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prythiansfavoritefox · 19 hours

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Elain focused on her breathing, trying to steady them. 1, 2, 3. She had had the dream again. The dream that was not a dream, but an unfortunate reality she had to relive every time she fell asleep.

Her father, who had died in front of their very eyes. Her father who had been depressed and disabled for much of his life, but came back to fight for them in the end. Who had been so heartlessly murdered by the King of Hybern.

She took a shaky breath as the tears began to fall down her face. She missed her father so badly, but she could not speak to this with her sisters, who had resented him greatly. And she understood, she really did, but...it would be nice to speak to someone who truly loved him for once.

Alas, there was no one to speak to but a cold grave. Getting up, Elain brushed her hair, sweeping it into an elegant bun. She hesitated, looking at the coat in the closet before deciding she didn't have the strength to fight her need for comfort. She threw on the coat, savoring the lingering scents on it.

Nobody else appeared to be awake. Good. She wished to take this journey alone without being followed or questioned. She wasn't stupid; she knew Nuala and Cerridwen had been set on her to keep track of her movements. Well, there was little she could do to counter that. At least she could befriend them and try to get them on her side so she could gain benefits.

The entire Inner Circle would probably faint with shock if they saw that Elain had taken such a long journey on her own two feet. It's not proper for a lady to walk this far! She's too delicate to walk this much! Pahhh. They always seemed to forget that they would all be dead were it not for her killing the King of Hybern. It wasn't something she much liked to talk about because of her aversion to violence, but some days she wished to scream it so that they'd think she's actually worth something.

Hell, Cassian would be dead too were it not for her. He had lost so much blood due to the shredded wings that he had been inches away from death. Elain had used her healing powers on him, and Cassian, half-delirious with blood loss, had not realized what she'd done. Not even Elain knew how she'd done it, considering when Feyre had been bleeding and dying months later, she had been unable to summon the powers again, no matter what she did.

The only good thing about that was that Nesta had managed to save them and the Inner Circle didn't know about her raw magic, otherwise they would find a way to use her too. No, better they think her a useless silly little thing.

As she walked towards the headstone, to her surprise, she already found somebody there, kneeling beside him. For a wild moment, Elain thought that it might be Nesta. She knew she had somewhat made her peace with him recently, so it wasn't entirely out of the realm. She began to run towards her father's resting spot, crying out, "Nesta!" The person beside the grave turned around. Elain's words died in her throat.

"You're-you're not Nesta." Way to be fucking obvious, Elain. But she could hardly think with him near her. When she wasn't dreaming of her father's death and stabbing the King of Hybern, she was dreaming of him.

Well, shit. She was wearing the cloak Lucien had given her that day by the Cauldron. How embarrassing. Her face went beet red as Lucien's eyes focused on her, taking note of her bare legs and the cloak around her shoulders. Her body began to pulse everywhere from her chest to between her legs, and she knew Lucien could hear it. She clenched her hands in her dress, resisting the urge to grab him at that very moment and kiss him senseless. That would be highly inappropriate; they were at her father's grave, for god's sake.

"Elain," he said so quietly she almost didn't hear it, leaping to his feet and bowing to her. "Apologies, lady. I shall leave you to grieve in peace."

Elain grabbed his wrist as he was about to leave. How could she have forgotten? He'd known her father. He'd gone to the continent and brought him back based on her vision. "Please," she breathed. "Stay."

Lucien looked at her hand then back into her eyes. "Ok," he said slowly. He lowered himself down to the grave again, Elain going with him. They sat there in comfortable silence for some time before Elain whispered, "You knew him. My father."

"Yes, I knew Tristan. He was a good man, at least in the time I knew him," he replied. "Feyre never seemed too fond of him, though."

Elain sighed. "Feyre and Nesta never forgave him for leaving us to fend for ourselves during poverty."

"Well, I can't blame them." Elain opened her mouth to protest, but he went on. "But he'd lost his wife and could hardly walk. I don't blame him for hurting either. He tried his best, in the end, to do right by you girls."

Elain nodded. "Poor Papa. Feyre and Nesta were always snapping at him for making his little wood carvings instead of finding a way out of poverty. Perhaps if they'd been a little gentler with him, he might have..." a sigh. "Anyway, he's gone now."

Lucien squeezed her hand. "No one dies as long as their reputation lasts." Elain snorted lightly. "Are you some sort of philosopher or something?" Lucien raised his brows teasingly. "Maybe I am."

Elain couldn't resist smiling back. "What was he like? Papa. With you."

Lucien smiled reminiscently. "He was a very single-minded person. He might have only been human, yet he could command a room with his voice. Very charming, very forthright. And he couldn't shut up about you girls." He laughed. "I remember when I finally told him that we're mates, he grilled me for hours. About my birth, my occupations, my habits. Internally I was terrified of disappointing him, but at the end he just handed me a drink and said, 'You don't look quite like the man I imagined my Elain will marry, but you certainly act like the man I want her to marry.' Then he told me stories about all your childhoods for the rest of the night."

Elain beamed. That sounded a lot more like her father before their family had been lost to poverty. It made her happy that her father was able to be more like himself with someone before he'd left. "Thank you for telling me this," she murmured. "It's nice to talk to someone who knew him as I did."

Lucien inclined his head. "Happy to be of service, my lady."

Elain leaned her head against his shoulder and did not move for a long time.

Inspired by the post I saw a while ago saying Lucien visits Papa Archeron's grave!

#lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien

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sbc-moved · 4 months

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IF. I. SPEAK.

Lord have mercy…..

My lips are sealed. I am not saying a WORDDDDD.

God I want him I mean what who said that

#please ignore this post #but if I did speak I would have something inappropriate to say #hey. hey. I’m just being real #IM SO SORRY FOR POSTING THIS #i’m so fucking sorry #I’ll stop #mario #self shipping #⭐️🍄you’re my superstar #♡.love letters #♡.after hours

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inkskinned · 7 months

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what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

#warm up #writeblr #this one has bothered me for a bit #any time a woman does something even passingly annoying we treat it like a fucking crime #hey man. women are allowed to be annoying. everyone forever is allowed to be passingly annoying #as long as they aren't hurting anyone/thing #like u wanna know something? i find it super annoying that men don't wear seatbelts #why arent there thousands of comments on driving videos thats just like : men try not to die in a car crash challenge #''this briefly annoyed me''. okay??????? AND????????????????? go get ur self a cookie and calm down about it #ur not entitled to control other ppl's experiences and emotions just so u can maintain ur own peace #if being briefly annoyed ruins ur whole day! you! need! therapy!!!!#men try not to become immediately angry about nothing challenge: level impossible #ps author is nonbinary. we didn't even get into the gender presentation thing #the fact men think it's SEXY that my voice is on the lower end....

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midnightcrw · 6 months

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Fight

Pairing: Ghost x Reader, Price x Reader, Soap x Reader, Gaz x Reader

Summary: Your child gets in trouble

a/n: This one is a little different from my usual ones, but I just felt like writing for all four of them. I'm not sure how accurate you'll all find them as I've deliberately exaggerated them, but I do believe that Gaz is a sassy man after seeing how he didn't want to shake Graves' hand. I've also named the children of the TF141, I hope that's okay with you all.

Scenario:

The moment you both heard that your child got in trouble, the first thing you two did was rush into the principal's office in fear that something happened.

And now you were both sitting in the principal's office with your child, while another child was there with his parents.

Ghost:

Your eyes widened as you heard the principal say that Daisy and another girl in her class had gotten into a physical fight.

"There was also something your daughter said that is completely unacceptable," Mr. Smith said, looking disappointed at Daisy, even though the girl apparently started the fight and your daughter was just defending herself.

"It wasn't even that bad..." Daisy muttered underneath her breath as she crossed her arms.

Simon was very quiet, but his stoic expression spoke for itself.

"Daisy, I want you to quote what you said," Mr. Smith continued, not wanting to hear another word from her unless she quoted exactly what she said to the girl.

Your daughter looked at you, a pleading look on her face but you just shook your head at her in disappointment, wanting to hear what she said.

She sighed and quoted what she had said before, "You have a face that only a mother could love."

Without missing a single beat, Simon started wheezing in his seat the moment he heard his daughter's insult to the girl.

You glared at him, "Simon!"

Trying to calm down, he put his palm on his mouth as he continued, completely ignoring the angry looks of the principal and the other family.

"Mr. Riley, I want you to calm down. This is highly inappropriate," Mr. Smith said as Simon calmed down.

A few seconds of silence passed between you all before your beloved husband opened his mouth.

"Did you win?"

"Simon!?"

Price:

It felt like hours as the girl's parents and the girl herself ranted and raved about the fact that your daughter Sophie punched her.

At first you had both been shocked, completely angry at your daughter until the parents opened their mouths to speak.

You almost fell asleep listening to the mother go on and on about how her daughter's nose was bleeding because of Sophie.

Price, on the other hand, sat still in his seat, listening to the whole thing, not having said a word since he walked into the principal's office.

"Your daughter should be suspended!" The father said, glaring at Sophie.

Mr. Smith didn't even get a single chance to say anything, as they continued.

Slowly, Price seemed to lose his patience and turned his head towards you and your daughter.

He whispered, "Punch her harder next time."

"What?" The principal asks.

"Nothing."

Price says as Sophie giggles at her dad.

You tried to stifle your grin by putting a hand over your mouth, just hoping that the parents would shut up soon.

Soap:

Your son sat between the two of you, his nose bleeding and his face bruised as he frowned at the boy and his parents.

You were extremely worried as you put a hand on your son, Callum's arm, and quietly asked him if he was hurt anywhere else.

Callum just shook his head, not wanting to speak while Soap was already getting bored listening to all of the talking the principal was doing.

"It doesn't matter if he started insulting him because Callum was the one who got violent," Mr. Smith said as you tried to defend your son.

The boy obviously looked much worse than Callum. His hair was disheveled and his face was bruised. His nose was also bleeding, as was his lower lip.

It looked like your son had done some damage.

"What exactly did he do?" Soap asked, wanting to know exactly how Callum had hit the boy.

As Mr. Smith explained what your son had done, Soap's eyes lit up and a smile appeared on his face.

"I'm so proud of you, you used the punch I taught you," Soap said, extremely pleased that Callum had listened and actually used the things he had taught him.

