#even though at this point in canon I feel like he just wanted him dead and had given up on talking (which is fair. like. he tried to kill | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yikimiki · 5 months

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>> bones and ashes

⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me

Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.

Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.

And Sukuna is everything but weak.

He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.

This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.

The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.

Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.

There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.

When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.

Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.

Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.

“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.

Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”

You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”

He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”

“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”

Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”

“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”

This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”

“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”

The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”

Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”

“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”

“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”

His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”

“I w-would n-never…”

“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.

The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.

“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”

“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”

You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.

Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.

“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”

You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”

He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”

“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.

“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”

You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”

“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”

Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”

“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sukuna,” you complete.

“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”

“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”

Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.

He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”

- ⚔️ -

Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.

Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.

Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.

Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.

You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.

“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”

You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.

You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.

Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.

You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.

However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.

Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.

Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.

It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.

Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.

He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.

He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.

So he keeps you.

It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.

“Undress,” he commands.

You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.

“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”

He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.

“So much, Sukuna.”

It’s more honest every time.

He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”

You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”

“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”

His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.

“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”

“I know you are,” he answers.

Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.

He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”

You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.

“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”

Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.

“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.

“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”

Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”

Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“

He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”

In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.

“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”

His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”

You nod. “Y-Yes.”

“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”

You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.

“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”

“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”

Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”

You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”

He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.

There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.

“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.

“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“

“Drink it.”

Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.

It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.

Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.

“… at me.”

This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.

“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.

You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.

“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”

And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.

You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”

“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”

The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.

“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”

Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.

Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.

“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”

He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”

Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”

“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.

“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”

“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”

#sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna #smut #jjk smut

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sugurism · 29 days

Note

ah your red /green flag post was really good. How about doing the type of person they are most likely to be attracted to..and if they would fall first or harder?

FALLING DOWN. ୨ৎ jjk men: their type of person + fell first, or fell harder?ㅤheadcanons

featuring ♰ㅤmultiple. (choso, higuruma, megumi, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toge, toji, yuji, yuta)

warning(s)! ♰ㅤNO PRONOUNS AND ANATOMY FOR READER. SFW (?) — toxic behavior ! possession ! some are delusional + yandere implied ! again, very much made based on personal opinions + i tried to write the characters off as canon as possible, but my favoritism will probably show ! sukuna (he's a warning of his own) ! violence + blood + death (mentions) ! cannibalism (mentions) ! obsession and possession ! not really all dark content but i will tag as so just to be sure, sukuna's part is insane ! mentions about marriage ! sadomasochism ! suggestive (sexual ideas about you) !

author’s note ♱ㅤthank you for everyone who's enjoying the red / beige / green flag post! you're all so sweet, it made my day, truly. im so happy, and this suggestion was so fun, anon. a small reminder so no one gets lost, though — please, read my rules before interacting. i don't take requests, but i consider suggestions. wrote this because i enjoyed the idea! it's not good, though. wrote this in a hurry and im currently working on other WIPs. don't know if i liked the result, tbh.

୨୧ CHOSO KAMO — attracted to someone's soul. fell harder.

the type of people choso likes is honestly pretty hard to describe. he is a romantic by nature, even if he is not aware of it. he really likes someone willing to cooperate with him and his family. anyone with an honest desire to protect him and his family and allow themselves to be protected as well.

with a body that was given to him (a dead body, even), he cares very little about physical appearance. a large part of him seeks to understand the essence of those he loves so that he can understand them without saying a word.

the moment he realized he fell in love with you was after a bloody battle. he was covered in blood and injuries while using his body's natural regeneration to recover. however, you forgot that ── you forgot his strength, you forgot his ability. you saw him as human as yourself, and by extension, fragile. bruised. mortal.

“choso! are you okay?” your warm hand touches his face, and choso's stomach twists at the thought of your delicate, perfect hands getting dirty because of his rotten blood. the blood of a cursed creature, neither human nor curse. and the way you look at him now: with affection, care. with the desire to want to protect him, as he would like to protect you.

and at this moment, he knows. what he feels is love. he feels like he's been struck by lightning, electrified to the last cell in his body. “y──yes. of course.”

god, he needs to marry you. now.

