts of his unsuccessful trauma dump don’t leave him. Not until he cracks a small smile at how ridiculously silly and cute a girl has to be to think that all commercial weed has flesh-eating bacteria in it.

——

[fast forward to tomorrow, game day]

“Choso,” Gojo walks right up to his teammate in the middle of the locker room while the guy pulls his uniform shirt on over his head, “gimme some of your urine.”

“What??” the dark-haired man guffaws. “Why?”

“Uhh I kinda smoked some weed yesterday, so I’m not going to pass the test,” he says as he holds his urine cup out to him. Of fucking course the one time he doesn’t adhere to subtance rules, they test for urine. “C’mon. Don’t be stingy with your piss.”

“Dude,” Choso looks him dead in the eye, “I was going to ask you for your piss. I went to a Joji concert last night.”

“What?!” Gojo gasps, “without me?!”

a/n: they blackmailed nanami for his urine

[the end]

a/n. LOL thanks so much for reading this if you did haha, it was fun to write in kickoff gojo’s pov, it feels like it’s been forever. the contents in this chapter are kinda sorta relevant for ch10, so i just thought it’d be fun to write about it. see you all in the next one!!

➸ you're all caught up!

———

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daydreaming-nerd · 3 days

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The Prophecy (Azriel x Rhys! Sister) Bonus Chapter

AN: I'm happy you guys wanted a bonus chapter because I totally wanted to write one. I'm happy this series was so loved and I can't wait for you guys to see what Azriel fics I'm cooking up next!

Part 1, Part 2 ,

Azriel's Verson: Part 3 (final)

Lucien's Verson: Part 3 (final)

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right?

Warnings: some fluffy smut, a little Azriel dirty talk, and fluffy ending.

Word count: 2,356

I take a shaky breath and take in the sheer desperation on his face, “I love you too Azriel,” I laugh feeling another tear slip down my cheek.

He doesn’t waste a moment, stepping through my threshold and cupping my cheek to place a searing kiss on my lips. I melt into him, feeling his clothes soaking my own as my nightgown clings to my skin. His hands are on my waist, scarred and cold from the elements but still so intoxicating. My arms wrap around him pulling him further into the entryway. I hear him slam the door shut with his boot drowning out the sound of rain leaving only the music of our ragged breaths as he kisses me deeper.

He pulls away to press his forehead to mine, his wet hair and skin causing drops of water to cascade down my own face.

“I love you so much,” he breathes cupping my cheek to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “My mate.”

I feel my back hit the wall behind me rattling the small mirror mounted on it. Azriel’s hands were greedily pulling on every inch of me. His kiss was frantic and needy, like the man had been deprived of any warm touch for months and come to think of it he probably had.

I feel his hands wandering up the bare expanse of my thighs. Oh how I had dreamed of feeling that scarred skin leaving its brand on me. I had dreamt of nothing else for years. He lifted me onto a small table and I heard a vase crash and shatter on the floor next to us. I immediately rip away from him but it doesn’t stop him from trialing his lips down my neck, like he might cease to exist if his lips and hands aren’t all over me.

“Azriel my vase!” I exclaim laughing at how he isn’t even phased by the broken ceramic on the ground. “We’re going to destroy my house!”

He smirks against my lips, “Then how about we take this upstairs?” he smiles.

There’s a frenzy of shadows and then I’m in my own bedroom, the fireplace roaring to life providing us with light. I had never been so thankful for such blessed light as Azriel peeled off his soaking wet shirt and discarded it onto the chair by the fire. It would dry in no time.

I allowed my eyes to wander the expanse of his body. Sure I had seen the male shirtless before, I had bumped into him taking a steam after the legendary snowball fight 300 years ago and nearly fell to my knees. But this time? This time it was different because he was mine, and he was looking at me with just as much hunger as I did him.

“Say it again,” he commanded, his voice dropping an octave as he took a languid step forward placing his hands on my waist.

“Say what again?” I tease placing a kiss on his bare chest, something I always dreamed of doing. Cauldron help this male, I was probably never going to get my fill of him.

His hand slides under my chin tilting it up, “You know what,” he says more sternly.

I lean in close just brushing my lips against his, “I love you.”

A low growl emits from him as he pulls me into his kiss once more. He pressed his body into me the evidence of his arousal grazing my stomach. I take a couple steps back, my legs hit the bed and before I can let myself fall onto it he slips the straps of my too thin nightgown off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. As soon as he feels my hardened nipples brushing against his chest he looks down taking me in.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he murmurs into my lips, those scared hands wandering over my exposed skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Says you,” I trailing my fingers from his shoulders, over his pecs and down his abs. My hands dip to his breeches where I can see him ready and wasting, but just as my fingers slip under the hem my wrists are yanked up.

“Not yet,” he smiles deviously, landing a quick kiss on my lips. “Lie down on the bed, I want to properly worship my mate.” he orders and if his words.

I hang on every word he says as they drip from his mouth like honey. I let my bare back lay down on the soft sheets of the bed, and his eyes take in every inch of me from where he stands at the edge of the bed. He kneels on the bed, grabbing one of my ankles and bringing it up to his mouth to press a kiss to it. The gesture is so simple yet so intimate, so arousing. Scared hands and soft lips trail up the expanse of my leg, the feather light touches making me grow wetter and wetter where I needed him most. His mouth stops at my inner thigh leaving a light bite mark on the inside of it.

“Fucking perfect,” he mutters between my legs, kissing me everywhere but where I want him to.

My breath hitches as I feel the heat of his breath on my sex. Those hazel eyes flit up to me as he slowly lowers his head to my folds. He licks a long stripe up my center and I find my hands tangling in his silken night black hair, pulling and tugging on it as he feasts on me.

“Oh gods Azriel!” I cry out.

The sight of Azriel’s head between my legs, licking and sucking like a starved man was erotic enough to have me curling my toes. But the sound of his mouth on me? The warm wet tongue flicking my clit, the moans of pleasure that reverberated through him? That was truly something to behold.

I feel one of his fingers enter me and I gasp, arching my back off the bed. A scarred hand instantly splays over my stomach, keeping me down. I can feel Azriel’s smirk between my legs as he adds another finger, curling them both to hit that spot that has me letting out a cry. He smiles again, seemingly loving his ability to make his mate scream as he shakes his head back and forth, tongue moving over my clit at a pace that has me trying to arch on the mattress as I feel my claimax wash over me.

“Azriel!” I scream as my legs shake and tremble beneath him.

His hazel eyes watch me intently as I come undone for him, eagerly lapping at my clit taking everything I give him. Even when I’m left as a mess of shallow breaths I still want more of him.

He places one last kiss against my clit, “My mate makes such pretty sounds for me,” he says smugly.

Soft lips covered in my arousal find their way to my hips then my stomach, then the curve of my breast. My breath hitches again as I realize how painfully hard my nipples are and I wonder if it's the bond making me feel this way. The need for more.. more, more, more, more.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, placing a kiss to each taut nipple earning a groan for me.

“Azriel please, I need you,” I beg, running my hands through his hair.

“Shhh I feel it too,” he says, kissing my neck, confirming that the bond is screaming at him too. “Do you know how it felt to come over all the time and find you wearing nothing but those tiny little nightgowns you love so much? How badly I wanted to rip them apart with my teeth and have you right there?” he groans leaving love bites

I let out a small gasp at his words and then think of all the times I felt the same, “What about me?” I laugh as he trails kisses over my jaw, his hard on pressing into my core. I wasn’t sure when he rid himself of his pants but I wasn’t going to complain. “All those times I saw you come back from training, sweaty and dirty? Or the time I ran into you outside of the steam room and you nearly dropped your towel?”

He pulls back to look at me, “I was a fool then, and never again. My mate will have me whenever and however she wants,” he groans pressing a deep kiss to my lips.

“Say it again,” I ask, caressing his face to move the hair from his eyes.

“I love you y/n,” he breathes, kissing me slow.

In one slow movement he enters me fully, a guttural cry falling from my mouth as he buries his head in the crook of my neck.

“Oh gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans pulling out slowly and thrusting in again.

His hips move in leisurely motions, as if he’s wanting to savor every moment of being inside me. My hands rake down his back as his fervent sounds in my ear have me needing more of him.

“Azriel harder,” I whimper, digging my fingernails into his broad shoulders.

He smirks and presses a lazy kiss to my ear before slamming into me harder. I let out a strangled sound as I grasp onto him, needing anything to try and ground myself.

“Gods you’re so fucking perfect,” he groans slamming his hips into mine. “Everything about my mate is perfect,” he says, sucking the peak of my breast into his mouth.

“Oh gods Azriel its so-” my words get caught in my throat as he hits a particularly sensitive part of me.

The sounds of skin slapping reverberates throughout the room as I feel myself quickly approaching the cliff I was just standing at the edge of. I’ve been told my whole life that sex is different with your mate, that it’s more than just pleasure, it's the binding of souls. I never believed a word, not caring for semantics and retellings from newly mated pairs who couldn’t keep their hands off each other at dinner parties. But now I understand all of it.

“I love you so much,” Azriel mutters, his voice even deeper and rougher than before.

“I love you too Az,” I pant brushing the hair from his face.

“Fuck you’re squeezing me so tight baby,” he groans as his face contorts with pleasure. “You’re going to cum aren’t you?” he asks the cocky persona coming back.

“Y-yes,” I choke out as I feel him piston into me harder.

“Are you on that special tonic?” he asks.

“Yes, I am,” I breathe out, my voice sounding ragged.

“Thank the fucking Cauldron!” Azriel praises his snap into me.

The feeling of him sliding in and out so fluidly, the fullness of him, the euphoria that comes every time he hits that spot, it has me falling apart, tears drifting down my face.

“Azriel I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me darling!” he growls and I feel him getting closer as well.

I cum hard with his name on my lips, feeling the pleasure go through every nerve of my body like a wave. I feel my pussy clenching around him and the second I do I hear him roar, his power trembling the house.

“Oh gods y/n!” he screams and sputters inside of me the warmth of his seed enough to make me want to go for round two just so he can fill me up again.

He collapses on me for a moment, laying his head on my chest as we both pant frantically. I subconsciously run my fingers through his hair, soothing both him and myself. He rolls off me and pulls me to lay on his chest, tilting my head up so he can see me.

“I love you so, so much,” he smiles, placing kisses on my face. “My beautiful, smart, caring, hilarious, perfect mate.” he says accentuating each word with a kiss.

“I love you too Az,” I smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

There was a time I thought I would never have this. Never have him. Yet here I was, lying in his arms. My body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat from the pleasure he pulls from me. My lips swollen and red from his kisses I never thought I would receive. I’ve dreamt of nothing else for 400 years.

“What do we do next?” I laugh realizing that all this had started from him coming to my door in the middle of a storm. Outside I could still hear thunder and rain pouring onto the roof.

“Well the conditions are too treacherous for me to fly home so I’ll have to crash here,” he smirks, rolling over so that he’s on top of me. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says, kissing my lips.

“I suppose I’ll take you in for the night,” I tease. “But I meant after that.”

“When the rain stops we’ll gather the family and have the mating ceremony and then you’ll be mine officially,” he says, kissing my cheek. “And then later on I’ll work on giving you some winged babies,” he smiles.

My heart flutters, “Oh Az really?” I gasp grasping both of his cheeks.

“Absolutely,” he nods. “But not until much later, we have all the time in the world and I’ll need to get my fill of you before I can even think about sharing your attention with a couple of baby bats.” he jokes.

“Speaking of getting my fill,” I smirk, rolling him over so that I’m straddling him. “I have 400 years of yearning to make up for,” I tease, placing a kiss on his chest.

“Is that so?” he laughs, throwing his hands behind his head.

“It sure is shadowsinger, you think you were in misery these past few months?” I sink myself onto his cock and both of us groan. “Get comfortable mate, you’re in for a night of ravishing.”

(If you liked this check out my masterlist I have a bunch of good Az on it's way and I'm doing a Ruhn mini series AND i'm currently writing a poly! bat boys x reader that's going to be pure smut because I've been reading the L.O.R.D.S series lol)

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202, @batboyrhyrhy , @kennedy-brooke , @sunshineangel-reads , @lilah-asteria , @evergreenlark

Taglist: @thatgirlangelb , @melmo567 , @hanatsuki-hime , @going-through-shit , @sirenpearldust , @randomperson1234sblog , @sunshineangel-reads , @cleverzonkwombatsludge , @sassybluebird , @dyingsinglecuzimfangirl , @deeshag , @0nlystellaa , @annaaaaa88 , @olive-main , @mirandasidefics , @bookishbroadwaybish , @darlingbravebelle , @phoenix666stuff , @lotusnegra , @lovelypru, @hailqueenconquer , @hardcoremarvelfan , @fantasyandshit , @acourtofbooksandinsanity , @batboyrhyrhy , @historygeekqueen , @slytherintaco , @saltedcoffeescotch , @azrael-22 , @sidthedollface2 , @thestartitaness , @crazylokonugget , @quinzzelx

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blue-jisungs · 1 day

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hello! i hope 2024 has been treating u well!

can i request where jaemin is ur new roommate and ur sorta pessimistic abt him for awhile cuz of his cats? then one day its just u and his cats and then u start warming up to them, not knowing that jaemin was watching the whole time please!

so sorry if this is too specific but thank u if u see this!!

cats and pizza

author's note. hi anonnie! sorry it took so long :( 2024 has been quite nice for me teehee, i hope it has been for u too <3 also this was so fun to write as someone who absolutely adores cats 😭

setting. vet med student !jaem x fashion designer student!yn

warnings. one of the cats pisses lol, pizza, swearing, yn doesn’t like cats and talks bad about them >:(

“oh come on, it’ll be fine! he looks nice and he’s a veterinary medicine student? come on, he must be… normal… i think” renjun hummed, looking through your shoulder at the text you got.

you rested your forehead against his arm and groaned while he took your phone and replied to the message.

“you need a roommate. stop being picky… besides, he’s not gonna be any weirder than the chenle guy… probably. hopefully” renjun cheered you on and patted your head.

your previous roommate, karina, had to move out so now you were in a desperate search of someone at her place because there’s no way you could single-handedly afford the rent. the landlord didn’t mind as long as it was paid so you could choose whoever you wanted.

but once you put the offer online, the amount of people and interviews crushed you. the rent was almost due and you had to hurry up – but it wasn’t your fault that all the interested individuals were… specific.

but getting a text from a guy named jaemin drew your attention. he wasn’t dry like all the previous guys and said that he’ll adapt into your schedule to come see the place – unlike others who set up the date and you didn’t have much choice.

you agreed to meet today and brought your bestie, renjun, as a moral support. and additional eye of judgement.

a knock on your door caused you to jerk up.

“it’s probably him” you sighed and ran to open the door “hi—”

your voice got stuck in your throat as your eyes met with a very handsome guy. a gummy smile bloomed on his lips as he reached his hand out.

“hi, i’m na jaemin! y/n, i assume?” he asked, voice full of positive energy. renjun appeared behind you.

“i… oh, right, you know my name. yes, y/n” you cleared your throat and shook his hand. it was warm and bigger than yours.

“renjun” your friend grunted and accidentally nudged your shoulder.

“i’ll show you around. do you want some water or anything to drink?” you asked nicely, stepping aside to let him in. while jaemin and you couldn’t take your eyes off each other, renjun let out a sigh.

“do you have any questions?” your friend asked, crossing his arms.

“oh, yeah! are pets allowed? cats specifically?” jasmin asked and you froze.

well, technically yes.

but you just weren’t a big fan of felines. they are just… mean. and ignorant.

but jaemin is so cute and–

“no”

“yes”

you looked at renjun surprised when you two spoke out at the same time. jaemin laughed (and goodness, if it wasn’t the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard), throwing his head back slightly.

“yes they are. i’m just more of a dog person, you see” you hummed. jaemin sent you a warm smile.

“don’t worry, they’re lovely” he reassured you and renjun urged to show him the room.

and you blame renjun to this day for that because if you were to listen, you would’ve paid attention and noticed that jaemin had said ‘they’.

was one of your main factors to settle for jaemin the fact that he was charming and handsome? yes. did you think he only has one cat? yes.

much to your surprise, along with a new roommate you got three cats as a bonus.

standing terrified in the middle of kitchen you watched one of them snuggle against your leg as jaemin watched with amusement.

“they are real angels. i promise they won’t cause any trouble” he hummed.

you moved away from the cat but it followed you, looking at you with its big, blue eyes.

“just for the love of god please… make sure they don’t shit in the kitchen. or come anywhere near my room” you murmured, jaw clenched. if that furry thing of a demon is going to brush against you again–

the cat must’ve somehow understood that and it purred, tail wrapping around your leg.

“go… away…” you whined, stepping back yet again.

“luke, c’mon” jaemin sighed and grabbed the cat in his arms. the beast animal was looking at you with a mischievous expression. a shiver run down your spine as you looked away, and a meow came somewhere from the distance.

the sound of happy little feet kept you awake at night. lucy, luna and luke (it was hard not to remember the names since jaemin had them engraved on almost everything) were playing around in the hallway. at 3am.

pressing a pillow to your ear and pulling the duvet over the other, you cursed mentally at your own stupidity. you hated cats, why would you even agree? sure, jaemin is really cool and there certainly is something between you two but the goddamn furry beasts…

a loud meow came from under your door.

and then a scratching sound.

“you have to be kidding me” with a groan, you left the bed and opened the door only to be met with a pair of evil looking cat.

“luna- lucy, whoever you are… get your ass out of here” you grunted and tried to whoosh the cat away. but it only meowed and tried to come into your room “no!”

it was middle of the night, you should be asleep and getting your well needed rest for today’s exam.

but you’re closing the door and fighting with a feline.

great, just great.

“jaemin!” you yelled out, not bothered by the fact that you’ll wake him up “na jaemin, get ahold of your goddamn furry devils!”

you heard his hurried footsteps and when he reached to hold the cat up, you noticed he’s not even angry in the slightest.

“luke, c’mon, no scratching the door. sorry, y/n. sleep well” jaemin hummed softly and walked away with the pet in his arms, scratching it’s head gently.

as much as you’d like to say that you warmed up to the cats it just wasn’t… very true. you just accepted their presence. you even refilled their bowls a couple of times or threw them a squeaky toy.

as long as they didn’t interfere with your personal space, you didn’t with theirs.

which you were glad for.

“i’m back! i have some leftover pizza if you’d like!” you yelled out, not even sure if he was home.

you went to leave the pizza in a safe space (you totally didn’t save it because you knew it was his favorite) and walked towards your room.

something was off - it was very quiet in the apartment. and… it smelled…

pushing the door open you saw lucy jump off your bed.

“what?” you grunted, noticing how the cat ran past you. before you realised the smell, you saw the source: cat urine.

on your uni project.

“no, you’ve got to be shitting me” your voice broke, walking up to the handmade material for a dress. it was certainly pissed on.

but how did the cat end up here? you closed the door to prevent exactly such thing from happening.

tears were falling from your eyes, feeling helpless.

lucy was peeking at you from behind the door cautiously. maybe she sneaked in before you left and then you accidentally locked her in? yeah, that’s the only possible reason.

but that doesn’t make the situation any better (or the cloth any less stinky)

“ew… y/n…”

you heard jaemin’s mocking voice but the moment you turned around and he saw your quivering lip, his face dropped.