Callum grinned at his dad's antics as you put your face in your hands, sighing and muttering "Why did I marry this idiot..."

Gaz:

You were shocked to hear what your son, Ethan, had done to the boy.

Mr. Smith was obviously upset and angry that Ethan had acted so childishly, and immediately got into a physical fight the moment the boy wouldn't stop insulting him.

You felt the headache already pounding in your head as you rubbed your temple, completely out of it.

Ethan didn't really say anything, he just listened to everything that was said.

The boy's parents glared at the three of you, never once looking away.

The boy that insulted your son, looked angry, obviously still being pissed at the fact that Ethan punched him, even though he himself started with the insults.

Gaz was not even shocked, sitting there with his hand holding up his head up as he looked extremely uninterested in the principal's endless speech.

Rolling his eyes, Gaz moved closer to you and Ethan as he whispered.

"Did you break any of his bones?"

"No."

"Good, because I'm not paying anything in this economy."

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kenjakusbraincum · 5 months

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can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna #soft sukuna #i love bastardizing sukuna in my fics #also this is totally leading me into a part 2 w reincarnated reader #yes weve heard it a thousand times #idc it makes me happy

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leviismybby · 3 months

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"Pregnant?" Connie's mouth drops as you and Levi make the announcement. You kept your pregnancy a secret for long enough and your belly was starting to show too much, they would've figured it out anyway. Sasha stops eating, her eyes go wide, Jean next to her tries not to smile, he definitely wants to say something inappropriate. Before he gets the chance to, Armin speaks. "Congratulations captain and name!" He smiles at both of you. The tension at the table was awkward as you knew that some of them didn't even know you and Levi were dating.

Mikasa doesn't say anything but you can see the slight smile on her face meanwhile Eren looks like he is having some sort of flashbacks. "Congrats." He says, his green eyes shifting from his food to your belly, which makes you question a few things but you smile back and nod your head at him. "You know Captain for humanity's strongest soldier you sure don't know how to pull-ow!" Sasha stomps on Connie's foot under the table and Jean laughs. "Be mature for once will you!" The brunette says to him with her mouth full of food. Levi rolls his eyes at the banter, he really didn't want to tell them. It's not because he doesn't trust them but he thinks that it's safer for you and your baby if less people knew.

"You're the one to talk! Your mouth is full of food." Connie bites back at Sasha and she just continues to eat. Mikasa turns to you. "Congratulations. I still don't know how you keep up with him." She says, her and Levi did have a bumpy relationship but you know that she doesn't mean it in a bad way. "Well now I will have to keep up with two..." You chuckle. "Can we name it?" Jean asks. "Absolutely not." Levi doesn't even let him think about it. "And from now I want you all to be careful around name, is that clear?" They all nod at Levi's command.

"It's a boy." Eren says, he has been awfully quiet since you said that you were expecting a child, the whole table turned to look at him. "I mean, I think it's going to be a boy." He says, looking down at his food. Sasha shakes her head. "Nuh uh, it's definitely a girl!" They all start to place bets and Levi sighs, he whistles to get their attention. "You're not betting on a the gender of my fucking child. Now, after breakfast, I want to see all of you train extra hard understood?" "Yes, captain!" They all say in unison, Armin sheepishly looks at you. "I agree with Eren, I think it's a boy. I read that boys leave all the beauty to the mother and you're glowing Name." You smile at him, Armin always was sweet, well most of the time.

"Right, can you guys please keep this a secret? We don't want everyone to know." It's a simple request that leaves your mouth. They all nod, this went better than you thought it would, most of them are happy but Eren's reaction lingers at the back of your mind. "Listen when the little Ackerman terror is born, can I be the godfather?" That's a question that throws Levi off guard, especially since Jean asked it. "No, I want to be the godfather! That baby deserves someone fun as the godfat-" "Neither of you." Levi says, pinching the area between his eyes. "Now, off to training." Standing up one by one they all make their way outside, Mikasa approaches you. "If you need anything you can let me know." She says and you can't help but smile at her. "Thank you, Mikasa."

As the room clears, Levi turns to you. "I am surprised that none of them asked how kids are made." Laughing at these words, you shake your head. "They are all 17-18, Levi. They know all too well by now." You can still remember how traumatized Eren and Mikasa were when they found out, to your surprise, that Armin knew despite his two confused best friends. "Yeah well, all of them are still brats." He kisses your temple and then your belly. "I'll see you two later." He gives you a quick kiss before heading out to training. Your hand goes down to your belly and you rub the bump, in this time of war and hardship, a baby will surely bring at least a bit of happiness into it all.

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whatacaitastrophe · 2 months

Text

Just About Snapped

Summary: Gale stands up to Mystra when she summons him to the Stormshore Tabernacle and is so jacked up on Mountain Dew after that public sex ensues. (he’s not drinking mountain dew i’m just quoting talladega nights)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Female)

AO3 Link: Here

Warnings: Public Sex, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Porn with Plot, inappropriate use of Arcane Lock, time works the way I say it works, let me live, You've heard of Astarion fucking on his own grave, but have you considered: Gale fucking on an altar dedicated to Mystra as a fuck you?

When Elminster showed up the moment they walked out of Sorcerer’s Sundries with The Annals of Karsus in Gale’s pack, Fallon had to laugh. The goddess of magic had all but ignored Gale for more than a year, and now she was sending Elminster on her behalf twice in the span of a fortnight; and this time, she wanted to speak to Gale herself.

“How could she possibly know we read a book?” Fallon asked Gale once Elminster departed.

“Trust me, by even opening the book containing the type of magic The Annals of Karsus contains, we basically set off a giant firework that spelled out ‘look at me, Mystra!’ Trust me. She knows.” Gale explained bitterly.

Fallon reached for Gale’s hand, squeezing it softly. “If you don’t want to go see her, we don’t have to. You don’t owe her anything, Gale.”

“No, this conversation is long overdue. On both sides. It shouldn’t take long.” He sighed.

According to Gale, time worked differently in the Outer Planes, and he should only be gone for a matter of seconds, even if his conversation with Mystra lasted hours for him.

That was almost three hours ago.

Had Mystra manipulated time so however much time passed for her and Gale, also passed here, on the mortal plane of existence? Honestly, with how vindictive she was, Fallon wouldn’t put it past Mystra to do something like that. The goddess had been watching them, so clearly she knew that Gale was romantically involved with someone else. Hells, she’d probably known since the moment Fallon and Gale played in the Weave together in the early days of their journey together. After all, Fallon hadn’t been subtle by imagining kissing Gale. Was she such a bitter scorned ex-lover that she would drag this out, just to fuck with Fallon as well?

Somehow, Fallon wouldn’t put it past her.

“What if she’s done something to him?” Fallon wondered aloud frantically as she began to pace in front of the statue of the goddess she did not serve.

“I highly doubt that,” Astarion mused as he picked at some dirt beneath his fingernails. “Based on what the old codger said, it sounds like she needs something else from Gale since he refused to blow himself up.” The vampire was sitting on the floor of The Stormshore Tabernacle beneath the statue of Selune next to Shadowheart, a position they’d taken after Gale had been gone for five minutes. That was about how long it took for them all to realize that even if Gale thought the conversation shouldn’t take long, Mystra might have other ideas.

They’d been waiting for Gale to come back from the Outer Planes for so long that the sun was setting on Baldur’s Gate. Another half hour went by, and Astarion and Shadowheart had begun looking at each other skeptically. Fallon wouldn’t put it past the two of them to be communicating mind to mind via the tadpole connection. She stopped pacing, folded her arms across her chest, and stared at the cleric and the vampire. “If you want to leave, you can. I’ll be fine.”

If Gale didn’t come back soon, Fallon was not going to be fine, not even close, but if hearing her say that she would be fine was the permission her friends needed to assuage their guilt for wanting to leave, then Fallon would tell them what they wanted to hear. Shadowheart looked at Fallon, a soft look in her eyes. “He knows where to find us, Fallon. I’m sure he’ll come straight home once–”

“I’m not leaving.” Fallon interrupted, her tone short and she glared at her friend for even suggesting it.

“Let it go, Shadowheart. She’ll come back when she’s ready. With or without Gale.” Fallon hated the look on Astarion’s face, because he clearly thought Gale wasn’t coming back. Not tonight, and perhaps not at all. Fallon frowned as she took a seat beneath the statue of the goddess of magic.

“I’m not leaving.” She repeated simply. Astarion raised his hands in defeat, and Shadowheart shook her head, but the two of them left all the same.

Another half hour went by.

What if Astarion was right? What if Gale wasn’t coming back? Had they made a huge mistake by heeding Elminster’s request and coming here? From everything Gale had told Fallon about the archmage, she had no reason to believe that he would willingly lead Gale into a trap. However, there was every reason to believe that Mystra wouldn’t send Elminster to fetch Gale under false pretenses just to get Gale to the Outer Planes.

It was dark outside when the cleric overseeing the temple approached Fallon. “I am departing for the evening, madam. You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like, but it will be just you and the gods until your friend returns.” He offered Fallon a gentle smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. A warm feeling flooded Fallon’s body as a soft golden light emitted from the cleric’s palm.

“A blessing, to keep you safe while you wait.”

Somehow Fallon doubted she would be attacked here, but if she were, it wouldn’t be the strangest place the Absolutists ambushed her recently, so she was grateful for the blessing all the same. Fallon nodded in thanks to the cleric as she pulled her knees in towards her chest and rested her head on them as she wrapped her arms around herself as he used his magic to dim the lights. If she was going to be here all night, she might as well try to get some sleep.

Within minutes of the cleric’s departure, there was a flash of purple light and Fallon’s head snapped up. Gale, her sweet, wonderful Gale, came tumbling out of a portal with such force that Fallon couldn’t help but wonder if Mystra had physically shoved him out, or if he’d been leaning against something and she moved it out from under Gale to send him back. At the sight of him, relief flooded her body and Fallon let out a strangled sob as she shot to her feet and ran to embrace Gale.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m here,” Gale said softly into her hair as he held her tightly, running one of his hands over the back of her head as he held her tight with the other. “I’m here.”

Fallon lifted her head to look at Gale, searching his eyes for an explanation. “What the hells happened, Gale? You were gone all day.”