୨୧ HIROMI HIGURUMA — attracted to an opposed strength. fell first.

this is personally inspired by my view of higuruma (and inspired by oc), but it would be an amazing cliché if he fell in love with a prosecutor. it is not exactly a person, but rather a dynamic. hiromi's type of person is someone who can argue their convictions and has the determination to defend their point of view. the kind of person who could get him back on track. someone who would argue back if he were wrong.

the moment he realized he fell in love with you was a very simple day. nothing unusual. the weather a little dark, a late afternoon full of heavy clouds threatening to pour their rain on him and you. when you looked at him and smirked after “winning” an argument, he felt his own heart skip a beat in a way he never thought it could before.

he wonders if you can notice. it's obvious, how could you not? how could he not notice it earlier, he wonders. for some reason, the idea makes hiromi flinch. his mouth opens to retort, but he gives up. will saying something make it obvious how much he is in love with you? he should wait before saying something. he can do that. he can wait and wonder, will someday, your heart jump like his, when he is around you?

୨୧ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO — attracted to chaos. fell harder.

this may sound ironic, but considering megumi's deranged nature during fights requires equal and opposite strength. aka, someone as passionate and convinced as himself. someone who will turn and smile at him with blood on their hands as everything explode around you two.

the moment he realized he was in love with you was during a fight against a curse. a simple exorcism, in theory, but one where a creature suddenly appeared and was about to make him lunch. until its interruption, of course. shouting as you annihilated a curse so far from his level just to protect him ── a determination and raw fire in his eyes. it made you look like you could do anything, even kill gods.

it made his mouth go dry and his cheeks grow red. and megumi knew, it wasn't from adrenaline. it was something much, much stronger.

୨୧ KENTO NANAMI — attracted to calmness and stability. fell harder.

nanami already has a very chaotic presence in his life. satoru gojo's ironic giggles and crude jokes are terrifying. his senpai's irreverent behavior will haunt kento until the day he dies. therefore, nothing fairer than a partner who is calm, but not in the way he is calm ── cold, slightly arrogant, semi-distant from everything that is real. calm as water, in a serene and subtle, loving way. someone to share his burdens and allow himself to be vulnerable with.

the moment he realized he fell in love with you was — weird. stress gets to even the toughest of men, and someone under as much pressure as nanami, for all his composure, is still susceptible to it. the smallest things can make a stressed salaryman's day hell, like today.

nothing worked. absolutely everything backfired in the worst way possible. he spilled coffee on his jacket, had to ask for another one, where the barista got his order wrong, and in the end, he was almost late to start his work schedule. as he passed you through the jujutsu high campus (in order to avoid that tall, white ghost that terrifies his underclassmen to this day), you made him stop.

being an assistant teacher isn't exactly an easy job, considering the vast array of (potentially problematic) students that inhabit jujutsu schools. but you are always able to get them all on track without using a drop of harshness. there's a firmness to its sweetness, sure, but it's not intimidating. the brats even apologize to you honestly when they make mistakes.

when you see him, you wave gently and smile. and that smile makes kento exhale very slowly. the stress escaping him as if drained away. not entirely, but it was something. and nanami has a talent for spotting things that seem insignificant, but actually aren't.

oh, your smile. your smile always does this to him.

୨୧ SATORU GOJO — attracted to gentleness and honesty. fell first.

despite all the compliments satoru receives, he is completely sure that ninety-five percent of them are not at all sincere. it's like a poorly done bribe in an attempt to get the favor or appreciation of the strongest, because he will always be that. first the strongest sorcerer, then satoru. first a title and then a person. it's just how things work, there's no point complaining about them.

but a person who can honestly see him as a human being first and as who he is, beyond his title. a trustworthy and caring person, someone he can genuinely let his walls down with without it being a decision he regrets later.

the moment he realized he fell in love with you was on the verge of death. well, not at the brink of his death, but at yours. so many things could happen if he wasn't around, and they did. a fight with a curse user, and your obvious victory, but at what price? now he was waiting at the hospital anxiously, his fingers drumming the arm of the chair as he watched each person pass by.

every doctor, every nurse, every one of those miraculous people who could save your life. every second melted into its own agonizing torture, and satoru couldn't understand why. why was it so hard to calm down? he has been here before, so many times, with other friends in their deathbeds. it was agonizing all the same, but somehow, now it seemed worse.

when they finally said he could enter, satoru wasted no time. walking through the door and lowering her sunglasses towards him. you and your bruised body, lying on the bed and slowly turning to look at him. smiling through the pain, and his lips parting to murmur. “’toru. you're here.”

he sat down in the nearby chair and chuckled slightly, feeling his worries disappear. your voice, so gentle and truthful. so happy to see him — a friend, someone dear. not the strongest sorcerer, but him. “yeah. of course, i am.”