“what happened?” jaemin asked, walking in.

“i… lucy peed on my dress… which was my project for tomorrow… i don’t know what to do…” whines and sobs ripped out of your chest. jaemin sighed, eyeing the situation.

the said cat meowed as if saying sorry.

then, you felt two warm arms wrapping around your shaking body.

“it’s going to be fine, i’ve dealt with this countless of times before” he said calmly, fingers caressing your hair “let me handle this”

you sobbed into his chest – maybe from the stress of relief – and jaemin continued to soothe you, his cat watching you two curiously.

this day was shitty as hell. it’s been two weeks since the pee accident and luckily you managed to save your project. and whereas that made your mood lighten up, today was just a bad day.

you lost $20, dropped your phone and cracked its screen, and on your way back home rain started pouring and soaked you completely.

the warmth of your place was nice and made you feel secure. the second you stepped inside, you broke down.

everything just snapped and you sat down on the floor, careless to the fact that all the water is pooling around you.

cries left your lips, tears mixing with the raindrops on your face.

suddenly, something warm and fluffy crawled on your lap.

at first you wanted to push it away but upon meeting luna’s blue eyes staring at you cutely, you didn’t. you let her stay, unsurely resting your hand and her head. when she purred, you took it as a sign to let her.

sobs mixing with purrs drew the other two, lucy snuggling next to you, pawing the material of your sweats, and luke staring at the scene.

the cats silently comforted you, it hit you.

because of that, you started crying even more; feeling bad about the way you treated them before.

the quiet sound of door opening fell deaf on your ears.

jaemin looked down and his heart warmed upon the scene. he was proud of his kids, they reacted the same way he would.

“i have some pizza, i figured you’d want some” he announced quietly and you nodded.

maybe that’s all you needed after all: cats and pizza.

masterlist <3

taglist. @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @w3bqrl ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @haecien

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halfricanloveyou · 1 year

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here’s the thing about being nonbinary for me personally: it is not and has never been about breaking boundaries or daring to be different or freedom of gender expression that made me suddenly choose to be nonbinary.

i have always been this way. i’ve always known but never fully understood why i felt so uncomfortable being a woman. it had nothing to do with leaning more towards femininity or masculinity or gender roles or hating women.

i have always felt that i have never been a woman. it never felt right to me being defined as one. though i share a lot of experiences with women due to society seeing me as a woman and people in society treating me that way, disliking femininity wasn’t what made me think i was nonbinary.

what made me really fully realize and understand was when i realized that when it came to me personally, i didn’t care about femininity OR masculinity. i didn’t really think in those kinds of terms when it came to myself either. the idea of gender isn’t one i felt applied to me, as a person.

i didn’t care about being a woman. i didn’t care about what things were labeled as “feminine” or what i was supposed to be like as a woman. i didn’t WANT to be a woman. i didn’t feel like a woman.

at the same time, i didn’t want to be masculine. i didn’t want to be seen as a man. though i feel i have more in common with men, i still never felt that i was a man.

it was always really difficult and alienating for me, not understanding why i felt so much dysphoria at being seen as a woman OR as a man. why being called either just never felt fully right to me. why trying to be either felt like a chore or a costume i had to put on, and when i was called or mistaken as either i felt like i wanted to scream and cry. why i never understood why i wasn’t good enough as either gender, not feminine enough or masculine enough, not fitting into either category.

i tried to force myself to be a woman. i tried really hard to be more feminine, really hard to force myself to see myself as a woman. i tried really hard to be like the many women i know and have known. and i tried the same on the opposite end. i tried to force myself to be more masculine. i tried to dress differently and posture differently. and it still felt deeply wrong to me.

i’d always appealed more to animals specifically because they didn’t have to worry or care about whether they were seen as boys or girls and they could be loved just as dearly even when their owners had no idea or what gender they were. how being a girl or a boy had very little impact on who they were because it didn’t really matter to them, and how people were always excited to see a dog or cat and what gender they thought the animal was didn’t change how they approached that animal because in reality, whether the animal was a boy or a girl came secondary to the fact that it WAS a pet, a dog or a cat, and in reality nobody really cared about what gender the animal was. and the animal itself also didn’t care or have any sense of it’s own gender outside of hormones and reproduction.

with the several farm cats i owned gender meant nothing when it came to their group dynamics: the cats that were “in charge” or the more combative cats that would chase off and fight cats outside of their colony or the ones who would hunt and bring food to share with each other, who were protective of the other cats in the colony and would attack any troublemakers that intentionally tried to pick a fight; or the ones who preferred to lay back and were more affectionate, who would all lay together and who would simply sit and stare when a cat they were unfamiliar with tried to enter their territory; or the cats that were the ones who seemed to be targeted and picked on by the other cats, who pushed the boundaries of the cats around them, who would randomly pick fights just to lose consistently, who would growl at the other cats and get into spats only to run away or be chastised; gender had nothing to do with which cats tended to fall into which role.

the cats i had that tended to be skittish or aggressive or active or affectionate…gender had no bearing on any of that. i always felt so jealous of that. i wanted to be a cat (especially in childhood lol) because i wanted to live in a world that had a dynamic like that. a world where gender didn’t matter, where no one really had any concept of gender and it really didn’t matter. no cat cared about whether the other was male or female and it didn’t change how they interacted. (unless it was something like intact male vs neutered male or female cat in heat and male cat)

when i finally heard the term non binary, that it was something that even existed, i knew instantly that it sounded like me. i was scared at first, went through a lot of self doubt and questioning myself, calling myself stupid for considering it. but then i started to understand what it really meant.

a gender identity that is neither male or female. a gender identity where the concept of gender simply didn’t apply. an identity where you didn’t have to pick one or the other or lean into one or the other. and once i finally let myself accept that identity i finally felt right. i didn’t have to pretend to care or go out of my way to be feminine or masculine. i didn’t have to care about being a lady or a woman or lean into being a man or wanting to present as masculine or any of that. i didn’t have to be what i was “supposed to be.” i didn’t have to be a tomboy or a girl that was proud to have masculine interests and still be as much of a woman as a feminine girly type of woman. i didn’t have to be a man at my core, being proud to have feminine interests while defining myself as just as much of a man as a more masculine man.

none of those felt right or felt like me or who i was. knowing that i didn’t have to force myself to be any gender or present/lean into any feminine or masculine ideal was freeing to me. that i could like any of the things i wanted without really thinking about whether they were feminine or masculine was so relieving. i could decide it didn’t matter to me. i could be someone who was neither or someone who none of those ideas applied to.

though i still suffer from low self esteem issues and mental health issues, i finally don’t hate myself for not being able to choose one identity or the other. i finally understand why i am the way that i am and why i felt so wrong and inadequate and unable to be the woman or man i was supposed to want to be.

in understanding that i didn’t have to be either if i didn’t want to, i was finally able to accept the person i’ve always been. and i’m finally able to accept that that person exists, even if people don’t understand or are disgusted by them or make fun of them. even though it’s supposed to be one or the other. i don’t have to choose. i don’t have to pick the option my body is biologically defined as.

#nonbinary #NB #enby #long post #honestly this is the first time i’ve been able to sit down and put my thoughts and feelings into actual words #i’m sure no one will read this #but i wanted to write it because i’m not allowed to talk about it #until i am able to defend or explain it in a way that can be understood by someone who hasn’t experienced it #or met someone who was similar or perhaps even the same way #NOT ALL NONBINARY PEOPLE ARE THE SAME THOUGH!!!#this is just what it means to me #and my experience as a transgender person #especially as a transgender person who didn’t feel dysphoria towards their own body #to me it’s always just been a body and i never really hated it for what it looked like #i didn’t like my body for what it was perceived as #to me though biologically my body is considered female #i never really saw it that way if that makes sense #the reason i struggle with it is because it’s the reason i can’t be seen or identified as anything but a woman by other people #i hate that this body is considered female #i hate that this body means people will always call me a woman and see me as one #but the body itself has never been the issue i don’t experience dysphoria because i want it to look different #how it looks really doesn’t mean all that much to me #other than being overweight tbh #men can have breasts or even vaginas and still be men #and women can have short hair or not have breasts or even have ducks #and still be women #in that same way i can still have this body but be nonbinarh #trans #transgender #lgbtq+

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itspileofgoodthings · 1 year

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Lavender Haze is full of such palpable hurt that makes such sense now

#why would you be mad at the tabloids in this fresh way unless it was because they kept writing the next piece of your love story #that you couldn’t will into existence all on your own #it’s not like she hasn’t processed and come to terms with her own level of fame and scrutiny #and I know the tabloids/media do that with everyone but there is always a slightly sharper clarity and universality to Taylor’s story #that brings our fundamental truths #and the whole world was like ‘okay but where is the wedding’#my mom listening to invisible string looking me dead in the eye and saying ‘she needs to be married’#and it’s like Maria how do you know it wasn’t Taylor who didn’t want to #and I don’t literally know that of course. and yet don’t I?? Don’t we???????#anyway thanks for listening because I don’t want to talk about it but I want to talk about it and this place allows me to do both #*brings out fundamental truths #anyway of course it’s more complicated than this and more private but also …. it’s probably not #again Taylor’s essence history and ongoing story forces us all to go down to the root of things and see how simple it all is #and this is no exception #okay now I’m done (for now)

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rosesradio · 1 year

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#actually i am really sick of my family for making me feel like ‘being liberal’ Or Whatever is my only personal trait #because like i used to voice opinions on things until they made me feel bad/crazy for it #but now when they whip out the most batshit insane take on something & i’m just like ‘um i dunno…but to each their own’#& they still act like i’m crazy i’m so 💀#like my only cousin who’s into p/j/o was talking about how the new book (& while he ‘doesn’t care’ that Nico’s gay it—#‘came out of nowhere’ 🙄) the new book is written by two authors—one of them being a gay man because Richard wanted the input—#because he didn’t feel qualified to write it as a straight man or something idk #but my cousin. said. that if a straight man ‘can’t’ write a gay story then a woman can’t write a man’s story & vice versa #which. oh my god no #for one thing i do think anyone can write any story even/especially if it’s out of their depth but they should absolutely reach out—#if they want firsthand accounts of experiences like what it’s like to be gay etc #but also. of course a woman can write a man & vice versa what kind of take even is that? like yeah some people do it really weird—#(‘she boobed breastily down the stairs’)#but that doesn’t mean people shouldn’t be allowed if anything people should learn about the experiences of others #in general his takes of ‘i don’t Care i just wish it wasn’t Every Character that’s not how it Used To Be’#like 1.) if richard wrote lgbtq/poc main characters in 2005 he probably wouldn’t have sold many books #and 2.) it’s Greek mythology. you get what you sign up for #anyways yeah i’m really quiet at family functions but even when i just quietly disagree i’m made to feel really bad about it #& the next function is literally my grad party like next week ://#but after that there shouldn’t be anything for a while #rose.txt #tw vent

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arthur-r · 2 months

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actually so relieved to run into this weird vent art from like a week before my partner broke up with me and remember how i was actually profoundly unhappy when we were together. like i literally would have broken up with him within the next couple weeks probably. all it would have changed if he hadn’t broke up with me would be that a valentine’s day together would be a lasting painful memory. whereas our relationship is nearly managing to comfortably fade into background noise.

#this art is weird which is why i never posted it shdhdf but i figure it goes along with self-actualization/the silly stupid angel song #i remember the same time i drew this i had drawn a monster based off my now-ex (it’s in a notebook somewhere)#and i just kept drawing and giving it more evil attributes and thinking why am i doing this it’s supposed to be my partner #but like. my subconscious fucking knew. he was basically a demon feeding on my life force #anyway i’m a fan of the bloody keyhole in my chest cause that’s so real #i love when i write or draw something and then like. months later i finally get to the realization that i subconsciously clearly highlighte #like yeah he’s demanding symmetry from me (golden ratio) and fucking clawing to get to my secrets (keyhole) and expecting me to be this #idealized and appealing figure but also refusing to give me any actual affection in response like i’m just a fucking statue to stare at #and then idk i’m bleeding golden blood because WHY NOT shdhdf maybe there’s symbolism i figure out later but i think that part’s just rad #oh and of course a halo like from THAT ONE GUY WHAT IS HIS NAME paintings #i want to say like giorgio but that’s not right. WHO IS THE GUY WHO PAINTS THE GOLD HALOS #GIOTTO i looked it up it’s my best friend giotto!!!! i can’t believe i turned my back on him…. forgot his name…. anyway i love his halos #and i was halfheartedly emulating that while i was drawing shdhdf. so anyway that’s the story of this whole thing #but no it’s so good to notice that actually i was discontented and needed to break out of the pattern. cause like i don’t think i fully #understood that i’m ALLOWED to end something i’m not happy with. so even though i deserved to i wouldn’t have done it. so it’s a lesson now #i’m aware that it’s something i’m able to do and something that i should have done. and i’ll do it earlier next time. ANYWAY sorry for this #ex talk #vent cw #i’m so normal i promise. i’m actually getting really normal about it genuinely though. basically fine kinda sorta almost. shdhdhdf #anyway i hope everybody is doing well. sorry for just throwing stuff around every once in a while and being otherwise absent #lmk if you need anything anytime!!!! love and light /gen #me. my post. mine.#delete later #ask to tag

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raeofgayshine · 9 months

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Absolutely so silly the little things that will get to me, like having my very first team names with my fellow mods is making me fucking cry (/pos) because like

Damn, I belong here? I’m part of a team and I’m appreciated and people like me and want me to be here? I was picked for this team!! And the names!! have relevant meaning to me because they know me and I just

I’m really not used to having places I belong or people who want me around, a little group of my own. And maybe it’s just hitting extra hard because of recent conversations about being aro and not being meant to have anyone you care about stick around

But it makes me so happy and feel so appreciated that these names just happened, just for funsies, wasn’t even trying.

The Void has always been a good place for me. But this makes it feel a little more like a home.

#ravenpuff rambles #I don’t know maybe it’s just because #this is the one space and these are the one set of people I have ever existed around that I don’t feel the need to put on some kind of mask #the void was formed out of some fucked up shit and we trauma bonded first over that #and over the years Trauma bonded over a lot more #including aromanticism and asexuality and the crushing reality of knowing everyone is going to leave at some point #I don’t talk about my aro trauma with people. my abandonment issues. sometimes o bring it up in writing but it feels wrong #to dump it on people who can’t really help it #especially when I’ve never felt close enough to do that #but then someone else brings up their trauma and holy shit I have the same feelings #and there’s a moment of connection and going ‘oh. I’m not alone’#and now o have a space I feel like I’m allowed to exist in #and today #today I fucking got confirmation they want me there too because of silly team names #and how excited my other mod was about them #no one’s ever wanted me on their team #I’ve never been chosen first #and I will never be someone’s first choice in general because that’s just how the world works #but in this single moment I was chosen.#and now I have two team names with two cool people who I work alongside to make a community and channel I love better #also okay so there’s three of us #and right now we’ve come up with two team names for combos of two and I was in both of them #me. I was first. holy shit #anyways I’m going to cry and try to sleep and not dwell on how much I’m effected by this

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sttoru · 7 days

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‘and if i only could, i’d make a deal with god, and i’d get him to swap our places. .’ — kate bush

𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x wife!reader. fluff to angst (no comfort). spoilers chapter 261. reader’s pregnant. major character death. mentions of blood, death. nicknames ‘pretty, sweets’. not proofread bcs i couldn't through the tears. i cried nine times writing this so.. good luck! wc: 3.6k

“he’s kicking again,” satoru chuckles excitedly. he’s been clinging onto you ever since you got back from your doctor’s appointment. your baby boy is growing up healthy and there don’t seem to be any complications.

you smile and rest back against the velvety pillows. you’re enjoying the affection you’re receiving, the kisses and nuzzles against your swollen tummy makes every bit of suffering worth it. your husband is going to be an amazing dad, that you can tell.

“hey, little guy—don’t give ya mommy a tough time,” satoru huffs and gently taps the side of your stomach that was last kicked by the unborn baby, “that’s my wife, y’know?” you giggle at the scene in front of you and close your eyes, relaxing your body.

a comfortable silence hangs in the room. satoru’s warm hands cupping and rubbing your round stomach add to the tranquil atmosphere. the weight of your husband’s head presses onto the front of your plump belly—ear pressed against the stretched skin as if expecting to hear your baby boy talk.

after a while, you open your eyes. you hear a sniff and then the usual silence follows. you look down at satoru settled between your legs, hugging your waist and resting his cheek on your tummy. he’s awfully quiet and you’re unable to see his eyes because of his bangs.

“toru, everything okay?” you carefully ask. your voice comforts him for the next couple seconds, before his muscles tense up once more. satoru tries his best to seem unaffected by the many thoughts scurrying through his head.

“mhm,” your husband nods and forces a small smile. though, he can’t keep the facade up any longer. the longer you’re pregnant, the more worried he gets about a certain something; something that’s been bothering him ever since.

it’s the reason why he doubted even having kids in the first place.

“i—well. i don’t know, sweets,” satoru sighs. a deep sigh that shatters the mask he’s had on for so long. his brows furrow and his eyes dart from one place to the other. his fingers stop their movements on your stomach. they curl around the material of your shirt instead; showing a clear sense of vulnerability.

satoru seems. . . afraid, yet also angry. perhaps at himself, perhaps at the world. you don’t utter a single word. if there’s anything you want, it’s for your husband to speak about his inner turmoil freely. you’re the only person who he can have such emotional conversations with—the only person he can be himself with.

the real gojo satoru.

not the strongest.

that’s why you’re not surprised when satoru opens his mouth to confess the inevitable to you. “i’m scared,” his voice cracks. it’s a faint change in tone, but it is noticeable to you. you’ve been his lover for long enough to notice every minuscule thing.

the white-haired man lets out another sigh. you brush his soft bangs out of his eyes and instantly notice the sudden weariness in them. normally, those beautiful blue eyes shine brightly, yet that light has now dimmed.

you pat his head and satoru immediately leans into your touch. you allow him to process his own emotions and words before speaking up.

“scared?” you ask quietly and carefully, giving your husband space to explain.

satoru nods. there are a thousand thoughts running through his mind. all those thoughts he’s tried to suppress since the day you’ve announced your pregnancy. maybe even before that—at the day of your wedding.

he’s sat down with you a few months into the marriage, to have the talk about kids. he seemed to be delighted to have children with you, however there have always been some dark and hidden thoughts lingering in the back of his mind.

the sorcerer has chosen to ignore them for the longest time. he’s been trying to convince himself that he has nothing to worry about. you’re going to be fantastic parents and your children are going to be extremely loved.

the day you surprised him with your pregnancy, was like a dream. satoru cried - which he rarely does - so it was an emotional night for both of you. neither of you could wait to meet your child—happy with whatever gender.

despite all of the optimism and enthusiasm, satoru’s struggles with his inner thoughts have not yet ended. he doesn’t want to bother you with it. you seem so content and he does not want to ruin that at all.

but even the strongest without limits has to reach a breaking point.