His voice was bitter as he kissed her forehead. “I know, Mystra told me as much before sending me back. I hate that she took out her ire with me on you like that.”

Fallon looked up at Gale, refusing to let him go. “I had a feeling it might not be going well based on how long you were gone.”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Another bitter laugh left Gale’s mouth. He kissed the crown of Fallon’s head and rested his chin atop it as she rested her cheek against his chest. “Would you believe me if I told you she seemed more upset about my relationship with you than she was about our plans for The Crown of Karsus?”

Fallon scoffed and poked his side playfully. “Be serious, Gale.”

“I am being serious, Fallon,” Gale squirmed as she poked a slightly ticklish spot, and it gave him a reason to pull back from her enough to look at Fallon as he continued. “You’ve shown me that love isn’t transactional, or something one has to constantly prove they are worthy of receiving, and because of that, I’ve openly defied Mystra’s direct marching orders. Twice. First by not detonating the orb at Moonrise Towers, and again the moment I decided the Crown of Karsus was not Mystra’s to control. The bruises I left on her ego are far more devastating to her than the thought of my becoming her equal will ever be.”

Fallon reached up and cupped the side of Gale’s face in her hand. “This goes without saying, but I am very proud of you for standing up to her. I don’t think the Gale Dekarios that I pulled out of the broken sigil in a rock would have been able to. You’ve come a long way, Gale.”

Gale smiled as he covered Fallon’s hand with his own and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He leaned in and kissed her the way she’d imagined in the Weave the night he’d invited her to play with magic early on in their courtship: slowly at first, then with passion. Fallon sighed into his mouth as she parted her lips for him and slid her tongue against his lower lip, and he responded in kind with a soft moan as his hands gripped her hips. They were moving, and when Fallon felt a hard surface against her backside she broke the kiss to take in her surroundings. Gale had maneuvered their bodies in such a way that Fallon was now leaning against the edge of the altar dedicated to none other than Mystra herself. A sly grin spread on her face as she turned her attention back to Gale, and she was met with an equally devilish loon in her wizard’s eyes.

Fallon did not need to ask or peer into his mind with the connection their tadpoles afforded them to know what Gale wanted, or what he intended to do, and Fallon was suddenly very grateful she’d chosen to wear the deep blue grecian wrap dress that Figaro at Facemaker’s had talked her into purchasing. The idea of potentially being caught shot a thrill through Fallon’s body, but thanks to the dress, at least this way some of her modesty would be preserved if that ended up being the case.

Gale’s mouth moved from her lips to her neck and across her shoulder, and Fallon braced herself on the altar’s edge with her hands as she sighed approvingly. His exploration of her body continued south as Gale pressed his face directly between her breasts to kiss her sternum while one of his hands deftly slipped beneath the fabric to toy with her breast before pushing the fabric to the side just far enough for Gale to capture her exposed flesh in his mouth. Fallon moaned as she felt Gale’s tongue roll over the peaked bud before he bit down gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue once more. There was little urgency in the way Gale moved as his other hand slipped between her legs and he pressed his fingers against her core over the cloth, and Fallon whimpered.

“Gale…time is not really on our side here...” Fallon reminded him. Though if she were being honest, her pleading tone had nothing to do with the potential of getting caught and everything to do with her need for Gale to give her more than just teasing touches.

Gale released her breast from his mouth and looked at her with a look of innocence on his face that did not reach his eyes. No, there was nothing but pure mischief residing in the expressive brown hues she’d come to adore with everything she had. Fallon’s heart flipped in her chest, and her knees wobbled under his gaze. “Whilst I am not worried about any late night intruders, I see where your concerns lie, so allow me to make an offering as a gesture to your comfort.” Gale removed his hand from between her legs and waved it precisely in the direction of the front door of the Stormshore Tabernacle, and Fallon heard the faint clicking sound of the lock falling into place.

“There. Though, I will say, any person capable of breaking through the Arcane Lock I just placed on the door would be rather deserving of the opportunity to witness me worship a goddess far more worthy of my devotion than any other deity in this temple.” Gale sank to his knees, spreading Fallon’s legs to settle between them and parting the folds of her dress to expose her lower half to the elements. Fallon gathered the excess fabric in her hand and rested it on the altar behind her so it pooled at the goddess of magic’s feet, and Fallon had honestly never felt more powerful.

Gale’s hands roamed up her legs and thighs until they reached her undergarments. Without a word, Gale hooked his fingers beneath the hem and tugged them down to her ankles and carefully lifted each of Fallon’s feet so he could remove them. They were soaked with her arousal, and Gale smirked as he took notice before tucking the evidence into the pocket of his robes, but he said nothing.

“I’m surprised Gale, you normally have something to say about the state I’m in when you take off my clothes. No waxing poetic, today?” Fallon teased, unable to recall the last time her normally verbose wizard was so silent.

Gale looked up at her, his smirk still very much present on his face as he reached for her leg to drape it over his shoulder. “Do you mind, Fallon? I’m trying to pray.”

Fallon opened her mouth to make a snappy retort, but the words died in her throat and were replaced with moan; for no sooner had he asked for her silence, she felt Gale’s mouth against her center as he licked a long stripe before closing his mouth around her clit and lavishing it with his tongue. She whispered an expletive and gripped the edge of the altar, her knuckles white with effort as Gale devoured her, his strong hands gripping her thighs to hold her in place.

Fallon’s head fell back as she whimpered with pleasure. She opened her eyes for a moment, and Fallon could have sworn the statue of Mystra was looking down at her with a glare. Whether that was actually the case or not, Fallon stuck her tongue out at the statue in a taunting manner anyway. Knowing Gale loved Fallon enough not only to defy Mystra was enough to make her feel a little smug, but the fact that Gale loved her so deeply that he was willing to commit sins of the flesh with her against an altar devoted to his ex-lover? Mystra could come down from Elysium and smite them where they stood (or kneeled, Gale’s case), and Fallon would die a happy woman.

Gale slid two fingers inside of her and she stifled another moan, raising her hips toward the wizard, urging him to go deeper. Instead, Gale stopped what he was doing and lifted his head to look up at her as she made a noise of disapproval. “My love, why are you holding back?” He asked her before kissing her inner thigh.

“I didn’t want to disturb your prayers.” Fallon goaded him.

Gale raised an eyebrow at his lover and pressed another kiss to her inner thigh as his fingers began slowly moving inside of her again. “That your voice is not echoing off the walls of this temple means I’m not praying hard enough, dearest. I can’t have any of the other deities questioning my devotion to you, now can I?”

With that, Gale went back to work, lapping at her clit with his tongue and his fingers moved inside of her. Fallon moaned, and this time, she did not hold back, her sounds of approval only pushed Gale forward. He began to devour her cunt eagerly, almost desperately until the only word Fallon knew how to say was his name. When Fallon finally came, her vision blurred as she cried out in ecstasy, legs shaking as she clung to the altar beneath her for support. Gale remained dutifully between her legs with his mouth and fingers touching her until the spasms subsided and he was certain she’d been fully satisfied. Then Gale was on his feet and fumbling with his trousers beneath his robes and Fallon watched hungrily as his erection sprang free when Gale pushed his trousers down just far enough to release his cock.

Fallon moved to reach for Gale’s cock, ready to drop to her knees for the wizard and return the favor, but Gale shook his head, bracing her shoulder with the hand not gripping his cock to keep her in place. “As much as I adore the vision of you taking me in your mouth for all the gods to see, I’d much rather them watch me fuck you against this altar, if that’s alright?”

Fallon’s jaw went slack as she stared at Gale, his eyes dark and desperate with need for her, and she couldn’t help but let out a single, short laugh. “That is…more than alright,” Fallon hooked one of her legs around Gale’s hip and tugged him closer, taking his length in her hand and positioning it at her entrance. “Show them all how good you make me feel. How good we look together.”

Gale groaned as he kissed Fallon, pushing inside her quickly with a snap of his hips. Fallon shuddered with pleasure as Gale filled her, and she wrapped her other leg around his hip, pushing him deeper inside of her. Gale leaned down to kiss and bite her neck, moaning as he started thrusting his hips, setting a rough pace. “Gods, Gale, I love how well you fuck me,” Fallon moaned, removing her hands from the edge of the altar to wrap them around Gale’s neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well, my love.”

Fallon was balancing precariously on the edge of the altar now, and she held on tightly to Gale to keep from slipping. Mercifully, Gale took notice of this fact and in one swift movement, he lifted her up and away from the altar, the skirt of her dress cascading down around her, and she whined at the loss of him as Gale’s cock slipped out of her as they moved. Fallon thought Gale might be relocating them to the wall next to Mystra’s altar, but instead, Gale carefully sank to his knees and gently laid Fallon on the temple floor.

The cool stone was welcome against the heat of her body, and she released Gale’s hips from the grasp of her legs, settling them on either side of him. Fallon looked up at Gale with a look of pure adoration. “I love you. More than you’ll ever know.” She reminded him, and Gale smiled at her in return.

Her wizard leaned forward and kissed her slowly. When he was ready, he pulled away from their kiss and pressed his forehead against Fallon’s. “You are the most magnificent woman I have ever had the great pleasure of knowing. To know you love me, and how much I love you in return…there will never be a greater feeling in the universe.”

Gale kissed her again as he repositioned himself between her legs and slid back home, his pace slower than before, deeper. This man wasn’t just fucking Fallon in front of an altar dedicated to his ex, he was making love to her: likely in a way he never got to experience with Mystra, if the stories he’d shared were any indication. The love she and Gale shared was the kind of love only mortals would ever understand. It was world-shattering, soul-bonding, life-altering love that many people would never be able to claim they’ve experienced, and Fallon felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have found that type of love in Gale.

The only sounds echoing off the walls of the temple now were those of their collective moans, and Fallon clung to Gale has she could feel her second orgasm in the edges of her body, rising quickly to the surface. “Gale— I’m not going to last much longer.” Fallon pleaded.

“Let go, dearest, I’ve got you.” Gale encouraged as his own movements became more erratic with each thrust.

“I want to go with you. Together.” Fallon requested and all Gale could do was nod as he picked up the pace.