୨୧ SUGURU GETO. — attracted to passion. fell harder.

passion is one of the determining driving forces that makes humanity the sinister creatures that they are. passion for something can be good, like artists who created revolutionary works and opened the world's eyes to their problems. or, it can be terrible, as in geto's case: his passion is the cult and his new world.

he would like someone who is as passionate about something as he is about this philosophy itself. bonus points if the passion in question is the philosophy itself, but any number of other things might be acceptable.

it's difficult to describe a moment where suguru realizes he's in love with you, without defining a passion of yours. maybe it's a hobby like art, or maybe it's caring for a pet. it's necessary context, but whatever it is, he realizes your determination and ends up completely falling in love with it. with you.

be it watching you smiling while finishing a painting, petting your cat proudly, or anything that reveals you're determined to stick to your own principles. like he will stick to his.

୨୧ SUKUNA RYOMEN. — attracted to violence. fell harder.

i saw a post once, talking about how a sukuna's ideal type (assuming he had one) really is someone who wants him dead. it's hard to explain it, but he's definitely attracted to the more disturbing aspects of a person. in particular, a taste for violence and independence.

however, he might not like it so much if this independence became a challenge. he is willing to allow very extensive freedom to any human who interests him ── within certain limits. a king must not allow the absolute insubordination of those beneath him, after all.

he wants someone raw, and visceral. bonus points if there is a possibility that he will mentally destroy you and turn you into some kind of obedient pet. someone who was not made to be his, but could become, if he shaped you to be his and only his. don't kings enjoy having pets? he should, as well.

the moment he realizes he is in love with you is definitely a bloody scenario. you have just ripped apart a curse with your bare hands. watching you like a hawk, he sees you — covered in purple blood and panting. sukuna wonders if you would show this same voracity in other situations.

if he took you to bed, would you agree happily, spreading your legs at him and laying down obediently for him to do as he pleases? or perhaps you would try to stab him, or open his chest with your bare hands, as you did with that inferior little creature? ripping his heart out, looking him in the eyes while you take a bite of it.

he licks his lips at the thought.

୨୧ TOGE INUMAKI — attracted to spontaneous and joy. fell first.

toge does not have the ability to communicate in words normally, due to his technique's nature. he is fortunate to have access to other means of communication ── cellphones, notepads, even sign language. but something that attracts him is the perspective of someone who understands him well, and who has the energy to speak for him.

the moment he realizes he is in love with you is during a conversation. he, you and his friends are all walking and gathered together, discussing casual things. even with the hectic routine that you all have, it is very important to have these moments where you can act like normal people and not just wizards (he will bring sweets for panda, to make up for him not being able to come).

maki turns around, asking what he wants to eat. toge considers for a few moments. he honestly doesn't feel hungry tonight, but before he can respond in his ingredient language, you look at him for a second and help him communicate.

“hey, wait! i don’t think he’s hungry. right, toge?” he nods, a little surprised that you can understand before he even says anything. and while the sounds of chatter disappear around him, he focuses on you and your face. you, who always pays attention to him. you, who understands him.

୨୧ TOJI FUSHIGURO — attracted to a mix of chaotic and calmness. fell harder.

the loss of mamaguro affected toji in indescribable ways. a man should never be forced to bury the love of his life, but that's what happened. as a result, he returned to bad habits and destroyed his own life. so, his type ends up being something very difficult to define. i think he would still like someone like mamaguro, but not completely. the type of person who can be chaotic as well as calm. someone who doesn't necessarily fix him again, but someone with whom he can see companionship and honesty. kind of like partners in crime.

of course he appreciates your kindness, but he really lacks showing it back. a part of him stays awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering why you're so good to him — when toji is fully aware he's not good enough for you. generally, he wouldn't mind. he moves from woman to woman, relationship to relationship, simply for money. why is he caring now?

the moment he realized he was in love with you was actually during an argument. toji is someone who is extremely difficult to deal with because of his relaxed and self-serving nature ── plus, he purposely acts annoying during fights, but you never freak out. well, today you freaked out. and while you're swearing at him from the rooftops and pointing accusingly, he can only stop and feel himself melting. for some reason.

it doesn't make sense, of course it doesn't make sense. but your calmness contrasted by such abrasive anger is extremely attractive. it's more than attractive. he feels like gasoline and you feel like a match. and god, how he wants to burn.