“yeah,” satoru speaks up, his voice hoarse. he kisses your belly button, hoping his child doesn’t pick up on his distress somehow. your husband closes his eyes as he places his forehead against your tummy, praying that the heavens above hear his pleas, “i don’t want our kid to inherit my cursed techniques. at all.”

your hand doesn’t stop stroking satoru’s hair. you don’t flinch at his words, nor do you immediately discard his worries. in all honestly, you’ve shared the same feelings before getting pregnant.

you know how satoru’s treated by the jujutsu society. it’s dehumanising how he’s seen as a weapon of some sorts. a weapon that could solve all problems—one that cannot rest until its duty is done.

you despise it. you’ve told satoru about your hatred for the toxic society, even going as far as asking him to move to a different country without telling anyone. you’re sick and tired. you can’t recall the amount of times that you’ve cried alone, in the bathroom, after you’ve seen the state your lover comes back home in.

the white-haired man always seems so tired. his eyes and head hurt because of them overusing his cursed techniques. there are even days where satoru doesn’t put his blindfold or sunglasses off at home.

and when you try to talk to him about it, satoru simply assures you that ‘he’ll be fine’. you believe him in the moment, but you don’t know for how long you’ll be able to keep that trust.

you’re letting him break, slowly yet surely, right in front of you. he’s working himself to his demise. it’s nothing out of the ordinary to not want the same for your child.

though, you’re sure that it’ll be fine even if your baby boy inherits satoru’s techniques. that’s because you two are going to protect him with all you have. no one is going to treat your child like a weapon—not while the both of you are still alive.

“i don’t want our child to take over the burden i carry,” satoru continues. his brows are furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. he’s already thinking about all the possibilities that can follow with the birth of your son.

he can hide his child from the world, but wouldn’t that be too restrictive? he can keep an eye on him every second of the day, but wouldn’t that be overprotective?

you notice satoru’s internal state of panic increasing, so you quickly cup his face. you lean down and press a firm kiss against his lips, to which he instantly responds. his breath hitches and he sits up on the mattress, deepening the kiss as his hands hold you by the back of your head.

he needs this—you—more than anything else in the world. if it wasn’t for you, he’d have lost his sanity long ago.

you pull back after a good minute and pant. you chuckle as you notice the slight pout on satoru’s lips. he never seems satisfied with just one kiss, which is adorable. you coo and pepper his face with small pecks, “aww.”

it’s comforting to the sorcerer. he closes his eyes and his mouth forms a small smile. you’re doing an amazing job at calming him down. satoru’s muscles relax and he finds himself nestled between your legs soon enough.

you realise that he’s still somewhat afraid for the future of his child by the way he’s playing with your shirt. his head lays on your chest and his long fingers trace shapes on your exposed skin.

“i know, honey, i know,” you murmur against the top of his head. you massage satoru’s scalp gently, nearly making him purr because of how incredible that feels. you stare at the ceiling and continue your little talk.

“i’ve thought about all of it too,” your fingers find his undercut, playing with the little hairs. all you can hope for is that your partner stresses less about the outcome of your pregnancy.

if you can do one thing for him, it’d be that. reassuring him that you’ll both do your best for your child will surely put him at ease. your husband has enough to worry about anyway.

you want to share that burden. you don’t want him to carry the world on his shoulders alone—he’s got you for that now.

“but i think that our son will be fine. why? because he’s got you,” you smile and kiss satoru’s forehead. it’s his favorite type of kiss and it works wonders when you comfort him. his ocean eyes regain their sparkle, both because of your unconditional love and trust in his parenting skills, “our boy will grow up fine and protected because he’s got you as his amazing dad, yeah?”

satoru takes some time to let your words sink in. your trust in him is a beautiful thing. of course, he’ll protect his kid no matter what. both you and his kid will be safe for as long as he’s alive. you’re going to be a happy family—one that he’s always dreamed of having.

he isn’t going to raise his child to be the strongest. he isn’t going to raise his child as an heir to the throne. he isn’t going to raise his child as his legacy. he isn’t going to raise his child as a tool.

his son will have a normal childhood and he will guarantee that. satoru will give his kid what he didn’t have as a child himself;

unconditional love and support for whatever his son wishes to become.

satoru raises his head and leans in to kiss you, hugging you to himself. he adores you so much, you’re all he needs to feel like he can do anything and everything all at once.

carrying the world on his shoulders so you can live peacefully in it is all satoru does it for.

“heh, damn right. i’ll be the best husband and dad ever.”

. . .

but in the end, your dreams are just dreams, right?

an escape from reality, that’s all dreams really are. all those times you’ve sat together to pick the furniture you want to place in the nursery, to paint the room a baby blue, to buy clothes and toys, diapers and carriers, to giggle about the places you would love to visit as a family, to think about possible baby names, to joke about whether your son will say ‘dada’ or ‘mama’ first — all of it were naive, hopeful dreams.

perhaps you were too caught up in them to realise that reality will hit when least expected.

satoru and you have lived in your own bubble—your own little fantasy world where tragic fates does not exist. no one in this planet would suffer if life worked that way.

no one on this planet would have to pick up the phone and have their world shatter, their dream bubble pop. to have all hope lost in the span of a second.

grief is a scary thing. it’s devastating and it will consume you whole. you don’t realise that until you experience it firsthand. losing someone close to you will break you in half. it’s a punch to the gut.

especially if it’s your husband. someone you considered your partner—who’s promised you to be together forever. maybe those promises were also a part of your fantasy.

maybe they were also but a beautiful lie.

your footsteps feel heavy. you don’t have any energy left in you. every drop has been drained from you the moment you heard the news over the phone. your eyes and head hurt, both feeling like they’re going to burst. you don’t want to accept any of this.

the faces of the people around you are a blur. they’re all holding their head low, their hands gathered in front of them to show respect. no one speaks—all the room is filled with are your sobs. the loud cries you let out in hopes that they wake you up from this absolute nightmare.

you drag your feet to the examination table in the middle of the room. tears continue to blur your vision, though surely, you can confirm the outline of the body laying underneath the blanket.

how could you not recognise the person you thought you’d spend eternity with?

it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. . .

“satoru.” your voice is barely audible. your hands are shaking and your face is stained with endless streams of tears. you stand at the side of the table and you instantly curl your fingers around the edge.

seeing that face from up close hits different. usually, it’d have your stomach fill with a feeling of delight, yet now all you feel when looking at it is unimaginable dread.

the blood on the corners of his mouth. the blanket that’s hiding whatever is left of him from below the waist. the dull eyes that once stared at you with hope and love. those dried lips that normally shone with a layer of gloss.

god, it’s awful. you don’t want this to be true. you’re still waiting to be woken up by your husband. so he can hold you close and hug you, whisper sweet nothings and reassure you that he’d never leave you alone in a savage world like this.

your shaky fingers reach out to his right hand. his skin feels cold and his hand doesn’t hold yours back. your breath hitches and you let out a long, devastating cry. it sounds like a scream for help as your body crumbles—falling to your knees whilst you tightly grip your lover’s limp hand.

“no, god no, please!” you cover your mouth with your free hand, nearly hyperventilating from pure pain. you feel like your heart is going to give up on you. it’s breaking into a million pieces, as does your future. you can’t live without him—you can't do it.

satoru is the sole reason you’ve held out for so long. you were each other’s support system. you can’t do any of this on your own. you can’t breathe properly—your body doesn’t let you.

not until you feel a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. you can guess that it’s shoko, but you’re too distraught to even pay attention to her. you lift yourself up by holding onto the edge of the table, your legs shaking. you sniffle and sob uncontrollably.

you reach out to touch satoru’s lifeless face, as gentle as you always do. you flinch when you feel just how cold his body is—the usual warmth that would comfort you gone, nowhere to be found. you don’t get a reaction from him when you touch his cheeks.

it only serves to remind you of the tragic events that unveiled. you’re still in denial, but the moment feels real. your brain is slowly yet surely processing the information. though, you don’t want it to. you want to live in a world where you grow old with your husband.

where your child is going to grow up with a father figure at home.

“satoru, come back to me.. to us, please,” you beg and beg, hoping he smiles and sits up, telling you that it’s just one of his silly pranks again. when none of that happens, you feel yourself become more hopeless. you hunch over him and cup his face. the same face that would light up whenever you’d touch it.

you hiccup and wail, unable to breathe. you rub his cheekbones with your thumbs, settling your forehead against his. your tears fall underneath his eyes and slide down his temples, making it seem like he’s crying with you.

you wait for satoru to respond, but he doesn’t. there’s an eerie silence on his part and you’re panicking. you need him to comfort you, but he isn’t there to do that anymore. you’re left alone, all alone.

“i can’t do this without you—we can’t do this without you,” you stammer between sobs. you can’t go through life, knowing satoru isn’t going to be there for you. he isn’t going to come home anymore. he isn’t going to cuddle you to sleep anymore. he isn’t going to experience what it’s like to have a family of his own. he isn't going to be able to hold his child and to play with him.

you blame life for being unfair—always taking away the people who don’t deserve it. satoru hasn’t done anything to deserve this. he just.. existed. his fate of becoming the strongest, decided at his birth, is what has lead to his death.

you continue to sob to yourself. you refuse to acknowledge anything or anyone else in the room. you’re solely focused on your husband. or rather, what’s left of him.

remembering how excited satoru was to spend the rest of his life with you and your future children pains you all the more. he’s been stripped from a normal life. you’ve tried your hardest to give him that said normal life, yet your hopeful dreams have gotten you nowhere.

you wipe your tears away for the first time in a while. your grief is making you delusional—disoriented to the point you try to make yourself feel better. you force a smile and hold tightly onto satoru’s limp hand, trying to speak through your quiet sniffles.

“o-our boy is gonna be born soon,” you chuckle bitterly and place satoru’s hand on your belly. it’s gotten bigger over the months and you’re already eight months along. he was so close to meeting your child—so close. yet his tragic destiny did not allow him to.

you hope he’s been happy with you for as long as he lived. you hope you’ve somewhat relieved him from his misery for as long as he lived. that burden he carried, the world he carried on his shoulders. . . it doesn’t seem to want to detach from him. even after death.

you press a deep kiss against his forehead. satoru’s favorite spot to be kissed at, you remember. you wish he feels it in the afterlife; wherever he may he. as long as he’s in a better place now, one that treats him well. this current world has been too cruel on him. it doesn’t deserve to home someone like your husband.

“i wish you were here to see your son. to see our baby grow up, you'd be so proud, honey,” you kiss satoru’s forehead again. it’s all you can do stop yourself from losing it completely. you know satoru would tell you to be strong, for his sake. for your unborn son.

“i’m going to tell him all about you, ‘kay? i'm going to tell him about how awesome his dad was,” your voice breaks for the nth time. you’re still in the first stage of grief, though you try to seem strong in case satoru is watching from somewhere.

that’s what he did when he was the one going through a tough time. he’d act brave and fine, putting on a mask to make you worry less, telling you all kinds of reassuring words while he was suffering internally.

now it’s your turn to safely send his soul off to the afterlife. to let satoru pass away in peace, with him knowing that you’re going to live on for him and for your child. it’s the least you can do at the moment.

you put on a brave face, staring into his lifeless eyes, smiling through the unbearable pain. you’re sure he’s still listening to you from somewhere. satoru’s always told you that your voice is soothing, so you do your best to calm his soul and reassure him that it’s fine for him to rest.

“i’ll do my best to raise him, yeah? so you.. you just rest.”

rest was a foreign word to the sorcerer. this world didn’t give him an ounce of peace. he’d either be overworked by his family or the jujutsu society, and if it isn’t work, his inherited techniques were slowly killing his brain and body.

you’re praying that satoru has none of that in the afterlife. you’re praying that he can live a normal life, eternally. so that when you join him one day, you both won’t have to suffer nor share the burden. you can live out your dreams without anyone interrupting.

not even fate.

“you deserve to rest. you really do,” you sigh.

soon enough, you feel yourself crumble again. you burst out in tears once you realise that he’s actually never coming back to you in this life. you bury your face in the crook of his neck and sob loudly, not holding back your emotions anymore. you just can’t—you can’t act brave when your second half has been taken away from you so suddenly.

you hope that you succeeded into sending him off without any worries. you can’t help but continue rambling to yourself, “i’m going to miss you s’much. oh, my baby.”

you lift your head back and stare into satoru’s eyes once more. did he think about you when he was on his deathbed? did he see his life flash before his eyes, including his many memories with you? did he see what could have been?

it’s unfair.

you give him one last bright smile and gently close his eyelids for him, hoping his lost soul saw your face before you did so. with one last kiss on his lips, you whisper your final words;

“please wait for me on the other side, my love.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst

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fangirl-dot-com · 12 days

Text

🧠Fake Amnesia

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fan!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: There was a saying that if you knew a celebrity existed, your chances of meeting them out and about decreased significantly. Is it true? No clue. But, you weren't about to let that stop you from finding Lando Norris in Imola.

*I am so so sorry for the very late and delayed chapter. I hope you all like it! I switched out this one to write it before the next as "Love Triangle" was supposed to come out first, but we've had a lot of Lestappen for now! But here we go!"

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Were you a bit stupid?

Yes. Yes you were. Did you more money than your budget allowed just to get to Imola a few days early to possibly not even find Lando? You didn’t want to talk about it.

But right now as you perused through the local shopping area, you didn’t take the time to really dwell on your past choices. Only finding Lando could save you now. Which that seemed like a faraway dream.

Whatever that one reddit post said about having a higher chance of meeting a celebrity if you didn’t know them was absolute bullshit. You couldn’t go back in time to stop yourself from liking a thirst trap of Lando on TikTok. And now because of that, your chances of meeting the British driver seriously decreased.

How on earth were you supposed to find one of the most popular men alive, on a race weekend, where everyone was already looking to spot the driver in a more relaxed setting? You had no clue. But the shopping center felt like a good idea.

You had been drawn in by one of the jewelry sections, eyes glazing over the number of zeros that followed every first number. Your heart winced at the thought of even buying one. To be honest, you didn’t even know how you got into this mall in the first place. Everyone around you was dressed in the highest European fashion.

Your outfit wasn’t terrible per say, but it didn’t reflect the Italian area either. You were wearing some cream baggy linen pants that matched the light orange top that you had thrown on after scrambling to find a shirt. You didn’t really know exactly what shirt you were wearing, except that it was comfortable and went well with the pants. The giant number 4 on the back went completely unnoticed. Sandals adorned your feet and sunglass sat as though a crown on your head. Your cross-body bag dangled a bit against your side.

You had just cringed once again at a price tag when your eyes landed on some brown curly hair. Your eyes followed the coils down to the face and you wanted to scream (but held it in because you were not about to get kicked out).

There was no way that Lando Norris was standing about 10 feet away from you.

There was no way.

Except your hands automatically opened your phone and the twitter app popped up. You were too busy looking down at your phone, fingers moving at the speed of light, to notice that some hazel eyes had landed on your figure.

Lando, on the other hand, wanted to sigh. Could he go one day without having to get stopped by fans? The giant 4 on your shirt seemed to mock him. Internally, he was wishing that the girl was a Max or Charles fan.

But, he was going to be the bigger person and approach the nice looking girl before she could bring more attention to him. He decreased the space between them and tapped her shoulder, getting her attention.

You were not expecting a tap on the shoulder. And you were definitely not expecting that tap to come from Lando Norris’s finger.

“Can I sign something for you?” he asked. The sound of his voice must have put some type of spell on you since you felt as though you couldn’t speak.

Lando huffed. “Please? I don’t need other people finding out that I’m here and then I’ll have to leave.”

You blinked twice at him before you finally found your voice. “I’m sorry. Who are you exactly?”

Stupid reddit post.

The McLaren driver wanted to smack himself. Were you a fan? Or maybe you were wearing a papaya colored shirt that supported another person, who happened to have the same number? Or maybe if was your friend’s shirt? Or one you thrifted?

He winced. “I am so sorry. I thought. . . ”

You shifted on your feet, brain trying to come up with an idea for what happens next. You were standing in front of thee Lando Norris. You couldn’t miss this opportunity.

Lando watched your eyes widen and he wanted to hide. Maybe you were just shocked that it was him?

Your eyes then squinted. “You look really familiar. Oh, I know where you’re from.”

The Briton wanted to run and hide. This was it, you were going to start squealing, and then other people will look that way, see Lando, cause a giant crowd, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the rest of the weekend.

He was doomed.

“You’re that actor right? From Spiderman.”

This time, Lando blinked while staying silent.

“No, I believe that’s Tom Holland.”

“Oh.”

Now it was getting awkward with the two of you just looking at each other. Which, this gave you the perfect opportunity to memorize the different shades of blue, green, and brown in his eyes. You looked to the side and chewed on you bottom lip.

Lando looked stuck.

“I am so sorry for interrupting your shopping,” he started out.

You waved your hands, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s fine. Wasn’t like I could buy anything here. Way too many zeros for my liking.”

Lando giggled at that and you internally melted.

Time to add “got Lando Norris to giggle like a schoolgirl” on your resume.

“Yeah. Bit too posh for me as well.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You look like you fit in a bit more than I do.”

He rolled his eyes before huffing. “I’d rather spend time playing video games at my house instead.”

Now this is what you could get behind. When you first started following Lando, gaming started to interest you. Because of him, you were able to meet a bunch of friends through gaming. Your notifications were specifically set up to let you know when Lando was streaming.

Your eyes lit up with some excitement, which Lando thought was adorable.

“I like to game too! It’s fun playing weird simulator games. Me and my friends tried this goat game one time and we couldn’t stop laughing.”

This time, Lando’s eyes sparkled.

“I’ve played goat simulator too with my friends! Charles . . .” he caught himself, not wanting to give out more names. “Uh my friends Carl, Alec, and Jord really liked it during the pandemic. And then we got Dax in on it too.”

You wanted to absolutely start laughing, since you actually watched that stream live back in 2020. The cute names he gave to Charles, Alex, George, and Max were adorable. Your friends, although knowing you were watching the stream, had sent you the link and asked if you’d want to play the same simulator. Let’s just say, your laugh rivaled teapot-Charles.

“They sound like fun,” you said, a warm tone in your voice that had Lando melting like chocolate under a hot summer’s sun.

There was a bit of silence before Lando spoke up again. “Do you maybe, this sounds so weird, but there’s a game store farther down, would you want to join me?”

There was no way in hell that you’d tell him no.

You smiled up at him. “Sure! Lead the way! By the way, I’m Y/n.”

Lando went to say something but stopped. You could tell he almost said his name, and you’d bet money on the name that was about to come out of his mouth.

“I’m Bob.”

Bingo.

You snorted. “You don’t look like a Bob. But what would I know?”

The two of you laughed as you started walking farther into the shopping center. You exchanged laughs here and there, sharing stories about your lives with Lando being very vague about his day job.