Within moments, Fallon came with Gale’s name on her lips and he followed mere seconds behind her. They rode out the high together, holding each other close as they moved, until each of them had nothing left to give and Gale collapsed on top of her with a deep kiss.

Fallon couldn’t help but giggle into his mouth, smiling about what they’d just done. “Do you think when we go to the House of Hope that Raphael will just go ahead and show us to our room? Because surely we’ve just secured our spots in Avernus when we die for what we’ve just done.”

Gale laughed with her, and he kissed her nose. “Worth it.”

When they finally returned to the suite at The Elfsong Tavern, before anyone could ask about where Gale had been, Astarion took one look at them and made a disgusted sound. “Oh my gods, the two of you had sex in that bloody temple didn’t you?”

Fallon’s jaw slackened and Gale looked at Astarion guilty.

“How did you—“

“Even if you didn’t reek of sex, darling, go look in the mirror.”

Fallon immediately rushed to the closest mirror and gasped when she took in her reflection. She was a mess. Her hair was disheveled, her dress was barely on straight, and the love bites on her neck had begun to bruise. She caught Gale’s eye in the mirror’s reflection and grinned.

“Worth it.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #bg3 fanfic #female tav #gale x tav #bg3 smut #gale smut #baldur's gate 3 fan fiction #baldur's gate 3 smut #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 fan fiction #gale fanfic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

Aita for not taking down a jokey sign on my bathroom door when my parents came over?

Cw: talk of diarrhea. Not explicitly.

So I (21f)and 2 of my friends (20f,lets call her lilly and 23m, lets call him matt)moved into an apartment about 2 years ago and so far, everything has been good. We've been able to manage our bills, keep a clean home, I couldn't ask for better. We've known each other since middle school, there's ackward moments and small disagreements when Matt brings over his boyfriend (he almost always yells when he speaks and slams doors) but everything is generally all good.

Every apartment shared by more than one gen z is gonna have some quirks and ours is the "code brown" sign. Me and matt have IBS and occasionally have some mild to moderate.... Bowel problems and there's only one bathroom. Usually it's not a problem but there's been a few occasions where someone will be taking awhile scrolling tik Tok or whatever or taking a long shower and me or Matt have an issue.

Originally it was a group chat half joke warning that someone was having a "code brown" and no one could lolly gag in the restroom because one of us might be making trips. It became an inside joke and last year, lilly had a cheap small hanging sign made by some wood burner on Etsy that basically read on one side "All clear, private!" and on the other read "Code brown! Get going or get down!". It was hilarious and we hung it on the bathroom door and now use it unironically. All our friends enjoyed it, Matt's boyfriend loudly so but not so much my parents.

About a week ago, I finally allowed my parents to check out my place. They aren't super Christian like evangelicals but my dad has been going red pilled and more so by the day so I tried to make my apartment look less like it was shared by three liberals and wore something nice and cooked a nice dinner. I paid for lilly and matt to go catch a movie and some Wendy's on me so they'd be out of the house. All was good until my dad went to the bathroom and came back with the damn sign looking like his head was going to explode. He screamed at me that he thought I was an adult, that I was failing at getting my shit together (they don't pay for anything and i live on my own?) and I was a child for hanging up such a clearly inappropriate sign. My mom agreed, though much less Intensely and my dad proceeded to break the sign over his knee and chastise me for a good 20 minutes before grabbing his things, demanding an apology in a few days and leaving with my mom.

Once lilly and matt got home I apologized and offered to buy a new sign. Lilly and Matt were just happy nothing else was broken and I was ok. I did eventually apologize to my dad because I can see where a poop sign might be a little inappropriate for important company but tbh I forgot about it and I was so busy making dinner I didn't realize it was still up or I would of tossed it in my room and moved on. Lilly and Matt just say my dad has a stick up his ass and shouldn't of messed with the sign(it was flipped to the no code brown side so he had to flip it to see it).

Was i the asshole for not taking down a gag sign about poop when my parents came over?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

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turvi · 11 months

Text

Chicks Dig Bad Boys

Rodrick Heffley x Reader

According to Y/n, Rodrick was just another emo boy, a loser, a typical teenage dirtbag. At least, this is what she heard from Heather Hills. Y/n was shocked Heather even chose to talk to her. Not just because Heather is the 'it girl' of Westmore High School.

Y/n had cracked the code to deal with high school, and that was to avoid joining any kind of group and not get noticed by anyone. Even if you somehow develop a crush on someone, keep it a secret. So she was surprised when Heather sat beside her and decided to talk to her. Y/n merely shrugged her shoulder and nodded at appropriate times as she spoke, tuning out the blonde girl.

Of course, you were aware of the crush the boy was harbouring for Heather especially when he made a show of ruining Heather's birthday. Y/n saw it all happen and thought how Rodrick actually had a nice voice and had potential. So when Rodrick happened to sit beside her in the English class she off-handedly complimented his voice.

Y/n had expected him to give her a smug smile or make an inappropriate joke. What she didn't expect was to find a very flushed Rodrick who was trying to find the correct words to say to her. She couldn't believe her eyes. She never saw Rodrick become so flustered.

"Uh..th..thank you...it...it means a lot." Rodrick wanted to slap himself for speaking like forgot how to speak. Yeah sure he got a few claps and hollers when his band played but no one complimented his voice.

"Was that the first time you sang?" now she was intrigued. Rodrick looked up and saw a genuine smile on her face. He took a breath of relief. He had thought she was making fun of him.

"Uh..yeah. I only sing when we perform in my garage. I wanted to do something special for Heather. But clearly, it went wrong." he said as he ran his hand through his hair. Y/n almost extended her hand to fix his unruly hair but dropped her hand when she saw him smile. She felt her heart flutter

Shit

Now she had something to say to Rodrick, but she forgot when she saw him smile like that. Boys like him were not supposed to smile like that. He was not supposed to have such a soft smile. Her trance broke when she saw him smirking.

"I saw you last night...not in a creepy way. I mean... obviously, during all that chaos at Heather's birthday, I saw you." there was that damned smile again. "I didn't know you were friends with her." His tone had a genuine wonder.

Y/n chuckled. "I helped her a few times with assignments..not really a friend, but we know each other, plus free food. Who can say no to that?"

Y/n felt her cheeks warming up under his gaze and tried to hide it under the curtain of her hair when she suddenly felt his fingers against her cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. At that moment, she realised Rodrick actually saw her. She realised Rodrick was more than a teenage dirtbag that the world told her to stay away from.

She cleared her throat "I have heard your band play...when I come to tutor Greg."

Rodrick's hand grew sweaty. He knew how loud his band practice was, mainly to annoy Greg and his best friend Rowley. But he can't help but felt guilty as he realised how much of a nuisance it would have been for her.

"I am so sorry if our practice disturbed you guys"

"Oh no it's ok..I actually don't mind. I like that kind of music. Although it would be nice if the volume is a bit low."

"yeah...yeah absolutely...no big deal we can even practice a bit later."

Rodrick looked ahead trying his best to control a giddy smile. He did not expect his morning to be this good.

"Great...so I will see you in the evening..if you don't mind"

"yeah yeah totally" Rodrick quickly responded with a big smile. He was looking forward to meeting her this evening...after he locked Greg in the basement again.

A/N: Ladies and Gentlemen the boy who got me into bad boys. Rodrick Heffley. I couldn't stop myself from writing for him. I feel like a teen again. REBLOG AND COMMENT if you like this.

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick x y/n #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick imagines #devon bostick #devon bostick x reader #greg heffley #diary of a wimpy kid imagines #rodrick heffley fluff #rodrick fanfic #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley imagine #turvi writes

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pennylanewrites · 11 months

Text

[love in the dark] levi ackerman x f!reader

cw + what to expect: angsty levi thinking he’s not good enough for you, self deprecation, talks of a family and kids, nudity (not sexual), brief mentions of battle scars, swearing, jealousy, alcohol consumption, eventual comfort

levi hated everything he loved about you. you were so loud and talkative and bubbly. always smiling, despite the chaos around you. always caring and laughing and mumbling made-up melodies.

he hated that other people loved those parts of you too. he hated the way erwin would light up when you entered the room, that he somehow found ways to spend more time than needed with you, that hange would tease him playfully about his crush on you, a simple cadet.

but what he hated the most was that he couldn’t speak. he couldn’t kick the living shit out of erwin and punch hange’s stupid face, scream how much he loves you.

because you were a cadet. levi was a captain. it was so inappropriate, him breaking every possible rule and code of honour to be with you.

today was a very bad day. many scouts had lost their lives in an expedition to capture two titans for research. the remaining ones needed an uplift, erwin thought. and now squad leaders, captains, scouts and the fucking commander were sitting in a circle drinking wine.

you couldn’t handle your alcohol. levi was the first person to introduce you to wine, and then whiskey. that was also the first time levi felt old. how young were you that you had never tasted alcohol before?

he smiled to himself at the memory, but the smile faltered when he looked up to see erwin helping you to a couch. you gracefully thanked your commander, slightly embarrassed at how dizzy you were. petra, your friend, looked between you and the commander, giving you a suggestive wiggle of the brows. that didn’t go unnoticed by your captain, whose hand slipped as he poured wine in petra’s glass, turning her white pants a pale hue of red.

something snapped inside of levi as he drank glass after glass of sweet red wine. erwin had so much to offer to you. money, a home, a family. you were listening intently as erwin explained the rules of a card game to you, peering over his shoulder as you sat on the couch and he on the floor.

don’t let your head fall on his shoulder. don’t let your-

a gasp came from levi’s left. of course it was fucking hange.

“i must be boring you.” erwin chuckled when he realised you were falling asleep. “i’ll take you to your dorm.” levi reached the couch with two big steps, protectively standing between you and erwin as you got up.

“i’ll take her.” he was throwing daggers at erwin with his gray eyes, and erwin was surprisingly returning the gaze.

“you don’t have to, captain. take your rest today.” erwin was not giving it up. he gave levi a pleading look, as if saying let me have this, friend.

you’re not my fucking friend, replied levi.

“she’s my soldier, erwin.” you pulled on levi’s jacket, after making sure no one saw. a silent please stop. “lead the way, cadet. you can walk, i assume.” he was cold. more than usual, barely letting you say your good nights to the room.

was he mad at you? you weren’t the one making advances, it was erwin. you didn’t know how to politely turn your commander down, nor did the alcohol running through your veins allow you to.