୨୧ YUJI ITADORI — attracted to gentleness, honesty, and pride. fell harder.

yuji's destiny has always been marred by constant and untimely misfortunes. he loses friends and fights, he fails in moments where he should win, and the destruction upon him is both physical and mental. but there is hope. a kind person who genuinely understands him and can help him take the reins or share the burden when it all gets a bit too much. someone who watches bad movies with him and laughs at the terrible jokes he makes. someone who is willing to help him forget the horrors of the world for five minutes, or be rational when he is emotional.

the moment he realizes he's in love with you is when he leaves the cinema. a (very disgusting) sequel to his favorite horror film series just came out, and you were the only person who agreed to watch it with him. as he excitedly searches the bottom of the popcorn bucket for some leftovers, he notices you looking at him. "what?" he mumbles, crunching on the popcorn.

you laugh lightly, reaching out to wipe his crumb-covered cheek. “yuji, your face is all dirty! wait, i’ll get a napkin.” that little contact of your palm with his cheek is── scorching. there is no other way to describe it. the sensation is so sudden that as you move away to grab a napkin, he lets the practically empty bucket fall to the floor.

there was so much tenderness in your stare, so much care and appreaciation. even if it wasn't your cup of tea, even if the movie would be a horrible set-up for a date, was this a date? even with all that, you— enjoyed it. enjoyed spending time with him, being with him, caring for him.

oh god. he is so in love.

୨୧ YUTA OKKOTSU — attracted to roughness and sincerity. fell first.

honestly, yuta's type can be a mean person. he wouldn't admit it, because he doesn't know how to say it without sounding almost like a masochist, but someone dragging him around by the collar while he smiles like an obedient dog is a pretty attractive prospect. he feels that he could cooperate very well with someone who is the very opposite of him ── as strange as it may seem. his type of person isn't really specific, he kind of just wants the basics: honesty, loyalty, affection. but if he could choose? someone more raw and honest, for sure. someone who would set the world on fire.

the moment he realized he was in love with you was in a strange and awkward situation. after an argument with one of his friends, you were just going to turn around and walk away at a steady pace. he doesn't like conflict, guys ── it's very stressful and makes yuta extremely anxious ── so his reaction is to just kind of stand there looking like an idiot. but you grab him by the arm and pull him away. “don't just stand there, yuta. let's go.”

“y—yes. of course.”

despite this, he knows you wouldn't be rude to him, or wouldn't be rude without a good reason. still, the almost angry tone in your voice and the authority you exude. even though he knew that in terms of power levels he would be stronger? totally attractive. he can see himself following you back and forth and a kind of dynamic that works like that. kinder and somewhat socially anxious boyfriend, and you, a scorching flame that consumes everything around you.

he kinda wants to be consumed, anyway.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. thank you for reading! <3ㅤㅤthis was not proofread.

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wheresarizona · 9 months

Text

Bluebonnet

summary: Is Joel Miller your friend? No. You’re not even sure if he actually likes you or just puts up with you because of his kid. Then he kicks some guy's ass in a bar for getting handsy with you, and you’re starting to think maybe he might like you a little…

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Grumpy Joel Miller, Protective Joel Miller, Soft Joel Miller, age gap (unspecified but reader was born before the outbreak), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral sex (f + m receiving), 69 position, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, spit mention, slight breeding kink, Joel has a big dick, Joel being kinda a dick, a random guy harassing you then getting beat up by Joel, canon typical violence, icing Joel’s knuckles, feelings confessions, Ellie being Ellie and the star of the show, AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and their relationship is still good)

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

word count: 5.5k+

a/n: Literally, a scene in this woke me up from dead sleep at five in the goddamn morning, and I spent thirty minutes plotting the whole one shot while barely awake. This fic was very spur of the moment that I wrote in less than two days, so it’s unbeta’d. All mistakes are my own. Please be horny about Joel protecting you with me.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

Is Joel Miller your friend?