“I work as an Uber driver,” he had said after you confessed that you were now working as a part-time gamer and then part-time relator. The work was hard, but that job allowed you to spend your hard-earned money on fun things like: coming to Imola early to try to find Lando.

Low-and-behold, you did.

Spending the afternoon with him felt so comfortable, as if you had known each other your entire lives. And Lando, to his surprise, felt the same. After the gaming store, he even invited you to lunch.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you told him, but kept stride alongside him as he walked toward the small restaurants.

He shrugged. “I know. But I like spending time with you.”

A deep blush formed on your face as you kept walking. The bright red caused Lando to smirk just a bit.

As you ate and made conversation, you suddenly felt the urge to use the bathroom. You quickly excused yourself and left, leaving Lando at the table along.

He hadn’t meant to look, but your phone kept going off and his eyes just barely looked at your screen. They widened with he noticed his exact points in the season along with McLaren’s and the race schedule. And the picture of him from Miami after his first win as your lockscreen.

The Box-Box app.

He pursed his lips for a moment, briefly feeling played. But as he sat and thought about the past few hours that he spent with you, he felt content. At any point, you could have screamed his name, asked for a picture, and ruin his shopping trip. You could have tweeted his location and hordes of people would have shown up.

But you didn’t.

The McLaren driver was so caught up in his head that he didn’t heard you coming. Thankfully, your screen had gone dark, still giving the effect that you “didn’t know” who he really way.

“Everything ok Bob?” you asked as you sat back down, stealing one of his French fries from his tray.

Lando shook his head, ridding the “betrayal” from his thoughts.

“Just perfect. Trying to figure out who might win the Formula 1 race this weekend.”

He wanted to smirk at you froze for just a second before leaning back just a bit, arms crossed over your chest.

“What is that? Some type of NASCAR thing?”

Oh, so you knew how to play.

Luckily for Lando, so did he.

“It’s a bit different,” he said as he took a sip of his drink.

You were internally freaking out.

Did he know? If he knew then he might say something. And then he’ll call his security team and get you a ban from the paddock. And you might even go to jail for stalking. Could you even go to Italian jail for that? You didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

However, Lando kept silent as the two of you finished your lunches. Easy conversation did flow once again when you steered it back to gaming. You had a giant smile as the two of you walked out of the shopping area.

However, your heart dropped when you realized that the time with the Briton was coming to a quick end. Lando was feeling the same.

You let out a sigh as you turned to look him in the eyes. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun! Like I said, you didn’t have to.”

Lando scoffed. “Of course I did. I interrupted your shopping. It was the least I could do.”

There was a lingering silence before you broke it.

“I guess this is the end then Bob.” You held out a hand for him to shake, but he rolled his eyes and brought you into a hug. You parted after a bit and started to walk toward the little Fiat you had rented for the weekend.

Lando felt torn until he realized he could definitely see you again.

“Y/n! Wait!”

You turned around to see Lando running up to you, phone out.

“Can I have your number?”

Yep, this is how you were going to die. Y/n L/n found dead in a parking lot after Lando Norris asked for her number. What an amazing way to go out in the end.

You didn’t say anything, but quickly opened your phone and handed it to him, new contact ready to be filled out. The driver was smirking to himself as he filled out his information. He handed your phone back to you, only to lean down and kiss your cheek.

The familiar bright red once again filled them in as he leaned back.

“I had a lot of fun today. Maybe I’ll see you soon?” he quietly said as he started to walk away.

“Maybe,” you said back, biting your bottom lip after.

Lando swore that if the two of you weren’t in the parking lot, he’d bite it for you.

When he was a bit away, he turned back and waved at you, happy to see that you were still staring at him. But who wouldn’t stare at Lando Norris though. Definitely not you, you could stare all day long if you could.

“Bye Y/n!”

“Bye Lando!”

Your hands clapped over your mouth as you watched him lean back in a full laugh. You even had him hunching over in a fit of giggles. You still watched as his shoulders shake as he got into what looked to be an Uber.

Your phone buzzed, causing you to look down at it. There was an email and a text message. One from McLaren and one from “Lando 🧡”

“Maybe next time I can sign your shirt. I think it’s cute that you follow my points :)”

You turned around quickly, trying to see the back of your shirt in the reflection of your rental car. There it was, in all it’s glory.

The giant-ass “4.”

“Shit.”

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_y/n kinda confused about 20 guys driving around in circles. someone know what this is called?

also ran into this really cute guy. says he drives for a living. didn't know uber drivers could be hot

liked by friend1, bestie, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,204 others

friend1 ayo is that the guy that you will not shut up about?

landonorris awww you don't shut up about me??

y/n_l/n STOP EXPOSING ME

bestie ok I see the appeal, can you ask someone for that brunet in the red's number??

maxverstappen1 🤺🤺🤺

y/n_l/n i think he's taken

charles_leclerc I am??

maxverstappen1 ☹️

charles_leclerc I AM TAKEN

friend2 so luckyyyyyyy

friend4 glad you had fun!

oscarpiastri I think it's called Formula 1

y/n_l/n finally someone who knows something @.landonorris you've been replaced

landonorris osc, we've talked about this

fan1 what the heck is going on

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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psychedelic-ink · 9 months

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'𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐰.

pairing: contractor!joel miller x f!reader

genre: no outbreak au, modern au, explicit smut, minors dni

word count: 3k

summary: joel is used to asshole clients, and when one of them calls him an old man and basically demands him to finish his girlfriend's kitchen in time, he expects you to be the same. But you're the opposite. when he learns how you've been treated, he comes up with a plan to get back at your boyfriend.

warnings: hints of reader being in a toxic relationship, age gap, daddy kink, piv, dirty talk , revenge sex and filming it, infidelity (reader cheating on her bf), praise kink

a/n: This was completely spontaneous, normally I was going to finish one of the haunted hoedown entries but I saw a ✨ s p i c y ✨ video and instantly got up to write this because that video was something else I tell you. Sucks that they don't credit those things on twitter so I can find more of the guy he was also older hence the age gap fgbgfbf

thank you to @johnwatsn for beta'ing this (and sorry for all the typos lmaodfbfg) and thank you to @pedrorascal for the stunning gif 💜

“I’m not paying extra if you do overtime, old man. You said a week and you’ll finish in a week. I don’t care if your knees hurt or you have a heart attack in the middle of hammering a nail—you finish my girlfriend’s kitchen in time. Got it?”

Joel had a lot of unpleasant customers. John was just one of many but his comment had stuck with him. And it wasn’t the rude comments or the tone that basically told Joel that John thought of him as dog shit; no, it was none of that. It was the old man that had bugged him. The hissed comment of his age slithering under his skin and agitating his body.

Joel knew that it only bothered him because it was true. He was an old man. His daughter in her last year of college, doing her absolute best and growing while he was getting old. His skin creasing at the eyes every time he laughed and his hair more salt than pepper.

The thoughts continuing to swirl in his head, with a sigh, he knocks on the door of John’s girlfriend, expecting a woman as equally as unpleasant and demanding.

You’re far from what he expected. Your smile is bright, your eyes kind and lips looking soft and shiny. Joel has trouble gathering himself when you extend a hand, not a care in the world. His eyes drop to where your sweetheart neckline pushes your breasts together, slightly spilling over the fabric. His mouth goes dry, cock twitching under the denim.

Guess some parts of him didn’t get the memo that he was an old man now.

“Joel, right?” you ask, voice unsure and timid. Your eyes gradually take in the height of him, moving to explore the broadness of his shoulders and stopping at his eyes. “John mentioned you.”

Joel’s stomach suddenly turns sour, it’s enough for him to snap out of the sudden lustful gaze he found himself in. He grabs your hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “That’s right. Joel Miller at your service, ma’am.”

He might be imagining it, but he swears your breath hitches just a little when he takes your hand.

“How chivalrous,” you smile and move to the side. “Come on in, Mr. Miller.”

“Joel is just fine,” he grunts, reminded of the old-age comment. How young were you, he wonders. Late twenties, early thirties? He has no idea. He’s also not sure if he wants to know.

You close the door behind him and nod, “Alright then Joel,” you step in front of him, walking towards what he assumes is the kitchen. Joel dutifully follows. “I’m sure John told you about what needs to be done, so hopefully you don’t have any questions.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, confusion swirling in his expression. You don’t turn to look at him, entering the kitchen, you continue, “I had something else in mind originally but he told me to trust him so... I guess that’s what I’m doing now.”

“That don’t sound right,” Joel mumbles. He gives the area a once over, he sees a lot of pink, clean, and polished furniture. The windows are large, allowing the sun to bathe everything within. He vaguely remembers John mentioning a dark, minimalist look but he wasn’t really listening at the time. “Isn’t this your kitchen?”

Your shoulders raise at his question and you finally turn to face him, kind eyes now tainted with a hint of sadness, “It’s going to be our kitchen soon. He probably thinks it’s too girly.”

“That’s no reason to leave you out of the design process,” Joel answers, taking a step closer. You smile helplessly with a shrug, your eyes dropping to his lips before averting them. His pulse races, something wicked forming in his head. He stops an inch away from you, a mere breeze would’ve been enough for your bodies to touch but he keeps still and so do you. You’re flustered, he can tell. “You wanna tell me what you had in mind?”

Your eyes briefly go wide, something like shame crossing your face but the expression is quickly replaced by understanding, “Oh the design,” you murmur, voice barely a whisper. “I honestly would’ve loved some more counter room since I love to bake.”

“Well, you’re in luck darlin’ because I don’t remember much of the details your boyfriend gave me,” he smiles when your brows furrow with confusion. “Meanin’ you have to lead me with the design.”

He swears your smile is the brightest damn thing he’s seen in a long while.

It’s the last day of the constructions in your kitchen but you’re not thinking of the new kitchen counter or the new cupboard, all you’re thinking of is Joel’s proposition, and how you were soaked with just the mere thought of it.

You and Joel had grown close during the time he fixed up your kitchen. Surprisingly, you actually went with the design you initially wanted and not the one John had in mind. You knew it would lead to a fight and some part of you was glad—John was meant to be perfect but it was only on paper. He was a dream boat when in public and amongst friends, but alone? Not a chance. He belittled you, hated almost all your hobbies and always made unnecessary comments on what you looked like.

Despite yourself, you had blabbed all of that to Joel. He made you feel safe, and the fact that he was very pleasant to look at helped. He didn’t say much but you could tell that he was livid, which secretly made you pleased. It was good to see that how John treated you wasn’t actually the norm.

You loved watching him work. The way sweat would slide all the way down to his neck and how his muscles would tense, straining the fabric of his shirt.

He told you about how John had treated him, confessed he thought you would be the same. Your insides had boiled with anger. You apologized profusely and he just shook it off, saying it wasn’t your fault.

Then the kiss had happened.

It had happened on a particularly bad day. You were upset, filled with negative emotions to the brim and all you wanted was unconditional comfort. You kissed him, he didn’t stop you until your hand reached for his belt.

“I wanna show that asshole how amazin’ you are,” he had said. “Will you let me?”

At the time you hadn’t known what he meant by that.

But now you do.

“Look into the camera, sweetheart,” he murmurs, mouth pressed against your ear. You shudder, your bare body feeling good against his, like you were made for him. Your pussy throbs and drools all over his cock that slides agonizingly slow between your folds. You try to do as he says but it’s just too hard when your eyes are constantly on the brink of rolling back into your skull. He drags his lips down your neck as his large hands knead your breasts, your nipples achingly hard. “Don’t make me say it again, honey. Don’t make me be mean when you’re such a good girl.”

“Oh, fuck—” your body shudders, lashes fluttering as you stare right into the camera with a lost expression. You see yourself, Joel right behind you. You don’t know how but he looks even taller while his body splays over yours, bending you over. He presses his palm over your forehead, forcing the arch of your back. Your inner thighs are soaked, his cock moving between your legs. You see the flash of the glistening head every time he rocks himself forward.

He looks into the camera and your entire body clenches with want, “Look at that,” he hums, laving your neck in open-mouthed wet kisses. “Your girlfriend already going stupid with my cock. Not so bad for an old man huh?”

Joel’s lips stretch menacingly, eyes shining with amusement. Letting go of your forehead, he pushes both your tits closer to the camera, thumbs moving over the pebbled flesh. You moan loudly and your legs quiver.

“Sweet thing over here tells me you don’t let her ride you—I thought you were a dumbass before but now I think you’re a downright moron. Fuckin’ hell, who wouldn’t want such an eager thing jumpin’ up and down his cock.”

You whimper, eyes going teary. Your heart races wildly in your chest. “J—Joel, please. . .”

“Hear that, John,” he growls, the tremble of each word reverberating into your skin. “She’s beggin’ for my cock. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

You nod but it’s not enough for him, not enough for Joel. “Don’t be shy now, tell him. He ever got you this wet?”

“N-No,” you breathe out and maniacally shake your head. “N-Never.”

“Poor thing,” he clicks his tongue. “Poor poor thing. Don’t worry, daddy’s got you now. Doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” you slur, pushing back your hips. “Fuck me, fuck me—Fuck me, daddy, please.”

“Say it again,” his teeth sink into your skin. “One more and I’ll fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you moan, eyes rolling back. “Daddy, need you, need your cock. Fuck me, please.”

He hums in satisfaction, “Well, since you asked so darn nicely,” Joel kisses your temple and his lips move over your skin as he speaks to the camera, “Looks like she’s my girl now, my good girl.”

When he buries himself into you, inch by inch, your jaw goes slack and your nipples go tight. You forget about the camera, about John who’ll see this. You only think of him. He stretches you to your very limit, his cock thick and hard. It takes you everything not to move your hips. You want Joel to tell you what to do. You want him to fuck you so good that your mind will go blank as you start bouncing on his cock. His one hand grips your waist firmly as the other remains underneath your breast, the sensitive flesh spilling over his hand while holding you.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs into your ear, his cruel teasing from earlier gone.

“Good,” you whimper, squeezing him tight. “So fucking good, the biggest I’ve ever had.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” he kisses the skin behind your ear. “Such a filthy mouth on such an innocent lookin’ girl. You were wasted on that jackass.”

He knocks the air from your lungs before you can answer. The drag of his cock like lightning searing your skin. He fucks you hard, almost angrily, but you know it’s not directed at you. Never at you. The smack of his balls against your ass fills the bedroom, and you’re positive the phone is recording every wet, filthy sound. It doesn’t take much for Joel to reduce you into a withering mess, every word forgotten, his hips relentless as he fucks deeper and deeper into you.

Then suddenly you’re tilting back, his arm an anchor around your stomach as you find yourself between his thighs sitting on his lap. Your eyes move to the screen, you look perfect between his legs, the muscles tensing and flexing as he grinds his hips. Your skin pleasantly burns.

“Come on, sweetheart, show him what he’s been missin’ out on.”

Joel leans back, palm planted firmly on your mattress with pretty pink flowers that John hates.

Your body takes control, your brain swimming in a fog of lust and pleasure. You grip his thick thighs, bracing yourself, you begin to move up and down his cock. He fills you beautifully. His gaze is fixed on the tiny camera, staring directly into it as you try your best to please him. Arousal coils tight in your stomach. Your breasts sway with your every move, your body coating him in shiny slick.

“A throne for a princess,” he groans, eyes moving from the camera to your reflection on the screen. Fire burns down your spine. His gaze and presence alone choking the air from your lungs. You twist yourself to get a better look at him, catching his gaze momentarily, you moan wantonly at the sight. Him only sitting, relaxed while you’re breaking down sends jolts of electricity up and down your spine. You sit wholly, grinding down while keeping his cock buried deep inside, searching for that devastating spot inside you.

The world around you becomes a bright white when you do.

Your ears start ringing, and you begin to shake, legs clamp together as you shudder around the length of him. A choked sound between laughter and bewilderment tears from your throat. Your body moves of its own accord now, helplessly bouncing on his cock, the bulbous head grazing against a certain spot that just makes you want more and more and more—

“Yes yes yes yes,” you chant. Joel’s head disappears from view everytime you move up. You hear his moans, they become louder and louder, his southern drawl becoming prominent the more fucked out he gets.

His sounds only spur you on, making you ride him harder, sweat beading at your tailbone. Your pussy swallows him hungrily, every inch of him without protest. While you’re absolutely lost on his cock, you notice him tilting his head so he’s in view again. You hold your breath. His mouth parts, the tip of his tongue touching the corner of his lips, he gives the camera a taunting look. Joel’s expression turns into a half smile and he wraps his arms around you. One going over right above your breasts and the other around your stomach. His hand cups the side of your neck. He drags his mouth down and up your cheek.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he rasps, kissing you. You look to the camera, hips slowing but not stopping. “Yes, pretty girl, just like that,” another kiss. “Look at that pretty girl getting fucked.”

Joel squeezes your breast as his arm comes down, both of them now tight around your stomach. You feel him pulsing deep inside you. His voice is thick with arousal. “Look how beautiful you are on my dick. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

You nod and grind against him, loving how deep he feels. He kisses your neck, tongue tracing shapes into your skin as both his hands come up to your tits and squeezes them, the plump flesh spilling from between his knuckles. His lips move down your shoulder and back up your neck, following the same path over and over again, decorating it with slow kisses.

Joel gives the camera one last look before disappearing behind you, fingers sprawled over your stomach and down between your legs. You feel the rough hairs between your shoulder blades first, then the softness of his lips follows through. Your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back, his mouth is so goddamn soft, the skin tingling and burning at the same time.

His hips snap up, and with the sudden movement, a fresh wave of wetness coats his cock. You lean forward, face closer to the camera, while he lays back, watching hungirly at the way your ass moves.

“Yeah, just like that,” he groans, smacking both your asscheeks simultaneously.

Then before you know it he’s moving, pressing you fully over the table in front of you, the phone shaking as he begins to hammer into you. You can’t even see what you look like anymore, your head dropping, you cry out his name. If it wasn’t for his hands on your hips, you would’ve collapsed to the ground.

“That’s it, come on my cock,” he nips at your shoulders. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet—can you hear that? Can you hear how fuckin’ soaked your girlfriend is on an old man’s cock?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s not talking to you, but the camera. You flutter around him, squeezing him tight enough that he moans, hips slowing. “Daddy,” you gasp. And with that, you finally let go, cunt gushing around him, coating him with slick. Joel peppers your back with soft, quick kisses, whispering praise between every kiss.

“That’s it, sweetheart, bet you never came that hard before. Good girl—my good fuckin’ girl, wettin’ my cock so well.”

You tighten and gush around him a second time, you swear by how hard you’re clenching your insides most likely have taken the shape of him.

“Where do you want me?” he whispers into your skin. Words coming muffled and hoarse, dripping slow like molasses. You push back against him, looking into the camera with a small smile.

“Inside me, daddy, please.”

“Oh shit—” he picks up the pace, the thrust of his hips sloppy and needy. “Shit shit shit—so fuckin’ perfect, so good for allowin’ this old man to wreck her good—So good for tellin’ me to fill her up—fuck—”

You’re blindsided by how honest he suddenly is, the rasp of his voice going straight between your legs. His hips stutter and Joel comes with a loud, thick moan, spilling into you. You moan right alongside him. He continues to rock into you with shallow thrusts, laying kisses on every patch of skin his lips can reach.