“your room is that way, is it not?” levi stopped sharply, making you hit his back.

“levi,” when had you ever slept in your room the last two years? “are you mad at me?”

he sighed and turned around, still alert for any guards, or even worse, erwin and hange showing up.

“you’re drunk.” was all he said before walking again, signaling for you to follow. he was silent the rest of the way, silent as he stepped out of his clothes, silent as he grabbed a towel.

“can we take a bath together?” you asked hopefully. deep down you had a feeling he would turn you down. levi was always sour after failed expeditions.

“i want to go to sleep tonight, you take too damn long in the bath.” he was right, but the way he said it made it sound like he was accusing you of being a serial killer.

“okay. you go then, i showered before.” you smiled softly and started taking your clothes off to lay on the clean linen sheets.

levi thought about tonight over and over as he sat in the hot water. he didn’t mean to snap at you, or be so mean. he was pushing you away and into erwin’s arms.

erwin could give you the world. levi could not.

and you deserved the damn world.

he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you taking up the entirety of the bed, stark naked, like you always did.

he loved everything about your body. every curve, every dip, every beauty mark. he loved the healed pink scars on your legs and back, he loved kissing them and caressing them every time you cried that they were ghastly.

he hated what he was about to do.

“don’t you dare.” your voice was quavering. you didn’t dare look away from the ceiling.

“dare what?” levi put his boxers on and tried pushing you to the wall so he could lie down. why are you crying?

“do what you’re about to do, levi.” you moved so he could sit next to you and you both rested your backs on the cold wall.

“if you know what i’m about to do, you also know why.”

“oh, eyebrows is flirting with my girlfriend. time to ruin a perfectly fine two-year relationship.” you were mocking him. he was almost mad at you, but you were trying so hard not to cry.

“that’s not it.” he muttered. god, he hated talking about these things. “i can’t…”

i can’t give you enough.

“can’t what, levi? can’t love me anymore?”

“i can’t be what you need.” he sighed and turned away. why the fuck were his eyes burning and watering now?

“what are you talking about?”

“do you want kids, y/n?”

you let out a surprised laugh.

“levi-”

“do you?”

“well, yeah. not for like, ten years, but sure.”

“there you have it.”

“what, are you impotent or something?” you tried making light of the situation, because truly, you had no idea how to approach this. so you resorted to humour, hoping levi would snap out of it too.

“no, i’m just not cut out for that family crap.” he was standing up and walking around the room now, and he was making you dizzy. “erwin is, though. erwin wants a family and three children, did you know?”

you did know. you still shook your head no.

“and he has money to raise them. hell, he has a house in the countryside, and servants.”

“well, good for him. i hope he finds a wife soon.”

“are you fucking stupid, y/n?” you hated when he talked like that. “you’re 22 years old, god damn it!”

“so?”

“other women your age are already married and have a second kid on the way. not wasting their days away fighting titans, risking their lives!”

“i didn’t join the scouts to find a husband, levi!” you were crying. god, he hated it so much. what was he even doing. levi regretted ever opening his mouth.

“don’t you understand, erwin is your way out! you’re wasting your time with me. your life.”

“levi…” now you finally understood. it wasn’t that he was jealous of erwin flirting with you. well, that too, but he was jealous of the life erwin was living. “levi, i love you.”

“y/n, i really don’t know what you’re doing with me.” he was sitting down on the edge of the bed, his back to you. you shifted on the bed, until your legs were around his and your cheek resting on his back.

“i know you don’t get it, but you’re giving me exactly what i need.”

“and what is that?”

your hand fell on top of his, and you intertwined your fingers before he could take it away.

“you give me life, levi. and that’s more than i could ask for. i know you’re scared that you’ll die, or i will, but that’s our purpose. i joined the scouts knowing the risks.”

“i just want you to live properly. peacefully.”

“so be my peace.” you whispered in his ear and got up, sitting down again on his lap. “and don’t ever think you’re not good enough for me.”

“i know i’m not, y/n.”

“i don’t care, then. i love you, i don’t want to lose this, ever. i don’t care that i’m too young, or at child-bearing age or whatever other stupid crap you’ll come up with.” he smiled softly at you, letting his forehead fall against yours.

“promise you won’t die, then?” you giggled and kissed the tip of his nose before replying.

“i promise.”

“i love you.”

“good. don’t ever do that shit again, levi.”

“don’t swear.” he muttered and guided you to lie down, still on top of him. you could feel your heartbeats turn to one as you lay in silence. “i’m sorry, y/n.”

“that’s okay. just know i wouldn’t trade you for anything. for anyone.”

“really?” his arms tightened around you. a form of saying, me neither. you’re my everything.

“yeah, i like my men to have thin eyebrows.”

#aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x reader angst #levi ackerman angst #levi x reader fluff #captain levi #levi ackerman fluff #aot fluff #aot angst #attack on titan angst #attack on titan fluff #aot x reader angst #aot x reader fluff #attack on titan levi

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n30nwrites · 2 months

Text

Now Sit (Shifter! TF141 x Male Reader)

Part 2 of Good Doggy

Masterlist here

Warnings: None really??? I'm not sure. Some awkwardness but that's cause Reader couldn't give less of a fuck. Some creepy behavior

Updated; 3/5/2024

Beta Reader: the lovely @letmelickyoureyeballs who's saving your guys asses right now

Part 1 here.

The entire house was shrouded in darkness. The windows were covered up in thick fabrics of purples and blacks. You didn't have any lights on, instead some candles that were hastily lit when you had entered the building and a few lamps. Your eyes were thankful for the darkness after the long drive during the day.

Your first trash bag was filled with clothing fabrics, they all needed to be washed so you quickly filled the tub with warm water and laundry soap, sorting the fabrics by color before tossing in the divided groups. Starting with your whites.

You decided to bring more boxes in, figuring the more you unboxed the easier it would be when the rest of your stuff arrived. Your box labeled ‘Gear’ was the first box to be put up, putting it in the closet near the entrance so you could pretend it wasn’t there. Just looking at your uniform brought back memories that you wish you could ignore. The second box was just one filled with knives, your swords were in another container wrapped up tightly in the back of Maya’s car. The Knives were put into your bedroom, you would come back to organize them when you weren’t so hungry.

You had cash ready for your pizza. Along with a tip because people needed to be tipped well. Especially in the service industry.

So when a knock echoed in the open-spaced living room, you had the cash tightly gripped, exact change in one hand and in the other the tip.

Until a man who was very obviously not the pizza delivery driver stood there, your pizza in his hand.

Well you figured it was yours. And there was no way this man was a delivery driver. He was far too fine to be one, if you were honest with yourself.

He was 6'2 which immediately put you on your toes, athletic build with graying-brown hair and blue eyes. He seems to look like he's reaching his 40s, something that shouldn't be so attractive yet is.

God, you needed therapy.

But, smash.

Nope. Nope. It was just inappropriate thoughts of an impossible achievement. You didn't need a relationship, not after your last one. You needed solitude, you needed to live a normal life without constant stares.

"Why do you have my pizza?" You ask him, money being squished.

"I paid for it, figured I could do that for the new guy." He speaks and seems almost cheerful, which is strange.

"I'm not paying you back."

"You don't have to." He handed the pizza to you and you snatched it quickly, almost comically. "Okay, bye." You go to shut the door but he quickly protests.

"Wait, who are you?" He seemed desperate and you didn't understand it. You sat the pizza on the table you had set up right next to the door, which was supposed to hold trinkets and your keys but you hadn't put the bowl there yet. You rolled your hand, rubbing your wrist that had ached from just a minute of holding the pizza. It was something you were working on fixing, just not right now.

"Who are you?"

"John, I live over at that house." He points to the house that Stalker 1 and Stalker 2 stood outside of. It was big enough for you to assume they were roommates, or perhaps a family.

"Can you tell the guys to not stare next time? It was uncomfortable." You blankly told him, before introducing yourself, only saying your first name, same as John did.

"This is a pretty big house for you to live all alone in." He was fishing for information, John knew that it could come off creepy, but he needed to know something about this person in front of him.

His mate.

"I don't live alone." You tell him, and he believes you are lying to him. He doesn't hear another heartbeat, and Ghost and Soap said that you arrived alone. "My Partner is coming with the rest of our stuff."

Partner? Why the hell do you have a Partner? How could you not know that you have three (maybe four with the way this pattern is) men waiting for you, willing to do anything for you. He's angry, and he knows that it makes no sense to be. You had lived your entire life before meeting them, it's not like you could drop everything and move in with him.

Despite everything in his body screaming at him to take you into his home and keep you there, keep you safe. And it's unreasonable, and something he would never do unless he wanted to traumatize you.

His eyes slightly widen at his own thoughts, and he needs to take a step away from you. You muddle his brain, you confuse him. He's had partners in the past, but this was different.

You weren't even supposed to be here.

"I'm sorry for bothering you sir, hope you enjoy your pizza." He takes a step away and turns and you don't bother to say goodbye or even thank him. You shut the door and he can hear you shuffle around and grab the pizza.

Price hates himself for what he's going to do next.

Gaz is almost surprised at the meeting. He says almost simply because he knew Price was going over to the neighbors, he watched the leader leave the house and pay off the pizza man. So something had to happen.

They just had to wait for Ghost to get home. Price was insistent on it, that everyone needed to be there and they couldn't wait nor do it over the phone.

He just wasn't expecting the words.

A theory that you were somehow mates with all of them. Price had revealed your status to him which caused Soap to blow up. It seemed ridiculous, all four of them connected to you.

But Gaz wanted it to be true. If he could just walk over and meet you, to find out.

If Gaz could no longer feel so alone because of you. He would do anything for that. So he didn't care that Ghost didn't seem to trust you, claimed you could be some creature putting a spell on the team, he didn't care that Soap wanted you for himself. He didn't care that Price was still talking.

He went outside and ignored the protests.

And he was lucky too, because a car had pulled up to your house and you walked out, sunglasses on and a large jacket which didn't fit for the weather.

But he could finally see if it was true.