No.

Are you on friendly terms?

You thought so.

Joel isn’t the most social of fellas—he’s basically a feral cat that wants to be left alone.

If you aren’t friends with him, then how did you become the regular occupant of the seat across from his in the Jackson mess hall every breakfast and dinner?

The answer is simple: Ellie.

It all started months ago when you first got to Jackson and met the teen after being assigned to a job rotation with her. She was so excited about finding out you lived in Texas for many years before the world went to hell she invited you to eat dinner with her so you could meet someone, and that’s how you were introduced to Austin-native Joel Miller.

He’s a bit older than you, never smiles, and isn’t much of a talker but still polite enough to answer a question if you ask it, even if it’s more of a grumble at the start of the day. With Ellie, though, it was different. He talked to her, and his voice was like coming home after a long day and settling in on the couch—that familiar Texan accent making you feel all warm and comfy, his words wrapping around you like a tight blanket and taking you back to a time when things were good and safe.

The morning after the first dinner, Ellie had called you over to sit with them for breakfast, and again that evening, little bits of conversation happening between bites as you got a grasp on what the relationship was between this young girl and man—it was clearly father-daughter in nature even if she didn’t call him ‘dad,’ and you savored every word she wheedled out of him.

It got to the point where the teenager didn’t have to beckon you over, and you just knew to set your food down in the seat in front of Joel to eat with them, always smiling at Ellie giving him so much shit, chatting with them or more the young girl, with Joel occasionally offering clipped anecdotes, and you trying not to acknowledge his handsomeness—you weren’t sure if he even liked you or if he was just putting up with you for the sake of his kid.

He does have a lovely voice and is very attractive with those expressive chocolate-colored eyes that sometimes soften when he looks at his daughter; you could imagine his grey hair would be soft to the touch, and it’s obvious those full lips of his are kissable. Honestly, it’s surprising he’s not seeing anyone that you know of or Ellie is aware of, with how damn pretty he is.

His broad shoulders and how his flannels stretch over his chest.

His neck.

God, he’s sure nice to look at.

And Ellie is a great kid who trusted you, coming to you anytime she needed advice or wanted to talk about something, and you were happy to be there for her.

The breakfast and dinner routine had been going on for so long that even though Joel didn’t talk at length to you, you’d managed to learn quite a bit about him from questions he’d answer or conversations he had with his kid or brother in front of you. He definitely knew a lot about you, too.

Now, back to why you’re not sure if he likes you.

That morning when you went to breakfast, you were running on autopilot—piled your plate with food, grabbed your cup of shitty coffee that made you want to cry with how much you missed Starbucks, and set it all down in your usual spot, where you started to eat.

When your brain finally began working, that’s when you realized it was abnormally quiet at your table, and you looked up to realize Ellie wasn’t there—it was just Joel. He must have seen some kind of look on your face since he grumbled out she was with a friend. Then when you asked if he wanted you to sit somewhere else, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he told you no before going back to eating in silence.

That put a point in the maybe he wasn’t just putting up with you for the sake of his daughter column and made you smile a little the rest of the meal.

She wasn’t at dinner either.

This had you standing near your seat, chewing on your lip, debating on sitting elsewhere until Joel sighed loudly, setting down his fork to tell you in a tone that brokered no room for argument to sit, so you did.

After a few bites, you almost choked to death when he asked how your day was.

There was actual back and forth between just the two of you, and you were in heaven at how much he was speaking, another point going toward he might like you.

Those interactions had you feeling really hopeful, and you were excited for breakfast the next day, wondering if he’d try to talk to you more.

It’s been over half a year since you arrived in town, and you have managed to make some friends, who you knew for sure were your friends, and also closer to your age. When a couple of them asked if you wanted to get a drink that night and play some pool, you happily agreed.

The place is practically empty when you arrive.

Standing at the bar, chatting with your friend Mathias as you wait for the bartender to make your drinks, you can feel someone staring at you. Doing a quick glance of the room has your stomach dropping and is the reason you’re pretty fucking sure Joel doesn’t care for you; he’s sitting across the room at a table in the corner, glaring at you—not just glaring, if looks could kill you’d be deader than dead he looks so pissed off, and you’re about to go find out what his problem is when two things happen:

Mathias excuses himself to the restroom, and some man you’ve never seen, let alone spoken to, gets your attention on your other side.