While you’re lost in complete bliss, he reaches around you and grabs the phone, stopping the recording before collapsing back to the bed, pulling you along with him.

“You feel so good,” he says, cock softening inside. You feel his come trickling down from between your thighs and shiver.

“You feel good too,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and covering his lips with your own. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.”

“Guess this old man still has some tricks up his sleeve,” he chuckles weakly and you press another kiss, this time on his cheek. “We don’t have to by the way.”

“Don’t have to what?”

“Send the video.”

You stare at the phone for a second, brows furrowed as you think. Then with a quick shrug, you turn back to him. “Nah, let him see it. I could’ve forgiven how he treated me but not you.”

He clicks his tongue with disapproval, “You shouldn’t forgive him for how he treated you either, darlin’. You deserve better.”

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to prove it me then,” you smile and with a sudden impulse, boop his nose. He laughs, nipping the pad of your finger.

“I guess I will.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tw daddy kink #tlou fanfic #the last fo us fanfiction #hbo tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfic

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creatingblackcharacters · 18 days

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“Why’s she so rude?” (She’s Not)- Stereotypes, pt2

So I'm sure that you all thought I was going to give a blow-by-blow list of "visual stereotypes to avoid". I'm going to be honest here, I thought about it, and figured it would be redundant. My page already includes sensitivity on depicting Black people. So instead, I'm going to focus on stereotypical "character" concepts, so that you can 1) not write it in your stories and/or 2) recognize it in media (fiction and reality!) and in life!

Two major resources: the Jim Crow Museum website is an EXCELLENT resource to understand the imagery of antiblack racism in U.S. history and society. The other, White Tears, Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad. The book focuses on the many racist stereotypes projected onto women of color and how that purposeful, systemic negative perception of us bleeds into every aspect of our lives- specifically by white women/white feminists who believe that they are not contributing to said oppression.

I'll start with Black women, just because I’m passionate about it (obviously) and there are so many things I wish I had and hadn’t seen growing up. We deserve better by the year of our lord 2024.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mention of sexual assault, assault

Misogynoir

What I want everyone to understand, before I get into this, is the concept of intersectionality, and more specifically, misogynoir. Misogynoir is the specific type of contempt and prejudice that Black women face at the intersection of race and gender. I say this because you might read these things and go “oh, as a woman, I experience these things!” I get it, but I want you to PAUSE, and remember, that right now, we are talking about Black women’s experiences. And those will often be different, due to that intersection of identities. And that understanding will have an effect on how you understand (and thus, write) those experiences.

The Jezebel

The link goes into much deeper detail, but the Jezebel is the idea that a Black woman or girl who is sexual is somehow “fast”, “salacious”, “a hoe”, “driven by desire/doesn’t understand purity”, and at its worst, unable to be r*ped/a victim because she is less valuable yet somehow inherently seductive to men.

This gets thrown around CONSTANTLY in media and life for Black women (my first experience of treated like I was ‘fast’ was when I was like… twelve?) One major, visible example is Megan Thee Stallion. Meg has a college degree, she likes anime, she’s a brilliant rapper, and has an entire personality and struggles she’s shared… But she also likes to dress scantily clad and have sex. By doing those things, she ‘lessened in value’. And because of this, when she was shot at and assaulted, even Black people questioned her character, rather than understanding that she could have been anyone, and she still wouldn’t have deserved to be assaulted. She's not allowed to be multi-faceted; she "brought it on herself".

Black girls and women who happen to take charge of their own sexuality, to the discomfort of society, are treated as Jezebels- as whores. Think about it- if one of Taylor Swift's recent boyfriends shot at her, would the media question her value or her word? Question her equivalently high ‘body count’?

Question how you write your Black woman- she can enjoy sex! She can be sexy! We love to see it! But if you're punishing her specifically, or judging her within the narrative, versus your other characters who are allowed to safely explore and act upon their sexuality… Check your judgment! Why do you feel the way you do about this character? Why do you think that your Black character is the one that should be judged for her actions. Would you feel this way if it were a nonblack character?

The Sapphire/Angry Black Woman

Ohohoho, I have infinite amounts of feelings about this one.

This is the "sassy Black friend", the "aggressive Black boss", “step on me angry mommy”, the one who does the z formation and makes everyone "uncomfortable". She’s not allowed to be confident, assertive, or self-assured- she’s arrogant, rude, and aggressive.

I discussed it in part one, but I'll reemphasize it: your Black woman doesn't have to be an ‘Angry Black Woman’ in order to be angry! Just like any other human being on the planet, we are allowed to be mad. (In my honest opinion, we have a lot to be mad about, but I digress 😅)

If the only character that ever gets angry is your Black character, I want you to consider why. What is she angry at? Was this something you wanted the reader to understand or empathize with? Are we supposed to disagree? How does everyone around her treat her anger? Is her anger righteous? Is she always shut down or dismissed for it? Is it only meant to defend her friends, but never herself? Does the narrative suggest that it’s only good in use of others and not herself? Would this be the same reaction if one of the nonblack characters was angry? Is this something you did on purpose?

Very often, we're called 'angry Black women/girls' to invalidate our emotions. My therapist once said anger is a protective emotion. We might be hurt, overstimulated, sad, depressed, frightened, anxious… But we are often not allowed the grace of others digging deeper to see that. Even if the other characters do not understand her anger, even if her motives are not meant to be understood at the moment… you as the writer should be aware. But if every time it’s time to show anger or upset, it’s your Black character… consider why this is the one you thought would best convey that message, and how your Black readers might feel seeing that this character (who may not even be the ‘bad guy’) is the one that is ‘only’ angry. No other development, no other emotions, just… there to be mad.

I take this one to heart, as someone who feels very passionately about things… this is one of those things where I wish, in life and in media, people would have more grace for Black women. We're human, too. We have feelings, too.

The Mammy

This one isn’t as visually blatant anymore in media as it was in the past (like every Mammy doesnt look like Aunt Jemima), but you may have seen this one as "the mommy figure". The "lesbian that parents the silly gay boys". The one that’s always encouraging the ship of the white boys, but never the one allowed to be in the ship (especially when her ship is canon!)

A good example of this was how people expected Jessica Drew from ATSV to be "more loving" to Gwen, rather than the mentor and boss she was (plus, as a Black woman with a Black mother… trust and believe, she was quite direct and gentle). And in comparison to her counterpart, white man Peter B. Parker, was decried far worse for similar detrimental actions.

The Mammy often serves in opposition to the Jezebel and Sapphire/Angry Black Woman. What makes the Mammy particularly annoying is that it implies that the only good Black woman character is a ‘nice’, demure, unthreatening, homely, motherly figure whose job it is to make sure to center the (usually) white ones. The Mammy is expected to coddle everyone, to her own detriment. She's a ‘good Black’ because she causes no issue, raises no fuss, never shows a negative feeling, knows that she has to ‘be strong’ but to always defer because the white characters know best. She’s ‘not a threat’, and that’s why she’s ‘allowed’ to be around. We shouldn’t have to be those things in order for our stories to be heard and understood, in order to be empathized with or treated like someone of value.

The Strong Black Woman

If I never hear this phrase again in my life, if we eradicate it from future generations for Black girls and women, I'll cry of joy lmao. I hate it, and it's not for the reasons most nonblack people would expect. Lord, this one. Anyway. The ‘strong Black woman’ is meant to protect everyone, no help needed! Whenever something is wrong and we all need a pickup, here she comes to ‘let me do it’ and everything is going to be okay! She did all the necessary suffering so that your characters don't have to! She can sweep in and save the day!

Now here's the dissonance kicks in. This one on its surface probably sounds like a good thing. She's a hero! She’s resilient! She's great! Who wouldn't want to be superwoman? Who wouldn't want to reject being a love interest, all women are always love interests! Let us be the badass that kicks ass and shows the men what for! Who wouldn’t want that, 24/7?!

The answer: US. 👍🏾🤣

This is a long, separate conversation on its own, but we have to understand that Black women (women of color, really) and White women do not always share the same end goals and understanding of "strong woman character" or even feminism. We certainly aren't always the love interest. Very usually not, in fact. We are always pushed to the side. We are already the hero in our lives, we're already the "strong woman".

Not everyone yearns to be the Singular Hero who will Fix It All as many of us are already expected to do. It's exhausting having to swallow your own needs for everyone else all the time, especially when it's suggested that you have no value otherwise if you don't. Heroism is Exhausting, and it's something worth looking into when you’re characterizing your Black girls and women. I’m not saying that we can’t be strong! We are, and it’s impressive! But I also want us to add some nuance to that strength, the way we would for any other character. What it means to have community, rather than to do it all alone. How even if she wants to be the hero (and that’s okay! That’s fine!) how it would still wear on her. Surrounding your Black girl character with unconditional support, to have a lover that actually wants to pull some weight- that's something many of us actually would like to see, because we're usually shafted to the side as 'someone who can do it all herself' (in order to hide that no one thinks we need or are deserving of the help).

It's okay to let your Black woman and girls show weakness, to rest, to be taken care of! It's not "less feminist" to accept that we're humans that need help and can't carry it all, too. That it’s okay to want to feel valued and protected. Because god knows, I wish I didn’t grow up strong and resilient, I wish I grew up knowing that the world cared that I was safe.

Standards of Beauty

These standards are not the same! I've mentioned it before in my lesson on skin tones, but very often when we think of "beauty", it’s easy to fall into the idea of whiteness. Pale skin, thin hair textures, etc. If those are our existing standards of beauty, then it doesn’t matter what any of us look like- we’re ugly! When I was in high school, I remember a classmate saying that Swedish people were the most beautiful people because of "white hair and pale skin". Without even meaning to, that guy basically said everyone darker than a stack of loose leaf printer paper was ugly by proxy of not being Nordic White (no matter how pretty they actually might be!!) 🤣

It’s also of note that whiteness/paleness tends to be connected with innocence and cleanliness in western culture, while blackness/darkness tends to be considered dirty, sinful, fearful. Now, while the origin of this idea may not be racist itself, when you spend hundreds of years implying that Blackness is bad- to the point that, in the U.S. they came up with an entire slur one step past “negro” (meaning ‘Black’) to deem you less than- it’s hard to say that the societal connotation didn’t apply.

Now we've already discussed working on describing our Black characters better! I continually remind you all that you should be describing them as wonderfully made as you do your white characters. Keep in mind that we live in a world where from day one when we enter the world, Blackness and Black features are not seen as beautiful nor emphasized. Whiteness is the standard of beauty that we, for a long time and still, are expected to adhere to. If you'd like to do better by your characters, remember that you don't have to give them "white features" or use "white" as an adjective to do that!

Black Women as Women

“There was literally nothing, not a thing, that a white woman could ever have that was worth more than her sexual virtue, and this obligated mandatory chasteness and sexual vulnerability… If the most important thing a woman has is virtue, and only white women can have virtue, then by definition, only white women can be women.” Ruby Hamad, ‘Only White Women Can Be Damsels’, White Tears, Brown Scars

Often, Black women by definition are not included under the societal banner of “women”, from our features, to our personalities, to our 'role' in life. "True Womanhood" is denied us, cis and trans, because of our Blackness. The things that make women ‘women’, we are not included under, because systemically, the only ‘women’ that were meant to mean anything were white.

I bring up Megan Thee Stallion again. Meg is probably one of the most beautiful, feminine women I've ever seen in my life. Men still call her a man, due to her height, due to her confidence, and due to their insecurities. Same with Serena Williams; Serena is damn near built like a god in my eyes. She was told she was manly from the beginning of her career, no matter how beyond skilled she was in women's tennis. Even when she damn near died giving birth- the most basic of 'tasks' women are seen as having in this society, it didn't matter. Black women are 'less womanly', 'less valuable', 'less in need' of that protection and identity that society swears Women™ need (and not in the honest way that we do need protection).

Consider that you're making sure that your Black women have the options of range of gender expression and emotions (and if they aren't allowed to, is that on purpose). If you're only ever creating us and we're in service of some dainty white woman and never the other way around... consider how that may reflect what you think our role is in your story, and in your mind.

Adultification

“Awkward moment when Rue is some black girl and not the innocent blond girl you imagine.” twitter: sw4q

It has been shown that Black girls the same age as their white girl counterparts are deemed older and less in need of protection, and supposed to 'be more mature'. Imagine that. Deemed inherently less innocent, due to your skin color. Having to parent our siblings, get jobs to contribute, do all the cleaning, and more. Yet, when we act with the maturity that we've been forced to grow into, we're "fast". A little 12-year-old girl, now to society, the Jezebel. All because she wanted to try pink lip gloss or wear a skirt; things that little tween girls might try to understand the big world around them and push boundaries. Now she's a woman, now she can never be a victim. Now she can be beat on and hurt and it's her fault.

I explain this for two reasons: One, for you to think about how your write your Black girls, and Two, for you to hold more grace for Black girls- real and fake. Do you hold her to a higher standard than your white characters of similar age? Does she inherently seem less innocent to you for reasons outside the plot? Is she as human to you as your other characters? Is she allowed to be a child? To act like one? To make mistakes? Are you as empathetic or understanding about that childishness as you are towards nonblack characters? Do you make these decisions on purpose?

It's not like Black girls can never be YA protags or anything- ofc we can. But keep in mind that she's not somehow automatically "stronger" by proxy of her Blackness, that she'd "be tougher". She's a kid. Let her be one.

Conclusion

There’s a LOT you have to consider when writing Black girls and women. I’m not going to sit here and say it’s easy, because being Black, and being a Black woman, is not easy. If you’re stressed reading it, imagine being stressed living it lmao. It’s a constant chain of quick-time events every day of your life to prevent nonblack nuclear meltdown in response to your every single action. I’m not going to apologize for it, either.

That being said, I don’t expect you to understand everything, especially not all at once. I just want you all to keep these things in mind, to question yourself when you’re writing your character- are you treating her differently on purpose? Or are you treating her differently because of a bias you might not even notice you have? It might help to go back, to read how you treat all of your characters. Or, if you’ve never written before, to maybe outline the traits of your characters and figure out where things balance out. As always, all you can do is practice at it. Because it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers.

Whew, I'm actually emotionally strained after this one. My chest is beating fast. Let me go get some groceries now.

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black character design #writing #creative writing #stereotypes #antiblackness #racism

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hotpinkstars · 1 month

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LOST POSSESSIONS - aventurine, boothill, x reader

- in which you lost your wedding band during a conflict with something/someone.

- novas comeback post guys I'm gonna be more fluent with writing I promise. hope you enjoy this though I was gonna add Sunday but my computer is literally at 1 percent sooooooo....

- a lot of crying, minor swearing, besides that all comfort... wc 912

When Aventurine walked into your shared home to the sight of you sobbing on the couch, he thought of the worst. Are you hurt? Did something happen while he was at work? He went up to you to seek for answers.

“What happened? What's wrong?” He internally panicked, not wanting to allow you to see his current emotions. He kept calm as you sat up, tear stained face poking a hole through his battered heart.

“You’re gonna be so pissed!” You sob, somehow starting to cry even harder. You dove back into the warm cushions of the couch when you felt the part near your shins dip, and a hand running through your hair and massaging the back of your scalp.

“You can tell me anything. I won’t be upset, I promise,” he gave you a sympathetic look before proceeding. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t push you.”

You hesitantly show him your bare hands, and he takes them in his. You roll over to face him and look at him with a pained expression, and that's when he seemed to realize.

“Where's your wedding ring?” He said, his words quick. He looked at you slightly wide-eyed before you began bawling again. He began to swipe the tears out of your eyes, his thumb coming into contact with your lower lashes as he quietly attempts to hush you and calm you down.

“Was it stolen? Did you lose it?”

You bring a hand up to your face before sniffling. “It got stolen. The diamond was too appealing to some bastard on the streets on Golden Hour, and it was swiped right off of my hand!”

You curl back into yourself before Aventurine comes down to kiss your face. “I’m not mad at you, babe. I’m beyond pissed off with the person who did that. Nobody seems to have even a drop of human decency these days, do they?”

You slightly shrugged before hugging him close. He returned the hug, and held you there until you quietly whispered a question into his ear. “What are we going to do about the ring?”

He slightly chuckled before bringing his head on top of yours. “I might as well get you a new one. The old one was rather… out of date, if I must say so myself. I could get you a bigger, brighter diamond.”You attempted to protest, attempting to say everything he knew you wanted to say- even something made out of paper would be good enough for me. But he thought you were worth the shiniest, biggest, rarest stone in the world. Worth much much more than that. And this incident wasn’t much of a setback for him, and really didn’t make his wallet cry very hard at all.

Boothill doesn’t play when his significant other is not doing very well. He’s immediately at your side, stroking your hair and trying to do or say anything he can to make you feel better.

But in this instance, it didn’t really work. He realized after a few moments that he just had to be patient, and wait for you to come to him,

“You’re going to be so mad at me if I told you,” you hiccuped, before continuing to talk. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“Why would I ever yell at ya’?” He said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Whatever's got your pretty face all stained with tears can’t be that bad. I hate gettin’ mad at ya’, and ya’ know that.”

You nodded, but dug your face deeper into the pillows. Boothill simply put his metal hand on your back, and rubbed up and down. While the sensation felt cold, it seemed to work to help calm you down because you felt more at ease, and he could tell that too.

“I lost my wedding ring. I don’t know where it went, but one moment it was there and then the next it wasn’t on my hand anymore,” you cut out, trying to hold back more tears. You could see his face change from scared to relaxed.

“Hey, don’t stress it. That’s just a lil’ setback, nothin’ to worry about. We’ll either find it or I’ll buy ya’ a new one,” he says as he picks up your now bare hand, a flash of sadness showing through his eyes. “What’ll make ya’ feel better? Cuddles? If we went out to try n’ find it?”

You shrugged, and he nodded. You buried yourself even deeper into the blankets, giving him the hint that you just wanted to stay inside for now. You felt too bad and your face was rose red from crying, your eyes puffy and your voice raspy. He climbed into the bed with you, wrapping his strong, metallic arm around your covered torso.

“I’ll do a thorough investigation tomorrow. People don’t usually lie to Galaxy Rangers, but I doubt those adorable cutie pies would know somethin’ like that,” he immediately cringed, realizing how the sentence came out. His stupid synesthesia beacon.

But he heard you laugh, and the cringe feeling dissipated into a warmth in his metal chest. His whole goal is to keep you happy, healthy, and safe. If he were to fail at one of those things, he’d fail at his own purpose. For now, his only thing is to cheer you up, and make sure you know that he would never be mad at you for a mistake that's not even your fault.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai #star rail #honkai x reader #star rail x reader #aventurine #kakavasha #boothill #aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr #kakavasha x reader #kakavasha hsr #boothill hsr #boothill x reader

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worldlxvlys · 2 months

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A CHRIS X READER THAT IS POC I BEG YOU ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BUT YK HOW THEY DID THAT COLLAB WITH SAM AND COLBY, TARA, JAKE, LARRAY AND JOHNNIE

BUT DURING THE COLLAB CHRIS WAS BEING REAL TOUCHY WITH THE READER LIKE WHEN SHE BENDS OVER HED PUT HIS HANDS ON HER CROTCH BUT NB SEES IT AND THEY EVENTUALLY F*CK PLS

last time

chris sturniolo x poc! reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, cursing, unprotected sex, cream pie, choking, poc! reader, sexual jokes

a/n: writing for this friend group was so funnn

enjoyyy<33

“wait, ok chris! let me get up!” i exclaimed, laughing as chris squeezed his arms around me tighter.

we were currently at the triplet’s house with his brothers, jake, johnnie, tara, larray, sam, and colby.

when the entire group agreed we were hungry, i offered to make us something.