-----

Okay so I skipped my homework to finish this (i'm not gonna be this irresponsible I swear) and I made a poll here where you can decide on if reader is a human or not. I have plot points for both (probably a longer story if not human??? but that depends on what the people want) also please reblog and leave comments I usually lose interests with these and I'm trying not too. Gonna post a Masterlist for this soon, and if you want to follow the story you can follow the tag Good Doggy FF so you don't have to have notifs on lol.

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katwatcheskny · 1 year

Note

How would other uppermoons react to a child that became a upper rank demon? Like, Say, they were little less than Ume's age when they were turned, but more emotionally and mentally mature as a demon than Daki-

upper moons react to child upper moon

type: preference

pronouns: you/your/yourself

characters: kokushibo, douma, akaza, gyutaro, daki

a/n: i tried to make this as realistic to their canon personalities as possible. the one that was easiest and the most fun to write was douma this time, i also one hundred percent believe that would be his canon reaction and no one can change my mind. enjoy~

KOKUSHIBO

Would he even bother to notice that you are a literal child and not a very small adult? Probably, eventually. He just assumed you were older.

Kokushibo only cares about the other upper moons being efficient and useful to Muzan. Because of your maturity and clearly being powerful enough to become an upper moon, Kokushibo tolerates you.

He does use you to shame the others.

Like whenever Akaza tries to kill Douma because he’s annoying him. Kokushibo will chastise Akaza by reminding him that you’re half his age but have twice his maturity. Which is like a backhanded compliment.

You’re like actually one hundred or something, but sure.

Otherwise, he treats you the same as the rest of the upper moons. Which is with an apathetic neutrality for the majority of the time.

DOUMA

This motherfucker is condescending to a child upper moon.

Once again, you may look like a child but you were turned into a demon like over a hundred years ago. You’re not literally a child anymore, you have more knowledge, wisdom, and lived experience than almost any other living being on the planet but the other upper moons.

But to Douma, you are a baby.

A little, itty bitty little baby. You’re just so cute with your wittle hands and your wittle feet. You’re so cute he could just eat you up, yes he could, yes he could! Who's a cute little baby? You are, yes you are!

Is he doing this to just fuck with you? Very possibly.

Douma reminds everyone that you are a child whenever they speak on something he deems inappropriate, like swearing or sex. He will even come up behind you and cover your “innocent” ears.

Buys you children’s toys.

AKAZA

Would have zero qualms fighting a child (x).

Akaza doesn’t really enjoy being in the company of the other upper moons. So, he doesn’t really care about you when you first meet.

He is surprised that you are a child. While you’re technically not the only child in the upper moons (considering Daki was barely thirteen when she was turned into a demon), but you’re the only one who looks like it.

However, that doesn’t mean you get a pass. Akaza is able to make the distinction that you aren’t really a child, so he will fight you.

Especially when Kokushibo uses you to shame him.

Akaza would want to fight you especially after that. Fighting is the only way he can express his emotions, especially as a demon.

Would be impressed with how strong you are. Okay, maybe you don’t suck. If you could give him a good fight, you would become Akaza’s favorite member of the upper moons.

GYUTARO & DAKI

I combined the two for this specific request because their reactions to a child upper moon would probably go hand-in-hand more than separate.

Gyutaro sometimes (most of the time, to be honest) wishes that Daki would have matured mentally and emotionally over time the same way that you did. Would never say it aloud, but he thinks it.

Daki kinda knows Gyutaro wishes she was like you, and so she hates you because she thinks you’re trying to steal her big brother from her.

So, Daki reminds you that you’re short and ugly.

Daki’s childish feud with you only makes her seem more childish by comparison to your mature indifference to her and her insults.

If Gyutaro gives you any attention, it makes Daki so mad she cries.

So, you don’t interact that often.

Gyutaro kinda still sees you like a child because of the way you look. Which is why he thinks Daki is being so unreasonable, you’re a kid and a fellow upper moon. He thinks you’re okay for a kid.

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bangtanintotheroom · 28 days

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Make Me Water (M)(Teaser)

Can you blow my mind?

Set off my whole body

If I give you my time

Can you snatch my soul from me?

🔊 water - tyla; make me - britney spears, g-eazy; the look - ali gatie, kehlani; meeting in my bedroom - silk; tonight - dxvn., daniel di angelo; slidin' - kai and more... 🔊

• Pairing: Seonghwa x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Fluff

• Rating: 18+

• Words: (teaser) 433

• Summary: The most unexpected topic comes up during a drinking session with your friends, leading to one of them making a rather bold claim. You declare that they’re full of shit and unintentionally make them determined to prove you wrong.

• Warnings/themes: drinking, swearing, explicit sexual content, discussion about inappropriate topics, Seonghwa and his bedroom eyes 😶, Y/N is in for the ride of her life, bickering, making out, body worship, teasing, edging, praise, fingering, squirting (it’s gon be real wet up in here 🗣️💦), dirty talk, oral (f. and m. receiving), hints of come eating, multiple orgasms, creampie, multiple positions, unprotected sex (dooon’t do this), aftercare

• Notes: Well well well, looks like we've got another ATEEZ fic coming up 🤨 Seonghwa has been slowly inching his way into my second bias spot and I've been in the mood for something extra filthy, so here we go! The amount of research I've had to do for this topic is almost embarrassing jcbvosiovbs 💖

• Teaser Notes: Teasers are a WIP and will not fully reflect the final draft, warnings and themes are subject to change. If you want to be tagged when the final draft is released, either leave a reply or shoot me an ask! PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE PRESENT IN YOUR BIO OR YOU WILL NOT BE TAGGED.

• Taglist: @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @kiestrokes @hyunjinsjeans @firesighgirl @swga-ficrecs

“Why bother telling you when I could just show you?”

Your fingers seemed to lose their grip on the plate, clattering into the sink loudly.

What? He did not just say that.

You turned to gawk at Seonghwa before stuttering, “H-Huh?”

He was nonplussed as he met your eyes, repeating, “I could just prove you wrong. Actions speak louder than words, no?”

Was he fucking serious? Seonghwa offering to show you how he could make you squirt?

“Hwa, you…you’re joking, right?”

“I’m not.”

Judging by the look on his face, he really wasn’t.

Feeling a heat begin to creep up the back of your neck, you tore your gaze away to grab the plate, picking it up and checking to see if it suffered any damage from your slip-up.

“Come on, be for real right now. I can’t do that.”

“You can’t let me touch you or you can’t squirt?”

You almost threw the abused dish back down as your head whipped up to fix him a flustered glare.

“Both! One, we’re friends. Two, I’ve never squirted and I never will.”

Seonghwa gave you an equally stern look, firing back, “We’re both single and it would just be between the two of us. And have you ever even tried?”

“N-No, but—”

“So how would you know?”

You pursed your lips, feeling a wave of frustration mixed with defeat overcoming you. He had a point. He could probably tell by the look on your face that you knew this, yet he didn’t gloat or prod you further. Seonghwa just kept watching you and waiting for your next defense to come out. But it didn’t come for a while as your mind raced with thoughts, coming up with one that threw you off-guard.

Would it really be so bad to say yes?

“There’s still a chance for you to back out, Y/N. It’s your call.”

Seonghwa’s body language was pretty clear in what answer he really wanted to hear. The way he continuously brushed his thumb over your knuckles and looked deep into your eyes let you know how much he was looking forward to this experience.

And yet he still gave you full control over it.

A grateful smile couldn’t help but stretch over your lips as you completely made up your mind. Your palm turned over to still his wandering thumb, scooting closer until your knee touched his own.

Leaning in, you whispered into his ear, “Show me what you can do.”

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undercoverpena · 2 months

Text

4. green smoke

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you wear a date outfit but not specified and the shoes have heels but not mentioned what kind. minor discussion of past canon events incl. drugs. no use of y/n. an: if this as a friends episode this would be called "the one where they talk"

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Friday soon arrives.

It comes hand-in-hand with a tumultuous storm, bringing with it ominous rumbles echoing through your house. The air feels charged with tension, wrung tight, all sense—as if it’s holding its breath while the world around seems to retreat into darkness. Even if the time on your laptop says 14:43.

Your gaze fixates on beads of rain running down the window, all racing one another—like you have been for several minutes. The steady patter provides a rhythmic backdrop to your solitude, interrupted only by the occasional sighs that escape your lips and the soft tapping of your pencil against the notebook—a feeble attempt at pretending you’re concentrating.

Pretend is the optimum word.

Merely putting on a show of focusing on the task at hand. In reality, your eyes keep flicking to your phone—the one lying silent on the counter, eagerly anticipating the next notification that’ll make it illuminate.

Your work, the one thankfully with a deadline of next week, continues to sit ignored—barely considered, never mind plotted. Because it isn’t what fills your mind.

It’s him.

Just thoughts of him—mind populated with vivid memories that refuse to fade, unable to stop lingering on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his infectious laugh. The one which has dug itself a place into the walls of your home, lit it up.

Then, you think of his lips, the ones that are purposeful, all heavenly. The mere thought of them sends a shiver down your spine, a longing present, spreading—

Unloading a delivery and you’re falling on me.

It's difficult not to smile at his message.

Something he effortlessly elicits from you now. Has done so since the very beginning. A thing he continues to do so the more the two of you speak.

It's giddy, almost teenage-like, the way your heart scampers to catch itself as your fingers try to pretend they're not darting to reply.

Excuse me? Rain. Oh, that is such a dad joke. It was. I’m pretty proud of it. Bet it made you smile. I will not confirm or deny. So that means it did. Shut up.

Thumbs swirling over the screen, you roll your lips, toes twitching on the floor as you grin.

So, how big is the candle going to be in the middle of the table? Ummm, appropriately sized for a restaurant? Hmm, I have only gone on dates with inappropriately sized candles. Are you flirting with me when I’m at work? Are you saying that like you don’t flirt with me when I’m at work? In my defence, you choose your own hours. Do you mind me flirting with you? Not even a little bit. Good. Because guess what I’m wearing right now? Hopefully nothing. I’m wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt. Still hot. Get back to work, Butterscotch.

You know it’s not long—a handful of hours until you’ll be across from him.

Likely with your smile hurting your cheeks, eyes unable to stand looking away from him for more than a few minutes. Unable to explain or rationalise how straightforward it is with him, how natural it feels to get swept up in all of this and find yourself wanting to be around him.