“Hey.” The interloper squeezes your arm, which makes your head turn toward him, shaking him off.

“Don’t touch me,” you reply.

There’s nothing special about the guy—he’s probably younger than you, has floppy blonde hair, and a clean-shaven face, but something in his eyes made you feel uneasy.

“My apologies,” he says, putting up his hands placatingly. “This is my first night here, and I’m just trying to make a new friend. Have a drink with me.”

“Welcome to Jackson, and no, thank you, I’m here with friends.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind if you have one drink with me.” His voice goes lower, “We could have some real fun together.” He has the audacity to grab your ass, and you step out of his reach.

“I said don’t fucking touch me.”

The bartender has gone into the back, Mathias is nowhere in sight, and your other friend is in another room where the pool table is with the jukebox playing.

Something flashes in his eyes, and it has your heart pounding.

“Don’t be like that. Just one drink,” he says, coming closer.

You are readying to fight the bastard when all of a sudden, someone is grabbing his collar, and you see a fist connect with his face in a sickening crunch that makes you gasp.

Joel yanks the guy in front of him.

“She said not to fuckin’ touch her,” he grits through his teeth. “And that she didn’t wanna have a drink with you.”

“I’m sorry,” the other man wheezes, blood oozing from his clearly broken nose. “I’ll leave.”

“Yes, you fuckin’ will—after I teach you some fuckin’ manners.”

With that, he punches him again and again and again.

You’re no damsel in distress—you’ve survived the fucking apocalypse for the last twenty years practically alone and could easily fight your way out of dangerous situations. But having someone stand up for you and protect you? It’s really doing it for you, except you’re genuinely worried Joel will murder this man, so you move toward him.

“Stop, Joel!” you shout, pushing on his shoulder, and he does immediately, his eyes meeting yours. “He’ll leave; toss him out. Please, Joel. Don’t kill him.”

His chest rises and falls as he pants, nodding his head once before hauling the groaning man to the door and throwing him out. The bartender chose that moment to come back, as well as your friend.

There was a worried expression on Mathias’ face. “Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. The drinks are sitting on the bartop, and you gesture toward them. “I’ve got something to do, so take those for me, okay?”

Confusion is etched on his brow. “Okay…?” He strategically picks up the three glasses and heads for the other room with the pool table.

Your attention moves to the man behind the bar. “Hey, can I get some ice in a rag?”

“Sure thing,” he replies, going to the block and using the ice pick.

Joel didn’t return to you. Instead, he went back to his table like the last however many minutes didn’t happen, and it makes you sigh.

His mixed signals have you so confused you’re ready to just get it all out in the open.

The bartender hands you some ice wrapped in a towel, and you walk over to Joel, having to drag the seat across from his around so you’re next to him, seeing his right hand shaking around his glass with bloodied knuckles.

He won’t even look at you.

“Give me your hand,” you order him.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Give me your fucking hand.”

“No.”

“Stop being a stubborn asshole, and let me ice your fucking knuckles.”

“I said I’m fine.”

He won’t give you his hand, so you do the next best thing and press the ice against them while they hold his drink, Joel hissing at the coldness.

His head turns to glare at you.

“Don’t give me that look.” You glare right back. “I’m helping you.”

“I don’t need your help,” he practically spits out.

Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself for what you’re going to say.

“We had a nice dinner,” you tell him.

His eyebrows furrow.

“What?”

“We had a nice dinner with just the two of us where we talked—you didn’t smile, but it was the most you’ve ever said to me, and this morning, you let me eat with you. You’re not a people person, and I wasn’t sure if you liked me all that much, but our meals today made me think you might. Then tonight you were glaring at me—”

“When was I glarin’ at you?” he interrupts.

“Before that creep started getting handsy.”

“Oh, I wasn’t lookin’ at you…” His eyes dart away.

You’re confused.

“There’s like no one here. Who were you looking at?”

He sighs loudly. “Your boyfriend,” he mumbles.

“Huh?”

“Your boyfriend—the guy you’re here with.”

“Oh, Mathias? I’m not his type, and he’s already in a relationship. I don’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, or a partner—I’m not seeing anyone. You should know this.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, so you weren’t glaring at me, you were glaring at my non-existent boyfriend, and then you came in hot like some knight in shining armor and beat the shit out of that asshole for doing me wrong. Sooo, you maybe like me?”