“so, what’s on the menu?” colby asked, eyebrows raised as he clapped his hands together excitedly.

“nothing, if chris doesn’t let me get up to make it” i spoke, causing him to glare up at me and squeeze me even tighter.

upon hearing the words, the entire group yelled at chris to get off of me, the hunger beginning to make them cranky.

“fine” he grumbled as he let go of me, allowing me to stand up.

i began to make my way to the kitchen when tara spoke up, “wait! i’ll help you” she smiled as she walked over to me.

once we got to the kitchen, which happened to be just out of earshot from the couch that the rest of the group resided on, she began to speak.

“so, you and chris aren’t together, right?” she asked.

i raised my eyebrows at her suspiciously at the statement, squinting at her. “why?”

she lightly chuckled at that, “i just noticed you guys are really touchy, but i don’t wanna assume anything” she said, raising her hands in defense.

i laughed at the gesture, “no, you’re ok. i don’t know what we are, honestly. i mean, we’re really close, probably closer than friends should be. but, neither of us are ready for a relationship, you know?”

it was true, chris and i had done some questionable things for just being friends.

it’s not like we had sex often, we just happened to get caught up in the moment once or twice.

…and a few times after that…. and a few more after those times.

but other than that, we had a completely normal friendship.

we were both aware of each other’s feelings, but we were content with where our relationship was at.

why risk messing everything up when we’re both happy ?

“so you guys don’t want to be in a relationship, you just want to act like you’re in one?” she pointed out, “that logic seems a bit flawed to me”

“you do have a point, but honestly? change is scary, and i’m not willing to completely dismantle mine and chris’s relationship because i got greedy” i spoke.

she tilted her head, squinting her eyes, “is that not what you’re doing right now?” she deadpanned. “you’re not worried that fucking around will ruin your relationship first?”

my eyes widened at the statement, “when did i say we were fucking around?” i defended, taken aback at how quickly she was able to figure it out.

“so y’all are? i knew it!” larray joined in, suddenly appearing next to me.

i quickly shushed him, not wanting chris to hear the conversation from his spot on the couch.

“keep your voice down, he’s right there! and where did you even come from?” i asked.

i glanced over to chris to determine whether he had heard the conversation, only to be met with his eyes already on me.

“you think he knows we’re talking about him?” tara whispered to us, catching his gaze on me.

“i don’t know, but girl he’s eye fucking the shit out of you right now” larray told me.

my jaw dropped at his words, a light giggle falling from my lips.

“oh our girl’s getting dicked down tonight” tara joined in.

“y’all have to stop” i spoke, the two collectively laughing at my flustered state.

suddenly, chris got up from his spot, beginning to walk over to the kitchen.

“oh shit, he’s coming over” i whispered to them.

“okay girl, go get your pasta and lobster” larray spoke, beginning to walk away.

“you got this!” tara whispered, walking away with him.

before i knew it, chris stood in front of me, a light smirk growing on his face.

“you guys talkin about me?” he asked, his hands finding their way to my waist.

“no” i denied, despite of us both knowing it wasn’t true.

"mmhm, you tell them how good i make you feel?” he asked as his fingers ran over the skin under my t-shirt.

“chris” i spoke, swallowing harshly.

“how you act all innocent in front of everyone else, but in bed you’re a freak?” he whispered into my ear.

“chris!” i scolded him, lightly slapping his chest. “what’s gotten into you?”

“what do you think? you’re walking around in this skirt, showing off your thighs. all i can think about is shoving my head between them” he spoke, his hands running down my body.

just before they could make their way to my thighs, a voice made us pull away, “you guys are real cute and all, but i’m hungry! chris, please just let her make our food” jake yelled from his spot.

his words caused tara to smack him upside the head, his face contorting into a wince at the feeling.

“what are you making anyway? we have, like, no food in our fridge” matt spoke up.

“oh, i know. i was just gonna make pizza rolls” i answered.

“we don’t have any pizza rolls” nick spoke, brows furrowing in confusion.

“yeah, we do” chris spoke, pulling them out of the freezer, “i bought her some”

i smiled bashfully at the statement, mouthing a “thank you” to chris.

he lightly nudged me with his shoulder in response, a smile of his own growing on his face.

“you two make me sick” colby spoke, “don’t be jealous, it’s not my fault no one buys you pizza rolls” i defended.

his eyes widened at that, taking offense to the words.

“ok, but wait, you said you were cooking something. this entire time i thought you were actually making us a meal” nick said, the group making noises of agreement.

“listen, y’all ! i’m not, nor did i ever claim to be a chef. i don’t know what you thought, but you were wrong” i spoke playfully.

“and nick, you know there’s no food, this is your house. where did you think i was getting ingredients from?” i asked as i placed the pizza rolls on a sheet.

“girl i don’t know, but pizza rolls aren’t gonna fill anyone up, those are like appetizers”

“ok then don’t eat any” i shrugged as i finished emptying the package.

“y’all can order something if you want, i’m really just craving pizza rolls” with that the group began to have a conversation about what they wanted to order.

“i’ll have some of your pizza rolls” chris spoke from beside me.

“good” i smiled up at him, before grabbing the baking sheet to place in the oven.

i bent over, pulling the oven open to place the sheet on the rack.

when my skirt rose up slightly, chris didn’t waist a second in placing his hand on my ass.

he quickly dipped his fingers into my panties, rubbing my heat.

he used his free hand to pull my front half back up, quickly covering my mouth with the palm of his hand.

“hmphhh” i lightly moaned into his hands, as his fingers explored my wetness, collecting my arousal on his fingers.

before i knew it, his fingers left my body, as he turned me around to face him.

he placed his fingers, which were now coated in my juices, into his mouth.

i watched intently as his tongue swirled around each finger, lapping at them like a starved man.

“hm, just needed a taste” he spoke, smirking at my shocked state, “you should probably close that”

“close what?” i asked him as i blinked rapidly, attempting to recover from his actions.

he nodded towards the oven with his head, “i don’t know how well they’ll cook if you leave the door open” he raised his eyebrows at me.

he was having the time of his life right now.

“uh- yeah, yeah you’re right” i spoke as i quickly closed the oven door.

“need some help with that?” chris asked as he stared down at my thighs, which were involuntarily clenching together.

i was doing my best to hold it together, but his actions turned me on far more than i’d like to admit.

“i’m fine” i spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn’t point out the fact that i was obviously lying.

but he, being chris, would never give me the luxury of sparing me from his teasing.

“really? you don’t look fine. you look like you need to be ruined” he whispered into my ear.

“chris, i’m not gonna have sex with you with all of these people in the house”

“really? don’t think that’s stopped you before” he spoke cockily.

“we said that the last time was gonna be it, remember?” i reminded him, placing my hand on his chest.

“yeah, you’re right, we have to stop. so we’re done doing this” he nodded his head at me.

“yup, that’s it. it’s done”

well, it was done. until-

“fuck, chris! yes, yes, yes ! right fucking there, holy shit” i did my best to keep quiet, as chris pounded into me from behind.

“one last time, just one last time” he whispered to himself while he drove himself in and out of me like his life depended on it.

“if this is the last time, i’m gonna make sure you remember that no one else will ever fuck you like i do” he whispered into my ear, chest pressing against my back while my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

“ you got that? can you say it back to me, princess? “

“i- no one, no one will ever fuck me like you do” i heaved out, fisting his sheets as continued to push himself deep inside of me.

“damn right” he rasped, as he gave my ass a slap, eliciting a moan from me.

“god, what did i do to deserve you? you’re so fucking good for me, holy shit” his head fell back as he moaned out.

“you feel so good in me, chris. don’t want anyone else, just you” i spoke back to him.

“yeah? am i making you feel good, baby? that’s all i ever want, just want you to feel good” he whispered, his fingers digging into my waist.

“you always do, baby. always feel so good with you” i moaned back.

my mind grew fuzzy as he went from giving sharp, quick thrusts to slow and deep ones, allowing me to feel every inch of him.

“love fucking you hard, but i gotta show you how much i care bout you” he spoke before burying his nose into my neck.

he placed a sweet kiss to the skin, before pulling it between his lips.

he sucked on the skin until it became darker, making it known that he had been there.

his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me close to his body as his cock stretched out my pussy.

“i don’t- fuck chris, it’s so good” i choked out as he continued to leave kisses against my skin.

“love seeing you like this, all fucked out under me. you’re so fucking beautiful, can’t believe you’re even real” he whispered.

“all yours, chris. you’re the only one who gets to see me like this”

i pushed my hips back into him, grinding on his dick, as he wrapped a hand around my neck to choke me.

“god, oh my-” he whined out his dick twitching inside of me.

“you gonna cum for me, chris?” i asked as i felt myself on the brink of my own orgasm.

“yes, yes, please cum with me” he whispered, head dropping to the crook of my neck as he shot his seed inside of me.

he continued to thrust into me, the coil in my stomach snapping as i coated his cock in my pleasure.

coaxing me through my orgasm, he gave a few more sloppy thrusts, before gently pulling out of me.

“did so good for me” he mumbled, pressing a light kiss to my shoulder.

“was that good ? did i hurt you?” he asked as he went to lay down next to me.

“of course it was good, chris. and i’m okay” i told him, cupping his cheek.

“good, let me clean you up and we can cuddle?” he asked, a grin taking over his features.

“yeah, sounds good“ i spoke as i heard my phone vibrate on chris’s nightstand.

when i opened it up, i was met with unopened text messages:

THE ULTIMATE CROSSOVER ❗️(10 MEMBERS)

matty b 💁🏻‍♂️ 9:01 pm

SHUT THE HELL UP ! WE CAN HEAR YOU ALL THE WAY OUT HERE

nick 👑 9:01 pm

oh great you guys pissed off mat

(i agree w him)

johnnie 🧛🏻 9:02 pm

i’m just waiting for my food

jake 🕸️ 9:10 pm

CHRIS STOP FUCKING AND TELL US WHAT U WANT SO WE CAN ORDER OUR FOOD

tara 👅 9:10 pm

YOU SHOULD’VE GOTTEN IT BEFORE THEY DISAPPEARED TOGETHER

TF WERE U EXPECTING DUMBASS

larray 💅🏽 9:15 pm

🍝+ 🦞

if it’s not snowing she ain’t going y’all

sam 👻🌝 9:34 pm

update: we ate your pizza rolls

colby 👻🌚 9:34 pm

we’re still hungry hurry up

y/n ⭐️ 9:41 pm

MY PIZZA ROLLS ???

FUCK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF U HOES

IMMA FIGHT Y’ALL 🤺🤺

chris 🦌 9:41 pm

oops

my bad guys

nick 👑 9:42 pm

chris come do the walk of shame out here so i can beat your ass 🙂

TARA 🧚🏻‍♀️ 9:20 pm

🌀🌀🌀🌀

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturnssx @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

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lokischocolatefountain · 2 months

Text

Denial || Men Like Me

Part 2 of the Men Like Me series. Part 1

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girthy age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), masturbation (male & female), cis fem reader, descriptions of reader's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, Joel ignores you until he can't, slightly insecure reader, very insecure Joel, corruption kink, mild fem!dom, reader turns the tables a little, name calling, fetishization of virginity, face fucking (not the mouth, but cheek), kneeling, stripping, moneyshot, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 10.4k Summary: After your steamy encounter, Joel ignores you out of guilt, leaving you feeling unworthy. But you make a discovery that makes you turn the tables on him. A/N: The reception that chapter 1 got gave me enough serotonin to keep me going, you guys. I hope everyone likes this chapter at least half as much if not as much as the first one. Even the half would give me a lot of joy. And do say hi in my inbox or my asks. I would loooove to talk about these two. As always, pleaaaaaase give me reblog and/or a comment to recharge my writing batteries. Most importantly, a big thanks to @tobuildahomeinthewoods because the smut part was from their idea in the last chapter's comments .

“Long day, huh?”

“What?” you asked, your brain taking a second too long to process the words. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah,” you said, going back to your glass of whiskey.

“I heard about the kids. They gotta be more careful,” Tommy said, looking to his brother for some kind of confirmation. Joel nodded hesitantly, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he traced the rim of his glass with his middle finger. So cavalier like he didn’t fuck you with that very finger. Asshole.

“Yeah, yeah. Climbing trees is not wise,” you agreed, willing yourself to look away from his brother. You didn’t want to get caught staring, or worse glaring. The chatter of the dinner crowd at the Tipsy Bison drowned into the sound of you tapping your fingers on the wood counter of the bar. You got up abruptly, the bar stool going down from the force of your actions. You bent over to pick it up, a hand moving to your chest instinctively to keep from flashing everyone. With no such protection for your ass, you could feel familiar eyes on them. Eyes that you’d become accustomed to having on you no matter the distance.

“You ok–” Tommy began, but you cut him off.

“You have a good one, Tommy,” you said, grabbing your bag from the bar counter and slinging it over your shoulder. “I gotta go. I’m really tired.”

Like the fool that you were, you picked your glass up and downed the rest of the whiskey, your throat rejecting the choice with a cough that had you spit out half of the burning liquor. Great. Now you’d have to wash your scrubs before going to bed so it didn’t stain. Fucking great.

There were some protests from the younger Miller brother, some words of concern. But you ignored him as you hurried out of the Tipsy Bison and into the night. At least one of the Millers had some manners. And it wasn’t the one that broke into your house and showed you what a clitoris was. It was fucking embarrassing that he was ignoring you after that. Even more embarrassing that you had to learn it from a random guy when you were the one poring over anatomy textbooks trying to become a doctor. You should know anatomy better than anyone else. Your mentor should’ve taught you. You’d learned how to conduct a safe childbirth. Even been allowed to close up the last c-section patient. But you didn’t fucking learn how the baby got in there.

Alright well, you did. But you hadn’t been told about some of the especially sensitive parts of the body that would be involved in the process.

You tossed your bag on your couch, got yourself some cookies that you traded for last week and climbed up the stairs to your bedroom. It wasn’t a nutritious dinner, but it filled your tummy. It came in handy when you didn’t want to spend time chopping vegetables and boiling pasta or whatever the hell you had to do to cook.

Your bedroom had become your prison in the last two weeks. You felt trapped, unable to see beyond it. How could you, when it ironically was right here that you found freedom?

Even as you did something as mundane as eating cookies on bed and spilled crumbs on your sheets like a child, the chair in front of your dressing table was in sight. From where you sat, you could see very clearly the scratch on the black paint that revealed the light wood underneath. Evidence of how you had to hold on to dear life as Joel worked your pussy expertly. Like he knew it as well as he knew the tools of his trade. Like weaving his fingers between your folds was as familiar to him as it was for you to weave through skin with your suture needle and thread.

You felt yourself dripping at the mere memory of his thick fingers pumping away inside you, unraveling the fibers of your being. The sight of him at the bar– his finger tracing the rim of the glass– it took you to the memory of that very finger teasing your pussy.

The pornographic magazines, the entertainment for men, no longer saw the light of day from their box under your bed. Pictures of nude women you wanted to model yourself after in order to be attractive to men no longer sufficed. All you strived for now was to be attractive to him. To be strung like a puppet in his hands while all he seemed to want was to get away from any place where you were.

You felt a pang in your chest as you recalled the first time you went to the house of worship after your time with Joel to find that he’d been replaced with the younger Miller. Tears stung in your eyes as you felt rejected by his absence. Like he no longer wanted to be in the same room as you, hammer nails into wood as you spoke to your fellow townspeople about their wellbeing. You told yourself it was just a temporary thing. That the brothers just liked to alternate shifts and he would return soon to fix the windows that shattered during a storm in the winter.

He never came.

You’d never experienced such rejection before. You’d never wanted before. To want was to risk rejection, to feel the pit in your stomach as you felt now. You never wanted to feel less than, undesirable, unwanted. So you pulled away from all the men you dated. If you could even call that dating. Maybe it was your own fault for thinking it would be easier with Joel. What did you think? That he would fold immediately because you showed off your legs and touched his arm and pushed your breasts out to present your femininity?

Naive, stupid girl.

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.”

Something twisted in your belly and you lied down, pulling your covers over you as though it would contain the shame coursing through you.

You probably looked silly to him, like a little girl playing adult. Like a kitten picking a fight with a lion. Less than half his age, just a fucking preschooler on outbreak day when he would’ve been a fully grown man. Maybe already beginning to gray, the skin by his eyes crinkled from the years he spent smiling at and wooing women. Why would he want a girl? He’d want a real woman. Someone like Tommy’s wife, perhaps. Someone he wouldn’t have to teach.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man?” his taunt rang cold in your ear, sending chills down your spine like he was still behind you, fingers buried deep inside the most intimate part of you. You pressed your thighs together, heat pooling between them as it always happened when you thought of what he did to you.

Shame didn’t deter you as you brought your fingers to your pussy, brushing one against your clit with curiosity. With fear. It felt so good, like its sole purpose went beyond the animal need to survive and propagate. You bypassed it to touch your weeping slit, more comfortable with what you were already used to for carnal pleasure.

Your own fingers had always been enough. Out in the wilderness when you needed to release pent up energy. After long days at the clinic and sharing notes with the other students. When you were tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep. Your fingers always took you to where you needed. You were always satisfied.

Not anymore.

You whined as the different angles you tried failed to work. The physical pleasure was the same. But not quite like how it felt with him. His hand was larger, his fingers longer and thicker. He showed you sports inside you that you’d never been able to touch yourself. Maybe this was what people meant when they said ignorance was bliss. Knowledge of pleasure you could have but couldn’t give yourself was torture.

As much as you resented Joel now, you couldn’t help but conjure images of him as you brought yourself closer to release. His deep brown eyes, his large hand that he wrapped around your throat, the way he carried you from your chair and deposited you on your bed. Like a human being weighed nothing to him. Like you were his toy that he could bury his fingers in, play with and set aside when he was done, when he was bored. Entertainment for Men came to your mind again and you cried like you never had at your own touch.

Your thighs trembled as you imagined yourself as one of those women in the magazines, but only for him. Entertainment for Joel. Splayed out on the center page for him to look at and fuck his hand to. You wouldn’t mind being tangible entertainment. Laid out on his bed, limbs arranged in an attractive manner for him, so he could access whatever part of your body he wanted to play with. To be bent to his will and fucked, to be used, given an affectionate pat on your pussy and put away when you’d outlasted his needs only to be given attention when he wanted to get off the next time.