Something you try to put to the back of your mind, to not clock-watch, not count down. Doing well at it until you hear your phone buzz and see his name appear on your screen.

The laundry you're putting away ignored, the item dropped from your hand to the floor, before wiping your hands on your thighs, taking a measured breath, then lifting the phone to swipe it.

His voice fills your ear almost immediately. All hello and your name, a can you hear me? following.

And your heart skips a beat—missing a whole thud against your ribs as you stare at the outfit hanging on the closet door.

“I’m really sorry—“

And your heart falls. Descends gradually, like a feather freefalling. Doing so until it has nowhere else to go but sit in the hollow void. Disappointment beating, pulsating.

“—Harold… he had to leave early, his heart was playing up and he said he’d come back. But I can’t make him do that, wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves if he just—"

“—Frankie—“

“—And I’ve tried to move the reservation, rang the restaurant. But, they’re booked up and I really want to take you there—”

“—Frankie?”

You brush the fabric, the hanger holding on to the top of the door with sheer will as you do so between thumb and finger. Half-smiling—even still. Listening to the way he takes a breath, to the way he cares so much.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, swallowing, shoving the dismay down. “I… promise.”

The voice you hear back is soft. So tinged with sadness, and regret, you half-want to call him Butterscotch just to make him laugh. “You sure?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reassure him, comfort him—voice steady as you do so, "We can reschedule. It's not a problem."

A moment of silence follows, with a sense of letdown settling in the air like fog. It sits there, resting, hanging. Because even if you know it’s just a minor adjustment, a twinge of disappointment still seeps in. Not so much a sharp pang, but a lingering weight that makes your shoulders sag, as though everything had deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.

“Baby… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, a smile making its way onto your face despite the circumstances. "There's always next time."

“Not drove you away then?” he half-laughs, one you imagine is a little forced.

“Not even a little bit.”

Sighing, you swear you hear him smile with it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You grin, nothing but light and easy, “Just make sure next time you can show up, that’ll be a good start."

Frankie laughs, it flowing down your ear before it’s joined by a promise that he will and he can call you later, if you like? A thing which sounds like a good idea, even more so when it's followed by the fact he wishes he could stay—talk, but you know. Nodding to no one but yourself as you bid him goodbye, leaning against the wall—hanging up, full of bittersweet.

You let your head fall against it, rolling it there as your eyes flick back up at your clothes, lingering over it.

And an idea appears.

It grows—smothering over sadness before it blooms.

Then, you’re grinning. One almost as large as you do when he makes you giggle. Almost.

You’re thankful the sign still says open when you step out of your car—fingers tugging at fabric, ensuring it sits how it’s supposed to.

Even for a surprise, you wanted to look as picture-perfect as you should have been entering the restaurant. The paper bags catch your leg, noise crinkling against the air as you yank on the handle—entering, being washed in wood chippings, bleach and paint.

For a moment, one stuck between time and space, you look. Glance. Unsure where to find him, until your eyes land on him and find his head lifting at the sound of your entering.

Whatever Frankie had been in his hand dropped, all forgotten. His mouth parting at the sight of you. Taking you in. Sweeping brown, surprised eyes all over you as heat rises up your neck and brushes over your ears.

“I know I’m a little overdressed for buying a hammer, but…”

Mouth falling open, he looks torn between grinning and speaking. “What are you…”

Shrugging, watching his eyes roam up and down the outfit you’d chosen. The one that had been on the hanger for days—one you’d not thought could be replaced by anything else.

“Well,” you begin, smirking, “My date got caught up at work and I’d been really looking forward to seeing him.”

Frankie smiles, hand rubbing along his jaw as he stares.

“But then, someone told me there’s a secret restaurant here. One behind a metal door that says, Staff Only?”

Dropping his hand, and swiping his tongue across his lips—he slowly moves around the register. Coming to join you as you hold the bags up, the heels of your shoes clicking on the shop floor tiles as you meet him halfway.

“I also suspect that you might not have eaten, since you've been alone for most of the day.”

It’s at that moment his stomach roars. It grinds, what you assume is coffee, before groaning inside of him as he claps a hand on his apron.

“The only problem is,” you say, narrowing your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I… I didn’t know what you would like, so I might have bought a ridiculous amount of food.”

Taking a bag, his eyes widen when he opens it. “You’re staying, right? To help me?”

Reaching inside the bag he didn’t take, you pull out a single, battery-powered candle. “It’s a date.”

He gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "I just need to lock up," he says.

You watch with a flutter of excited nervousness as he moves around the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and then securing the door. The lock clicks into place, echoing in the quiet store. He then proceeds to shut off the lights, plunging the store into a soft, inviting darkness lit only by the glow from the streetlights outside.

Turning back to you, he extends a hand.

"Shall we?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth spreading through your fingers.

As you walk together towards the back of the store, a tinge of excitement flutters in the air. The 'Staff Only' sign looms above the door like a secret entrance to a place you shouldn't be, but with a gentle gesture, he ushers you inside.

You don't miss the way his fingers brush your lower back, the heat they ignite up your spine as his chest meets your back, face close to yours. Lingering, eyes sweeping over you.

"Lemme just..." he whispers, elongating it, before he bends to pull you a chair out—one with three wheels, no back—fingers sliding up to brush over your shoulders as you sit down.

“Careful.”

Swallowing, you suppress the effect he's having on you, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’ll try, Morales. Don’t want you to have to fill out the accident book.”

“Harold would murder me.”

Snorting, you watch him join you—taking the candle from your hand, flicking it on and placing it directly in the middle before the two of you begin taking food out. He gazes at bundled packaged burgers, stealing a fry from the bag before it’s laid out over the desk.

“So, as it’s our third date.” His eyes flick to you, mid-bite of his food as you twirl a fry in your fingers. “I get to ask you challenging questions, right?”

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. Grinning. “Alright, let me have it.”

Nudging him with the tip of your shoe he laughs. “Okay. You and Luca’s mom?”

“Ah.”

Grabbing a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “You don’t have to worry.”

“And as everyone in history knows, those words are how people stop worrying.”

Smirking, he turns on the wheely stool, facing you, knees abutting yours. “We haven’t been together since he was born—we… we weren’t even together by the time he reached six months. He… he doesn’t know any different. We have things we say, and truly, she’s a fantastic mom, we have a great co-parenting situation.”

“Okay.”

His fingers land on your knee, dancing over them, light and feathery as he sighs. Heavy. Weighted. It makes you swallow, makes you want to dig your fingers into your leg to stop yourself worrying, thinking—overdramatising whatever it is.

Scratching his head, he rolls his tongue from his cheek to the front of his teeth. “I wasn’t a good person then… a lot of shit had happened—I’d left the service, found myself… haunted, I guess? Me and her, we met, we… seemed good. She seemed good. And then, I…”

Your hand slides over his, one of your fries still in hand as you do. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.”

Nodding, he half smiles.

And then he does.

He tells you about his days in the army—and the sleepless nights when he was back home. The sense of loss he felt without it, the uniform that meant nothing when he joined a regular job. How flying helicopters for people with money who had no cares in the world began to make him hollow, carving a piece inside of him that didn’t fill with laughter at barbecues and trivia nights. He tells you how he’d rambled to someone about the lack of sleep, before he found a little white bag in his locker—an opportunity, a chance to not overthink.

That it had stayed there for days, almost a week until there had been news about someone he had once worked with.

Then he explained how it wasn’t a problem, but it also very much was. How he was lost, drowning—that people reached out, but the lights had been on, but no one was home. How it became a coping mechanism, a small dose to take the ache away—before he learnt he was going to be a dad. Her worries about him making her ignore the signs, much further on than they thought—and then, one month later, how he failed a drug test.

Trace amounts, barely anything, but still plenty.

His license, revoked—paused. His future dwindled, a baby due to arrive, one he’d heard the heartbeat off at the same time as he found himself at the threat of being alone. A second chance dangled, offered—do better, Frank. Don’t be selfish.

“—but, I didn’t change. Don’t change.”

Your heart falls, and descends.

Watching him shake his head, grabbing a handful of fries before stuffing them into his mouth as he chews, and you pick at one from your own box.

“Things were good—Luca, he had ten toes, ten fingers. He was great, happy. It made us being good seem real? But, it lingered, y’know? If work kept me later, there was this distrust, this question. And I couldn’t blame her, didn’t. Never would either. I broke that, I know I did. But…”

“It wasn’t healthy?”

Shrugging, he swallows, before nodding. “Then, I helped a friend, one from my squad. Had to… it was dangerous. I was gone longer than I said—and she worried, panicked. I knew before I left that when I got back I’d likely find my stuff packed—not that I blame her. I know we tried. But, I broke it. But now we’re better… better co-parents than partners, you know?”

Nodding, you chew, rolling the salt on your lips together. A beat passes, ice clanging in the drinks, cartons scratching against the table as the two of you eat.

“That was probably a lot.”

“It’s okay. Are you… are you good now?”

Nodding, he chews another fry. “Clean since Luca was born. Five years, fifty-seven days.”

“Well, I know this might be weird to say, but I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, he chews his cheek, meeting your eyes for the first time since he began sharing. “You’re a bit too good for me, you know that?”

Smirking, you steal one of his fries. “Oh, a hundred per cent. You might have a bunch of followers and good taste in paint colours, but did you know that I can sand down a dresser to the point a prominent Instagram DIYer has told me ‘I did a good job’.”

“Doesn’t sound that trustworthy. Bet he doesn’t know what you call wrenches.”

Pouting, you narrow your eyes as he laughs. “Thank you for telling me.”

Nodding, he rolls his lips. “I had to… ‘cause… are we enacting third date-talk honesty?”

“Of course.”

Half-smiling, he nudges himself closer on the stool. “I really like you.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up at the ceiling, before grabbing his knees and wheeling yourself closer. “I quite like you too.”

Smile spreading, he places his hands on top of yours. “Yeah? Because I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to… run from all of that.”

Smirking, you try to move closer, even if the wheels of both stools try to prevent you. “Did you know, honesty is really, really hot?”

Brows raising, chin lifting, his lips slide further into his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad too.”

Swallowing, his fingers slide in between yours, eyes flicking from one eye to the other. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Well, I’ve seen your house now.”