You shook uncontrollably, your eyes squeezed shut and the world went blank as you reached your peak. You pulled your spare pillow to your chest, needing some physical comfort after experiencing such a high. You wished it were him instead of an inanimate object. That he would make you feel good and hold you and kiss you all over. That he would stay when you woke up the next day and do it all over again.

Once the haze of your orgasm cleared up, you cringed at the feelings it had brought out of you. How stupid… Wanting a man who broke in, fucked you with his fingers, and began ignoring you like you did something horrible to him. Fuck Joel Miller and fucking his stupid fucking face. As he said, there were other men in the town. Men who wouldn’t ignore you.

⌘

“How are the windows lookin’?”

“Fixed ‘em up in time for the cold winds. No thanks to you, fuckin’ asshole.”

“Sorry. Y’know I ain’t the church going type.” It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t the church kind before Sarah died and he certainly wasn’t anymore. That the young aspiring doctor he fingered in her bedroom was the real reason behind him swapping work would remain his secret.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbled, playing with the now cold fries on his plate. “It ain’t a church, by the way. Maria keeps correctin’ me. It’s the house of worship.”

Joel rolled his eyes at that. He got the reasoning behind it. The town had people who believed in different Gods and had different religions. Calling the place a Church would be as unfair as calling it a– whatever, he didn’t know any other kind of place for worship. But it still pissed him off when his little brother came to him and went on about something his wife said.

Go off and do whatever your wife tells you, motherfucker.

No matter how he tried, the snide voice in his head that hated Maria never went away. He never said anything to her or Tommy. Maria was decent to him too, unlike the time he first arrived with Ellie. She trusted him with Miles. Invited him and Ellie over to family dinners. But they kept their interactions to a minimum, as though there’d been a silent agreement that it was best they kept it civil so as to not sow discord in the family.

“Whatever. No point in worshiping, be it Jesus or whatever stuff they got goin’ these days.”

A shudder went down his spine, triggered by the talk of religion. As it became colder, Ellie had begun to revert to the empty shell of a child she was after the events in Colorado. There’d been grifters in the past hiding behind religion to cheat people out of their money, to damage children irreparably while preaching the word of God. The end of the fucking world somehow didn’t stop them from going on. Didn’t stop people from believing that an all-knowing, all-powerful guy in the sky was still watching and would protect them.

If what protected people was God, guns were God. And Molotov cocktails. Sharp rocks and shoelaces.

Ellie didn’t tell him much, but from what he could piece together, it was a religious group with one guy leading them. And they were fuckin’ cannibals. Sounded like a goddamn cult.

“It’s a nice place to meet people,” said Tommy, snapping him out of his descent into the void of the recent past.

Joel simply snorted and took a sip of his glass of water. He couldn’t handle his alcohol like he used to. Age and that he had been off his usual cocktail of oxy and whiskey for a long time now. He had to resort to having a lot of water to sober himself up after the occasional evening drinks with Tommy.

“What? It is! I go there, catch up with everyone in town. Usually people go there when they’re going through some shit. It makes them feel conscious if you visit their house. So I just run into ‘em at the Chu– house of worship– and I just talk to them about their lives ‘n see if there’s anything I can do for them.”

“Guess you’re right,” he said, slotting his thumbnail in the ridges on the bar counter absentmindedly, scraping off bits of the old softening wood.

He could go again. Only so many days he could ignore you. But the reminder of the shame coursing through his veins when he saw you this evening made him shake the thoughts off. There was no way he could be anywhere you were without shriveling up and dying of embarrassment.

You were so young.

Relatively unblemished by the world. A fuckin’ virgin. Never known the touch of a man and moaning his name as you touched yourself.

Nope, nope, nope. Shouldn't have gone there, he thought as he felt himself hardening in his pants. Shouldn’t his dick be non-functional by now? He was dangerously close to sixty and spent a good two decades without adequate nutrition. Shouldn’t that be enough to turn his dick limp forever?

“Come over tomorrow, then. We’re doin’ a little memorial thing in the back of the house of worship. That young doctor’s idea, actually. She put the idea forward at the last council meeting. Thinks it’ll help people to have something physical to remember their people by.”

Young, sweet, and so fucking thoughtful.

Not meant for men like him.

Yet he went the next day.

The topic of Sarah hung in the air around him and Tommy like a fog beyond which they couldn’t see. It sat heavy in his chest, the memory of his baby and worse, everything his shit brain had forgotten. He remembered that she gave him shit, mocked him over everything. But she didn’t have a voice in his head anymore. He could describe the sweetness of her voice, but it no longer sounded out in his mind. No matter how hard he tried.

Her favorite color was purple and she loved soccer. He couldn’t recall the name of her team. She loved reading. He didn’t remember her favorite author. She liked animated movies. He couldn’t remember a single one. Just the vague memory of her falling asleep on his lap as cartoon characters chirped away on tv. Even her face was beginning to blur. When he recalled her features, it was only through images of the last seconds of her life.

“We could just do alphabetical order. Simple.”

“Not really,” you said, scribbling lines on the paper. “We get new people in the town sometimes and we don’t want the names they add to stand out, away from the alphabetically ordered list. Might make them feel bad.”

“Yeah, you’re right. What about age?” Tommy suggested.

“Still the same problem. It would force newcomers to have their own separate list at the bottom.”

“How about a first come first serve system? We tell people when we’re taking names down for the memorial and they can come over, form a queue and give us the names they want included. That way, people can keep the names of the people they love in one spot on the memorial instead of having it scattered all over because of age or alphabetical order.”

“What do you think, Joel?” Tommy asked, making him fold his arms over his chest and sigh. He didn’t give a shit. But that wasn’t the most amicale thing to say when someone was trying to do an objectively good deed. Unlike the other people in this town, he didn’t deserve to add the names of his people to a memorial. He failed in protecting them. He didn’t deserve to mourn like he wasn’t the reason they went into early graves.

“Yeah, ‘s good. I agree.” He said, finding no faults with your proposal to order the names of the deceased by the order in which people gave it to ‘em. He didn’t know why he was being asked all this. It wasn’t like he was on the council like them. He was just takin’ measurements when he got dragged into this.

“How many names do you think we’ll get?” Tommy asked him in yet another attempt to get him involved.

Taking pity on his brother, he began a rough estimate of the number of names they’d get for the memorial and how much surface area they’d need for carving them in. “Six hundred people in town. Babies don’t have names to give. Kids wouldn’t have too many and if they had any, it would be on their parents’ list too. How many kids in this town?”

It was a fucking nightmare, sitting there at the table with you and doing calculations when all he wanted was to throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his place. Make you pose like you were posing in front of your mirror that day. Like women in those porno magazines he sneaked into his teenage bedroom and jerked off to. The fuck were you even thinking? Door left open, tits out, fingers in your cunt and his fucking name on your lips.

Did you notice him at your door and decided it would be a fun trick to play on an old man? Or did you always scream his name when you fucked yourself? When was the first time? Did you always come so prettily on your own fingers like you came on his? Being in the dark drove him crazy. But part of him felt that getting the answers would drive him absolutely fucking insane.

The thought alone was enough to make him feel uncomfortable in his pants. He adjusted himself on his seat and looked away from you, afraid that somehow you’d be able to tell that he was having improper thoughts about you when you were talking about honoring the dead. If thinking about you sexually in a church was bad, he was sure it was worse to think it when you were trying to help people memorialize their dead.

You had an air of innocence about you. The brightness of your eyes and the way you moved your hands about as you planned the details of this memorial and scribbled them out on your little notebook. He’d been attracted to that innocence from the very start. A rare thing to find out in the world. When even babies were born into violence and oppression, innocence was a luxury no one even thought to acquire.

A virgin, too.

His cock twitched in his pants. He gulped and looked around to check if anyone had caught his shameless response. Nope.

He was surprised you were a virgin. For all your innocence, you were also fucking beautiful. There were plenty of guys in town. Ladies too, if you liked that. Anyone would’ve snatched you up quick and made sure to show you a world of pleasure. It didn’t take him long knowing you to give in to temptation. It was fucking impossible that no man had worshipped with his head between your thighs. That no man who saw you in your pretty little dresses bent you over and filled you up with his cock.

You were beautiful. Even more so when you came on his fingers. Made all those pretty little sounds. The way you said his name… Nobody had said it like that in such a long time. Not even Tess.

It rang in his head whenever he found himself alone at home. Being in possession of your panties didn’t help matters. White cotton. Innocent. Covered in your dried up release. When he left that day, he made sure to suck on his fingers. Moaned like a fucking creep while going down your stairs. Eyes closed, he could still taste you on his tongue. After so many days. A little tangy with a hint of salt from your sweat and all woman.

It had been embarrassingly long since he felt like a man. He’d been father, brother, smuggler, and father again. But long since he was just man. Never someone desirable. Out there, sex was just for release. Purely biological. The end of the fucking world did not afford good hygiene. You fucked someone because they were the safest option. Not because you were attracted to them.

You, however… You had others in this town. You were here before him. Younger, smarter, with a body that worked perfectly fucking well. You could have anyone but it was his name you were moaning out in the privacy of your room.

He grunted as your voice crept back into his mind. The ‘Joel, please’, and the ‘Sir’.

He grabbed on to the railing as his thighs trembled, afraid he would have an embarrassing fall. His breaths grew quicker and his mind void of everything but you.

On your knees. On your back. On your front so he could fuck you from behind. Your hand around his cock. Your lips stretched out around him as you struggled with his size. Fistful of your hair as you begged for release. Please, Sir. Please, Joel. The heat of your tight velvety cunt. Tears blurring your wide eyed innocence as he stretched out your rear hole. He wanted to take you everywhere, leave you burning with him. Mark you so deep every man you let in after you would know who fucked you first.

It didn't take long. The mental images of you were far too effective. His last time was too long ago. He was too old to last. Too old to want you. Somehow the reminder only pushed him further along. Sticky white cum coated your panties, mixing your scent with his. The mirror showed him a reflection of himself. Old, gray, crow’s feet by his eyes. He dropped your panties in the hamper, the warmth of his own release on his hand and the shame on his face sobering him up quickly.

He wanted to teach you sin. But you had taught him more of it already than you would ever know.

⌘

“Cool jacket, dude!”

“Uh…thanks. I traded for it years ago” you said, digging your thumb nail between the teeth of the zipper. It didn’t fit perfectly, but it worked well on cold nights that weren’t cold enough to warrant a sweater. “Is Joel in? I need to talk to him about a building project.”

“Yeah,” said Ellie before pressing her lips into a thin line. “I mean, he was awake half an hour ago when I left, but he could be in dreamland by now. Cause he’s old.”

“Ah. Of course,” you said, smiling awkwardly at the girl. Joel’s kind of, sort of daughter. You were closer to her than Joel in age. You rolled the memorial plan tighter and tighter, your hands needing to be occupied with something as your mind reeled at the inappropriateness of your desires.

“I’ll make sure I don’t wake him up,” you said before leaving the girl to return to her group of friends.

He was old enough to be your father. It should disgust you, scare you. Maybe it would’ve if you’d had an actual father in your life. A point of reference to know how vile a man of that age would have to be to want a girl your age. You tried to force some disgust into your veins, hoping that would help in putting out the fire in you that threatened to consume you whole. But it was hard to convince yourself that this was wrong when he’d made you feel so good.

Your fingers had become inadequate overnight. If his fingers were so powerful over you… You shuddered to think what he could do for you with his penis. It had to feel better. The organ was made for it, unlike fingers.

You stopped outside his door and knocked without giving it a single thought. If you’d thought about it, you would’ve fled. It had already taken you hours to muster up the courage to make the walk to his house with the draft sketches for the memorial. You wouldn’t let your desperation ruin it.

He looked surprised to see you, mouth opening and closing as though he’d forgotten how to process language. His dark brown curls and the silver that decorated it sat messily atop his head. Like he’d run his fingers through it. An old t-shirt stretched over his chest and struggled against his arms. A pair of dark sweatpants sat on his hips, the drawstrings hanging in the front.

“Hey? Uh…what’s wrong?” he asked, bringing a hand up to his face and scratching his beard. Why was that hot? You had to be out of your fucking mind.

You cleared your throat and looked up into his eyes. “Does something have to be wrong?”

“You’ve never come here, so I thought…”

“I’m here about the memorial plans. I have a few designs I want to run by you,” you said, holding up the rolled up sheets of paper.

“Ah. That. Sure, uh come in,” he said, opening the door and stepping aside to allow you passage. You looked around his house, careful to seem disinterested so he didn’t have more reasons to think you were a stupid little girl pining after him just because he made you come once.

Shit. He probably already thought that.

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me.”

You swallowed at the reminder as he led you to the dining table and offered you a seat. You looked around while he cleared the table. Plates, tools, some worn out novels. So he was the messy sort. You didn’t know who you would be if you’d had the chance to just be. You didn’t know if you would leave things lying around like that if you’d had a normal start to life. Like Joel. Like the others who were old enough to remember life before the cordyceps.

The place didn’t scream Joel Miller. There were no personal artifacts decorating his living room. No framed art. No books. No throw pillows or even a blanket on the couch.

You knew what it was like to have nothing in your house. When you were still new to the town and it hadn’t hit you yet that you were allowed to have your own things. Collect stuff and not worry about having too many things to carry with you when you had to run. You didn’t own anything you couldn’t fit into your backpack. And you took that backpack everywhere when you managed to step outside your new house.

But over time, you’d decorated your house. People you helped out at the clinic often gave you things as a token of their gratitude. Kids drew pictures for you. A lady once gave you the art off her wall that the previous owner had put up. Tommy and Maria gave you a new sweater that she’d knit when she was pregnant. New yarn from new wool from the town’s sheep. The first time you ever got something truly new.

“No decorations, huh?”

“What?”

“You don’t have any decorations here,” you pointed out again and licked your lips nervously.

“Uh, yeah. Not really the priority. Have’ta trade wisely. Can’t be gettin’ pictures when ya need bread.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “But you don't have to trade for it, you know? You could put up something of what’s in the house already. Surely the previous owners left some stuff.”

“They did. Traded ‘em all for things we need. Fresh fruits, bullets, that kinda shit.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be framed art. You could cut up a nice picture from a magazine or something.”

Joel looked up from the plans, head tilted and an eyebrow raised. Shit! Of course he thought you were talking about your magazines with the naked women.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” you said, your voice coming out squeaky. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and looked down at the plans.

“Let’s discuss the plans,” he said, his voice all gruff and his tone so stern.

“I-I- uh… May I use your restroom?” you asked, unable to look him in the eye after what you’d said. After how he’d reacted. You really didn’t mean it like that. But you could see why that would be hard to believe when the last time he saw you, you had a box full of those men’s entertainment magazines on your bed and one open in front of you as you touched yourself.

Touched yourself and moaned his name.

“Upstairs, second door to the left.”

You squeaked out a thanks before you bolted out of his dining room and made your way up the stairs. There were two bathrooms. One decorated with band posters and a poster of a girl with weirdly cut black hair sitting on a motorcycle. Had to be Ellie’s. The second door to the left was another bathroom. Joel’s, apparently. There was just one bar of soap, a toothbrush, and a pot of toothpaste. No shampoo bar. You pulled the toilet seat and lid down before taking a seat.

You let out a groan and planted your face in your hands. Why the hell did you have to go and make it awkward like it wasn’t already that way. After he made you come that day, he’d refused to be anywhere near you. You hoped it was just coincidence, but after over a week it became undeniable that he was avoiding you.

He probably thought you were going to catch feelings. A girl in one of the romance novels you read fell in love with a guy who took her virginity. And there was the time you overheard this guy talking about not wanting to sleep with a girl because she was a virgin. He was afraid she would catch feelings and get clingy.

Now here you were in his bathroom because you thought it was wise to make small talk and ended up insinuating he should put up dirty pictures on his wall. You could scream. But you wouldn’t. There was already enough awkwardness with him.

You could always jump out of the window and run off to your house. Never speak of this again. Pretend nothing happened if Joel tried to talk to you about it. But something told you that he wouldn’t. He would probably be happy if he never had to interact with you again. You had been acting desperate. He caught you touching yourself moaning his name, for fuck’s sake!

Your hands, permanently dry from all the times you scrubbed them clean for your patients, found some moisture from your salty tears. It was embarrassing, sitting in the bathroom of a guy who wanted nothing to do with you after you scared him off with your stupid little infatuation.

You were a grown woman. Still young, but too old to be acting like this. You should have some experience already. Not sniffling over a man more than twice your age. He was right. He had been a grown man with experience longer than you’d been alive. Of course he wanted nothing to do with you.

The window looked more and more attractive as the seconds passed. It had been a while since you did something like that. You didn’t need to jump out of buildings or trees anymore. You didn’t go on patrols like some residents. With no need to fight for your life and having all the food you could need to never go hungry even once, you’d become a little unfit. If you broke a bone jumping out of Joel’s bathroom window, there would be questions. And everyone would know. You’d have to avoid the whole town instead of just Joel.

You’d just have to face it. Even if facing it was doing as little as just bidding him goodbye and bolting out of his house without an explanation. You got off his toilet and pressed the flush just so he didn’t think you were weird. Like it fucking mattered. He already found you weird and desperate.

You washed your hands, letting the water wash away the tears on your hands before wiping your wet hands over your face in an attempt to remove traces of your crying.

You should’ve just left after that. Not looked around. Not snooped like a creep. You didn’t ever dig. You didn’t have to look too deep to catch it. But a sliver of white peeked out through the netted walls of the laundry hamper. A sliver of white cotton with a light blue stitch.

Without second thought, you dug into his dirty laundry. You came up with the white cotton fabric, going straight to the gusset where the blue thread stitched the fabric pieces together. The original stitch had given out and you sewed it back together just some time back. The blue thread was all that you had at the time.

As though the sight of your panties in Joel’s bathroom wasn’t jarring enough, next came the smell. Of you. Your cum. You felt practically hear your own heartbeats as you recalled how he’d cleaned you up with your own panties. You recalled that he stuffed the fabric in his pocket as you lied on your bed, pussy still pulsating from his handiwork, brain melted, and life changed forever.

You took another whiff of your panties, goosebumps raising the hairs on your body as you felt it. Your cum and something else. It was still damp.

Blood rushed back up to your face and you felt yourself getting tense.

This fucker. How dare he? You’d been embarrassed just a minute ago over your desires and he was doing this the whole time? Noticing you on the streets and running away for days. Running back to his home where he kept your fucking panties, apparently. Avoiding you for so long only to cum in your panties.

So he wanted you.

If not you, he at least wanted sex. Dirrty old man who liked attention from you, but you weren’t even disgusted. Just angry he was pretending to be better than that. He could’ve used any old rag, but he used your panties.

You brought your defiled panties back up and smelled them again. Strangely, it smelled something like bleach. Or you could be wrong. You’d never… You didn’t know what a man’s release was supposed to smell like. Was it different for each man or did they all smell the same?

Wetness pooled in your panties as you imagined him touching himself. Large rough hand wrapped around himself. Did he think of you when he did it? Think of you naked in your bedroom and taking his fingers? What did his penis look like? What would it feel like? Soft? Rough? You’d wondered about having one inside you, but never about a particular man’s anatomy. But this was Joel. Joel was the only one who’d gotten this far in your head.