Nodding, you smile. Feeling it, whatever he’s going to say, ask, think lingering in the silence. His grin widens, a spark igniting in his eyes that sends a rush of warmth through you.

“So, I think it only seems fair you see mine.”

Wiping your hands on your napkin, licking your lips as you cross a leg over the other. “Well, for fair sake I definitely should.”

“Do you want to… now?”

“Tonight?”

Nodding, that same flush of pink rises up his neck, up his jaw.

Smirking, you loosen your hand from his—resting your palm on his cheek, elbow on your knee. “I’d like that.”

The car ride to his should be tense, but it isn't.

Instead, it's filled with soft laughter, teasing comments and shared glances—your fingers twitching, wondering whether a hand on his knee is too soon. Even when everything else feels so normal, natural.

When he pulls up outside his place, anticipation fills the air—a rush of warmth flooding through you, making your fingers clamp together and stare out at the place as he says, this is it.

It’s nice, well-kept—charming, from what you can already tell. Eyes spot chalk drawings on the patio, lit up by the outside lights and a plastic red car close to where he's parked.

“Luca has some good parking,” you smile, pointing to it next to you both. “You learn from him, or?”

Smirking, he undoes his belt. “Maybe, I taught him how to park. I’m very good with heavy transportation.”

You don’t miss the way he emphasises the sentence. Your 'oh' is swallowed by the sound of him opening the door and telling you to wait.

Watching as he moves around the vehicle, his eyes holding yours. Earlier, you'd been thankful that the rain had taken a pause; now you wished it hadn't stopped its lashings that glued clothing to skin, thighs pressing together on the seat before the door beside you opens.

“What a gentleman.”

“Just wanted another chance to chance to check you out, really.”

Swatting him, he takes your hand, his laugh blending with yours as he leads you up to his front door.

If he feels nervous, he doesn’t show it. Finding his keys and slides one into the lock without missing. Opening the door without as much as an awkward shove of the door.

If anything, it’s effortless. It not even squeaking or catching as he pushes it open.

“It’s not a lot…” he begins.

But he couldn’t be more wrong.

It’s cosy and warm. Exuding an unmistakable homeliness that immediately comforts you. Dark woods, off-whites, and splashes of orange, caramel, and greens intertwine harmoniously, creating a space that feels both freshly decorated and deeply loved. A balance you assume exists because of him being the one to bring it all together, knowing from the videos you've seen how talented he is.

As you glance around, you begin to see the traces of the Frankie you’ve been getting to know. Photographs of him at the beach, with his son, with friends and more with Luca at varying ages.

Then, there are the plants. An assorted mix of them, some big that you remember from photos, some greener than others—some tall and in plants with animal faces like raccoons and beavers, others in decorative pots placed on shelves.

As you step in further, you spot furniture you recognise from videos—even noting the stacked pile of books from a photo he’d shared recently and a record player on a side table.

“C’mon, let me show you around.”

He leads you, hand in yours, showing you his well-equipped kitchen, and dining space. Occasionally, he points things out, like the markings on a wall he’s using to measure how tall Luca gets and the scuff marks from dragging the dining table in after varnishing it. Before finally, the two of you are outside the half-open door to his bedroom.

Frankie giving you a wink, bodies almost flush.

“That where the magic happens?”

“Not usually…”

"Maybe that's cause people haven't been saying the right magic words." Shrugging, you lick your lower lip, staring at the beading on the door. "I should tell you, I've heard I'm quite good at magic words..."

You let it linger, sit. Before you turn on your heel, fingers brushing over a table as you head back in the direction of his living room.

He follows, a step or two behind, letting you and your eyes capture all the personal touches before you feel fingers on your wrist, tugging you back, body flush to his.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, you find your throat dry—eyes flicking to his mouth.

“Go take a seat, I’ll bring us a drink.”

It’s soft, the nod you do as he slips his hand from your waist. You move, almost on auto-pilot, to sit down on his sofa, running your fingers over a cushion—one stitched with greens, golds and oranges.

When he reappears, you look up at him, noticing the hint of nerves in his gaze as you plaster on a reassuring smile as he places them down on the coffee table.

Slowly, you reach out, squeezing his hand, "Your home is lovely, Frankie."

He chuckles, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks as he joins sitting down. "Yeah?"

Nodding, you press your knee against his. “So.”

“So.”

With a smirk, you draw a measured breath. “I believe... I want to kiss you now.”

Swallowing, his gaze flickers to your lips, lingering, before snapping back up to your eyes. Warmth spreads over your cheeks, neck and ears. “I believe you should, Rainy.”

A response there, nestled between teeth and tongue, is muffled as his lips meet yours—for the first time in several days.

an: as a warning, the next chapter will include smut. if you wish to skip the smut, you can miss the chapter as there will be no other scenes. the following chapter will pick up the next morning.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy

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chrysalis-the-butterfly · 15 days

Text

What I Mean When I Say, "I Ship Huskerdust"

When I say, "I ship Huskerdust," I don't mean that I think it would be a perfect example of a healthy relationship. Because it wouldn't be.

They've both got issues that they would need to work through if they wanted their relationship to succeed.

On Angel's side, there's the fact that his prior interactions with Husk basically consisted of him flirting with Husk, and Husk making it clear that he wasn't interested, and Angel ignoring that and doing it again. That's harassment.

Yes, Angel stops doing it after Episode 4, but he never explicitly apologises for it. That was a missed opportunity, in my opinion. It was a change for the show to say loudly and clearly, "Hey, trauma sucks, we get that, but it's not an excuse to treat people badly yourself. You grow by owning up to your mistakes and trying to be better than the person who hurt you."

Speaking of trauma...

Angel is being abused by Valentino and exploited in the porn industry. That's not a personal failing. It's not Angel's fault. But it has affected him deeply, and it's something that he and Husk would need to work through.

It's not going to be all sunshine and rainbows. Angel will cry, Angel will get angry, Angel will lash out. He will behave inappropriately, and he will keep being hypersexual because he knows how to do it and sometimes it feels like the safest option. And he will have no idea how to just rest with a loved one and trust them. So Husk will need to be the bigger person and take all the ups and downs and keep loving Angel through the dark days.

But I don't know if Husk has what it takes to do that.

That leads me nicely onto the issues on Husk's side. For starters, there's his judgemental attitude. He's a gambler, and therefore believes he can read people and know everything about them. Angel's "It's not an act!" outburst shakes Husk and makes him realise that he didn't really know what was going on.

But even after that, Husk is still judging Angel. It happens in Episode 6, when Angel is offered drugs by Cherri Bomb and Husk says, "Look, you wanna fuck up all your progress, be my guest. I just ... I just thought you were better than that."

Addicts can relapse if they go back to their old environments and old relationships. It happens. And it's probably not a good idea to be so condemnatory about it.

Can you imagine what Husk's reaction would be if Angel really did relapse? Would Angel feel safe opening up to Husk again if he knew how badly Husk could take it?

Sometimes, it seems as though Husk puts Angel on a pedestal. In Episode 8, when he tells Angel, "I guess you have changed," Angel doesn't look convinced, instead changing the subject. Husk sees Angel as better than Angel thinks he is.

And that goes hand-in-hand with when he was judging Angel more harshly in earlier episodes. Husk applies higher standards to Angel.

I think part of the reason why Husk is so hard on Angel is because Husk sees something in Angel that he doesn't see in himself - youth and potential. Husk has made it clear that he isn't trying to get into Heaven. He probably doesn't think he deserves it. That's why he told Angel not to look for answers to problems at the bottom of a bottle, but continued to drink himself.

My theory is that Husk is working on Angel because he finds it easier than working on himself.

It's much easier to judge and boss around others than to acknowledge and rectify your own flaws. To borrow a metaphor from Jesus Christ himself, Husk is trying to take specks of sawdust out of Angel's eye while he's still got plenty of planks in his own eye.

One of those planks being his complicity in the Overlord system.

Yes, I should probably mention that Husk used to be an Overlord. He used to participate in the very system that is now trapping and torturing Angel.

And he gambled with the souls that he owned! He put their afterlives at stake! Can you imagine being owned by Husk, thinking you knew where you stood, and then waking up one day to be told that you were now owned by someone else? Potentially someone as bad as Valentino?

(Now, I don't think Husk ever actually played a game with Valentino, given that he can't seem to remember Val's name in Episode 6, but still, the implications are horrifying.)

Angel didn't have too big a reaction when Husk opened up about his past. But that's probably because he was still reeling a bit from his own outburst. Once it had sunk in, how did he feel?

How can Angel feel safe and loved around someone who used to own souls and gamble with them carelessly? Someone who apparently still has his Overlord powers? Someone who could turn into yet another Valentino in the wrong circumstances?

How can a romance work?

Can a romance work?

Despite all of that?!

No, when I say, "I ship Huskerdust," I don't mean, "I think they're fluffy and adorable and 100% unproblematic." I mean, "Huskerdust contains interesting dynamics that are fun to explore." There's something about their interactions that I enjoy.

And Huskerdust could be a good way for the cartoon to dive into its themes of redemption and second changes.

Husk could change Angel for the better. We can see that, after Episode 4, Angel is willing to be more honest about what he's going through. He actually tells Niffty about the gruelling 16-hour shift Valentino put him through, instead of trying to pretend he's been all right.

If they became an official couple, Husk could show Angel what it's like to have someone genuinely care for him and his wellbeing, not just use him for money-making or self-gratification. Since Husk isn't interested in Angel's hypersexual porn star persona, it would be a chance for Angel to take the time to figure out who he (Anthony?) really is.

Angel could change Husk for the better, too. Other Tumblr bloggers have pointed out that Husk seemed to be drinking a little less after Episode 4. Perhaps watching Angel attempting self-improvement encouraged Husk to give it a go as well, albeit in a more low-key way.

And if Husk was the one who got Angel out of his contract with Valentino, that would be a great culmination of his character arc. It would be his own personal redemption for participating in the cruel Overlord system, because he'd be freeing someone from an Overlord's control. He'd be correcting his past mistakes. I for one would love to see that in a future season.

That is what I mean when I say "I ship Huskerdust."

TL;DR Angel and Husk are not perfect people, not by a long shot - but they could be perfect for each other.

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