He couldn’t deny it to you anymore. If nothing else, you could at least call him out for ignoring you when he was wiping his ejaculate off with your stolen panties.

“Joel!” you called out before your fears could talk you out of confronting him. Unsure if he would’ve heard you, you opened the bathroom door and yelled his name out again. “Joel!”

“What?”

“Come up here!”

“What happened?”

“Just come here.”

You heard him sigh, the sound followed by the typical grunts and groans he made when standing up. Fuckin’ old man, ruining your life. Ruining your self-confidence. Ruining your fucking panties. His heavy footsteps thudded against the stairs as he climbed up, the sound getting louder as he got closer to the bathroom.

“Why were you screaming my name like y–” he stopped mid scold, frozen in place by the door as he saw what you had in your hand. He opened and closed his mouth, as though attempting to explain but deciding otherwise. He licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“Do you not have rags, Joel?” you taunted, taking a step towards him and enjoying seeing him step back. You felt powerful, moving a large man with just your voice. It was very unlike how he made you feel all the days he ignored you. Weak, insignificant, undesirable.

“You weren’t meant to– Fuck, I’m sorry!”

“Which part are you apologizing for? For breaking into my house and touching me? For ignoring me ever since? For stealing my underwear? Or for doing whatever you did with it?”

You moved him out of the bathroom, making him walk backwards in the hallway you hoped led to his bedroom. Even if it didn’t, you’d be fine. You’d exact revenge in any place you can. As long as you got to make him feel the way he made you feel. Pleasure. Shame. Want.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve—”

You took your last step towards him, finally trapping him against a wall. You stood close enough to place your hand on his chest. You licked your lips, the rock hard muscles beneath your touch storing itself away in your mind for later use.

“Imagine what would happen if I told someone? You sister-in-law, perhaps… She hates you, doesn’t she?” You smirked, though you were screaming on the inside. You didn’t know where you got all this courage from. You didn’t know you had it in you to threaten a man as imposing as Joel.

He turned pale, his hands up against the wall in surrender. If you’d asked him, he wouldn’t tell you the truth that it was to keep himself from touching you. “Please don’t tell anyone. I won’t do this again, I swear.”

“Maybe I want you to do this again…”

“You don’t. Trust me.”

“Shh!” You said, placing your index finger on his lips. Pink, perfectly shaped, and so damn kissable. “Don’t tell me what I want. You ignored me ever since you walked into my house without my permission and shoved your fingers inside me. I was walking around town believing I wasn’t good enough for big old Joel Miller. What did you say? That you’ve been experiencing longer than I’ve been alive?”

You raised an eyebrow at him when he didn’t answer. Then he nodded reluctantly.

“Why were you coming in my panties then if I didn't measure up? ”

“I won’t do it ag—” he groaned when you grabbed his cock through his pants. He let out a low grunt and his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his neck as he swallowed. You replaced your index finger with your thumb, tracing his trembling lips as you lazily stroked his cock with your other thumb.

He filled your whole hand and there was still more. It took everything in you to not moan at the sheer size of him. To not grind your belly against it to feel it against you. You didn’t know how big it was supposed to be, but the romance novels you read always described the big ones as more desirable.

“I don’t want to hear excuses. I asked why. Why did you steal my panties, Joel Miller?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you come on it? Don’t fucking lie to me cause I can fucking smell you on it.”

“I did. I jerked off with it.” You had to choke back a moan at that. No, you had to be strong. Show him you could take the upper hand just like he did with you. You weren’t a little girl with a crush. You were a woman and you could have this effect on a grown man. You refused to be discounted with a pat on your pussy no matter how much you wanted him to touch you like that again.

“Mmm. And that’s enough to get you going. Just a pair of my panties.”

“Mhmm.”

“Show me how you did it.”

“What?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“Show. Me. How you did it.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, his hand coming up to stroke the base of his neck. “Wh-What?”

You felt your heart thud against your ribs and if you didn’t know from experience and your textbooks, you’d have been afraid that he could hear it. You’d never done anything so daring. You were the timid girl when it came to this stuff. That the thought even occurred to you was a testament to how much you desired Joel. Not just to sleep with any guy, but to have Joel. Without a word, you reached under the skirt of your dress and tugged your panties down.

He inhaled sharply as you bent down and came back up with your panties. Undyed white fabric, a little green ribbon in the shape of a bow stitched to the front, gusset a light gray from your wetness.

“Show me. I want to see what you were doing in your bathroom with my panties after ignoring me everyday,” you said, taking his hand and forcing the fabric into it. His hand curled around it and you found yourself feeling lighter. You didn't know how long you could keep up the brave front if he continued to have no response.

“Take your clothes off.”

It was like something changed the moment you gave him the garment. His eyes were on you, his gaze unrelenting. He took a step ahead and you stepped backward. His lips curled up in a smirk. It seemed playtime was over… Like a lion letting the cubs play at predation before taking over to show how hunting was really done.

You didn’t know if you were ready for that… Sure it was nothing he’d never seen before, but it was different. The last time, you didn’t do it with the intention to have him see you. He just happened to see you bare and you didn’t cover up when you realized.

“I don’t have a box full of dirty magazines. I need to see somethin’,” he said, his eyes going down your frame like they had every right to be there. “Or you could leave these,” he said, holding your panties up in front of your eyes, “and run back home. What d’ya say?”

You swallowed, your hands shaking as you reached behind to find the zipper of your dress. You weren’t going to run off. Not when you’d been desperate for so long to do something, anything with him. Cold air kissed your back as you pulled the zipper down and the hairs on your body stood up in full attention. You pushed the sleeves off your shoulder and shimmied out of the dress, standing in just your dress in front of him.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. He looked you up and down. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down. He radiated superiority, putting you in some kind of a daze. “Your bra too. Show me your tits.”

The crudeness had more wetness pooling between your legs. You nodded wordlessly, afraid that pathetic whimpers would be the only sound you’d make under his gaze. You reached behind and felt around for the clasp of your bra. With his eyes piercing into you, you failed to find it quickly like you usually did. Your mouth dried up, your tongue sticking to the roof.

He made no effort to help. A mocking smile assumed its place on his lips as he watched you struggle in front of him.

When you finally managed your task and stood fully naked, he stood up straight. His tongue darted out and licked his lips. You felt like a piece of meat placed in front of a starving man. Just seconds ago, you were telling yourself you didn’t need his approval, that this would just be revenge. But as he evaluated your body, your pussy wept with the need for your body to be nothing but what he liked.

“Room’s that way.” He nodded in the direction of the room. You turned around and took small steps, your shoulders curling inward and your head bowed in submission. Every inch of your skin burned with the strength of his gaze.

“Kneel.”

You placed your knee on his bed, ready to climb up.

“On the floor.”

One knee still on his white sheets, you turned around to look at him. He was so large. Imposing. The kind of figure you would follow without question. So, you did.

“You look pretty on your knees.”

He took a few steps towards you, stopping when the distance had your neck straightening to look up at him. Large, powerful, imposing. Another step and you were face-to-face with his crotch. His bulge was right there.

“Go on, take it out. Since you wanted it so bad.”

Joel didn’t think you would do it. You looked even smaller kneeling at his feet. Meek little thing. He didn’t at all expect you to taunt him the way you did. Especially after you threatened to tell on him to Maria. He fully expected you to start crying. Guess he really underestimated you. Virgin didn’t necessarily mean innocent.

Yet you folded as soon as he took the reins. He saw the change in you right when he told you to take your clothes off. When your eyes went from determined to defeated. All that spunk evaporated to reveal the little girl underneath. He liked it like that. Made him feel like a real man. Not that there was any scarcity of masculinity in his life of taking out clickers and defending this town. But somethin’ about a beautiful woman accepting his authority did the trick faster than every other display of masculinity.

Your hands fiddled with his belt, trembling as you tried to take it off. He stopped you with a hand on your wrist. “Just undo the zip.”

No way he was going to get naked in front of a pretty little twenty something. It wasn’t anything great to look at even before he began a life of violence and traversing the wilderness. Sure he was well built from all the hard physical labor and constant fight for survival. It’d left several unappealing scars on his person. Time had done a number on him too. Especially his pudgy belly. It didn’t help that food flowed free in Jackson, fattening him up a little.

Thankfully, you listened. You looked up, as though you expected him to complete the task for him. He challenged you with a look. Wanna be a big girl so bad, act like one.

You reached inside his pants and took his cock out. Your lips parted and he heard you inhale through your mouth. His cock hung in front of him, hard from your teasing. He had to give it to you, you were daring for a meek little thing. No one in town would believe him if he told them all that you’d done. And he suspected he didn’t even know the half of it.

“Not too late to back out, you know?” he said, wrapping his hand around himself. It took everything in him to give you an out. As much as he wanted to grab your face, force your mouth open and make you gag around him, he was man enough to let you know you didn’t have to do anything. Young girl probably bit more than you could swallow. And seeing his cock and your mouth so close by showed that he was definitely nothing you could swallow.

“I’m not backing out.”

“First time seeing one?”

“Of course not. I work at the clinic. You think I haven’t seen a penis?”

“No anatomical terms. I ain’t your patient. Go on, touch my cock.”

You reached up for him, but he stepped back, delighting himself in the disappointment on your face. “Come on, you want a man so bad, work for it.”

You moved to stand up. “Did I say you could stand up?”

“No.”

“Then get back on your fucking knees.”

You dropped to your knees and he groaned in satisfaction. The euphoria of wielding power over someone rushed through his veins. And he wanted more. It was the same sick satisfaction he got when he beat men to death. When he broke bones and dressed animals he hunted in the wild. “Good girl. You’re going to listen to what I say. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Fuck! That fucking word again.

“Come on, come get it. Hands and knees. Crawl to me.”

He beckoned you forward with one hand, his other still on his cock. You bent over and god fucking damnit, you were a vision. You were an eager girl and he could see what you could become in the right hands. His hands. The things he could show you… Introduce you to your own body. Bring you pain and pleasure that were indistinguishable.

Your tits hung from your chest, swaying as you crawled towards him. Feverish, bright eyes followed him as he continued to refuse what you wanted. Too fucking late. He warned you. Told you men like him weren’t for pretty little things like you. But you didn’t fucking want to listen. Now you’d have to deal with the consequences. Maybe you’d stay away then.

“Please, Sir,” you whined so prettily he almost gave in.

“What are you begging for?”

“You. Y-your penis.”

“My cock,” he corrected. “Say it.”

“Your cock, Sir.”

“Good girl. C’mere,” he said, giving you a nod to come closer. You crawled to him and when he didn’t back away, sat up on your knees. He placed his hand on the back of your neck and gripped your hair, making you hiss. Holding you in place, he brought his cock to your face. You looked up at it, your eyes widening and your mouth slackening. You brought your hand up and touched his tip with just your thumb. The rest of your hand followed, wrapping around him. He gasped silently as you stroked his slit with your thumb, making him leak precum on you.

“Did…? Did you?”

“No. Gotta do more ‘n that to make me come. That’s precum.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t think you knew what precum was. Probably not the focus of your education here. Not the most important thing when townsfolk came in injured after patrols or suffering from a fever that was life threatening without the medicines of the past.

He pressed his cock against your cheek. The sight presented a visual of how you’d struggle if you took him in your mouth. He’d have you choking on him before you even took half. He twitched against your face at the mere thought. You were the picture of innocence, even with his cock on your face. Even with the stunt you pulled before he put you back in your place.

“Think I’ll just do this. Fuck your pretty face.”

You whimpered, spurring him on. He wanted to force himself inside you, punish your mouth for having the gall to speak to him the way you did. Make you cry from how full of him you were. Give you a sore throat so when you spoke to him again, you’d remember to speak with respect. But you wouldn’t be able to handle it. So he’d settle for defiling your sweet features, hold his cock against your cheek and rut like the animal he was.

“I ain’t gonna lay you out on my bed and take you nice and slow. I’m just gonna use you. ‘s what men like me do.”

He pulled away, giving you another opportunity to rethink this. “You can put your fucking clothes on and leave if you don’t like it.”

To his surprise, you stayed put on your knees. You shook your head before reaching up and rubbing your cheek against his cock. You let out a soft moan, eyes closed and your thighs pressed together tight. “No, no. I like it.”

“Fuckin’ slut,” he said, his hand back in your hair. He tugged at it and took his cock in his other hand. He tapped your lips with his tip, smearing the precum that leaked out of him. “You like an older man using your face like it’s a pussy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He snorted, amused. “Never met a virgin slut before. Getting your face fucked before your pussy. Bet you’re wet from this.”

There was the sweet little whimper from you again. He wanted to hear more of it. Trap you underneath him and make you weep and cry and whimper as he split you in half.

“Let me see. Touch your pussy, show me your slick.”

You obeyed, spread your knees and touched yourself. Your hand glistened under the light of his bedroom, your wetness stretching between your fingers in strings. “Goddamn, would you look at that…” he said in a low rumble. “Rub it on my cock.”

Your hand trembled slightly and you stared at him with a blank look in your eyes. He guided your hand to his cock, withdrawing his hand when he’d brought you close enough so you could decide whether you wanted to follow his command. You touched your slickened hand to his cock, covering him in the evidence that you wanted this. Wanted him. You reached between your legs and brought more of yourself, eyes soft yet glazed with lust as you smeared yourself all over his length.

“Ask me for it.”

“Please,” you whined.

“Please, what?”

“P-please fuck my face. Sir.”

He returned his cock to your cheek, your wetness lubricating your face. Hand cradling his cock, he began to thrust. It wasnt much different from fucking his own fist. It was just skin. Not the tight velvety wetness of a pussy or a throat that would gag with his thickness. But your face was softer than his gun callused hands. Even better was your pretty face, looking up at him so adoringly… So full of desire.

He didn’t have to let his imagination do the trick now. Not when you were right in front of him, lending yourself for his use. And no imagination, no memory did justice to you. Your body. Scarred, but beautiful. Tits that filled his large hands, clean and styled hair, a belly that showed you were well fed. He wanted to lay you out on his bed and consume you. Take your tits in his mouth, grab handfuls of your ass, spread your cunt lips and lodge himself inside you. Give it to you hard so your thigh jiggled and you felt them ache as they rubbed against each other when you walked around in your pretty little dresses.

But as depraved as he was, he knew he shouldn’t be the first to take you. He’d have you just this once. Store your image in his head to get off with for as long as his dick worked. You acted all brave, but he couldn’t shake off that you were still inexperienced. The first time was meant to be good. The world was no longer normal, but you could have normality within the insular walls of Jackson.

Even this was wrong. Using you like this instead of making sweet love to you. But he hadn’t been that man in a long time. He was selfish and cruel. If there was no town, no community where everyone knew everyone and you still threw yourself at him, he would’ve taken you in all your holes with no hesitation. Ruined you, kept you until your body wasn’t of use and tossed you aside. But being in this semi-normal place had gotten its claws into him. Softened him up.

He grew closer to the edge embarrassingly quickly, the haze of carnal pleasure beginning to muffle the voices screaming in his head to let you go. He only barely noticed that you were touching yourself. Enjoying this treatment of you. That spurred him on. There was no stopping now.

You let out soft moans, your eyes never once leaving him. He struggled to get himself to focus. To check for any signs you didn’t want this. But all he saw was you on the precipice of pleasure. The world disappeared. His house, Jackson, the darkness that lay beyond. It was all him now. He felt lighter, like he would float out through the window and everything he’d ever been through would disappear. Every ounce of goodness quietened down, the last shreds of his morality discarded with your dress. He grunted and moaned your name as he kept fucking you. Your features morphed into nothingness. No longer a face, no longer a human woman. All he knew was the ache in his body, the tightness that begged to be released.

He slapped a hand against the wall as his thighs stiffened and every muscle in the vicinity of his cock tightened. He took himself back in his hand and stroked himself over your face. Once, twice, and thr– mid stroke, he growled and spilled on your face, coating your innocent features in sticky white cum. You flinched as the first stream hit, screwing your eyes shut. He wanted to make you look, see how he could defile you, show you that he wasn’t for you. Force you to confront what you’d allowed into your life so you’d run and never look back.

But all he could do was keep stroking as he came down from his high. It was unlike anything he’d had in the recent past. Not his imagination, not just his hand. A real human woman who wasn’t just a convenience. One who sought him out, stripped for him, and let him use her face like a toy.

He took a minute to collect his breath and let his senses return to him. His cock hung semi-hard outta his jeans, like it could go again if he willed it. Like it wasn’t almost six decades old. But he wasn’t too surprised. He could go again for the utterly debauched girl in front of him. Innocence eclipsed by milky white ropes of his cum. Without thinking twice, he grabbed your hair and pulled at it. You yelped, but let him pull you up from the ground and drag you to the other side of the room.

He stopped you in front of his mirror, and slapped your hand off your pussy before replacing it with his. “Look at yourself. I fucking told you,” he said, forcing two thick fingers inside your cunt. You sucked him in with little resistance, your cunt leaking enough for him to force a third finger inside you. You gasped and tried to wriggle away, but he wasn’t having it. He was a fucking monster, but he would never leave a woman unsatisfied. Especially a young thing who’d never had anyone else before.

He wrapped his free hand around your throat, his half hard cock begging him to go again when he felt the vibrations of your moans. “I warned you,” he whispered into your ear. “Fuckin’ warned you. Told you how starved I was. And you still taunted me. Look at you now!”

“Please… Please, Joel! Sir, please…”

“Fuckin’ slut. Maybe you ain’t really a virgin.”

“I am, I am, I promise. I wa–” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he pressed his thumb on your clit.

“What was that?”

You made some incoherent noises, too far gone to form words. Yet you managed to thrust onto his fingers and roll your hips like a real natural.

“Joel…”

“I know, pretty girl… I know,” he cooed, the softness in his voice contradicting how he’d used you just minutes prior. Contradicting the cum on your pretty little face.

“You gonna come for me? Give me another one after you came so sweetly on my fingers that day?”

There were no answers from you. Not even an acknowledgement that you heard him. Just whines and moans as you let him support your entire weight. Your head lolled back on his shoulder and your eyes rolled back into your skull as he fucked you stupid with just his fingers. Oh the things he could do with his cock… Reach deeper, take the virginity you’d held on to for so long. If he ever had you, he would never let go. He was too selfish a man to willingly lose a girl so precious after taking her cunt.

You gripped him like a vice, so tight he couldn't pry his fingers out. Something that vaguely sounded like his name spilled from your lips as you crumpled in his arms. Your pussy pulsated around you as he held you against him, unwilling to remove himself from you so quickly.

He withdrew your panties from his pocket– the fresh pair you took off in his fucking hallways like it was no big deal. He wiped your face with it the same way he cleaned up your cunt that day. Instead of tucking it in his pocket, he forced it into your hand.

“Put it on. Your fucking dress, too. Hope you learned you fucking lesson.”

As you put it on and scampered away naked into his hallways, he hoped it would be enough to scare you away. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he would always crave you like an addict craving a drink.

⌘

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