He looked at you with a squinted gaze, like the answer was obvious.

“I more than maybe like you,” he replies.

That has your eyes widening.

“Wait, in the romantic or platonic sense?”

“There’s no point in talkin’ about this,” he sighs, looking down at the amber liquid in his cup.

“Um, yes, there is because if I have a shot at breaking off a piece of this Kit Kat bar, I’d like to take it.”

His gaze met yours, and you could see the hope swirling in the dark pools.

“In the, uh, romantic or platonic sense?”

Smiling, you answer, “Romantic—I’ve basically been crushing on you since I met you. We’ve known each other for months, almost a year. You’re such a good father to Ellie, a hard worker around town, and you let some random person sit with you during your meals—”

It takes your breath away when he smiles softly and talks when you pause, “You’re not some random person, and I would’ve been stupid to turn away such a beautiful woman.”

“Oh, god, you’re hot and charming.” He chuckles, and your heart picks up in pace. “How are you making me like you more?”

“I don’t know, Blue.”

“Blue?”

“As in Bluebonnet.”

Which was Texas’ state flower and makes you feel so soft at how sweet the nickname is.

“I love it.”

The smile falls from his face.

“You, uh, don’t mind my age?” He scratches at his mustache.

Ellie had made you very aware of how old Joel was.

“No? I think you’re extremely attractive. Does the age difference bother you?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

“What now?” you ask.

“Jesus, it’s been so fuckin’ long,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I guess I’ll court you—take you on a proper date.”

“Second option, that’s more immediate, and we can go with your plan tomorrow.”

He looks at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is Ellie home tonight?”

His eyebrows dip together.

“Yeah?”

Smirking, you say, “Okay, so why don’t we go back to my place, and I properly thank you for what you did tonight.”

You see his throat bob as he swallows, his voice going deeper when he asks, “How do you wanna thank me?”

A smile pulls up on your lips, moving forward to whisper in his good ear, “I was thinking I’d suck your dick.” His breath stutters. “Then have you fuck me however you want.” That makes him groan, and you grin.

His hand moves out from under the ice and up to cradle your face, along with the other, when his body turns, making you look him in the eyes.

“I was stupid for leavin’ you alone ‘cause I assumed you wouldn’t want anythin’ to do with someone as old as me.”

You snort. “Uh, yeah. You went a little hard with the leaving me alone, but I’ll forgive you if you kiss me right now.”

No other words are said. His mouth crushes against yours, swallowing your surprised sound as he kisses you hard. Your fingers end up tangling in his grey waves of hair, your heart hammering in your chest and pulsing at the apex of your thighs. It’s obvious he hasn’t kissed in a while, and you’re in the same boat, both of you figuring things out until there’s a rhythm, and things are heating up with a slip of your tongue into his mouth to slide along his. The need inside you builds and builds until your lungs start to ache for oxygen, and you break apart, his nose nuzzling yours as you both pant with a smile on your lips.

“Let’s go,” he says, and you don’t have to be told twice.

He washed his hands before you left the bar, so it wasn’t obvious he’d just been in a fight.

Having Joel lead you through town is like having a big, scary dog on a leash with how people get out of his way. It’s a little surprising he even knows where you live when you find yourself walking through your front gate.

“How—”

“Ellie,” he answers before you even ask the question, his feet stomping up the two porch steps and you following. “She’s free to hang out with whoever and go wherever. I just ask she tells me where she’ll be.”

“That’s very ‘cool dad’ of you.”

You’re standing at the front door, him out of your way.

“She’s not allowed to leave Jackson without me. If I tell her to stay away from someone, she stays away from them. I expect her to be a model citizen and do the jobs she’s required to do. Unless we talked beforehand, she must be home in time for breakfast and dinner.”

“So, today, you knew it’d just be the two of us?”

“She asked last night to stay at Cat’s house.” That’s Ellie’s best friend. “They’re staying over at our place tonight.”

“Probably won’t even notice you’re missing then,” you say with a smile. The door’s unlocked, and you push it open before turning to grab Joel by the collar, pulling him in for a kiss as he walks you backward into the house with his arms wrapping around your back.

It’s a tangle of tongues, a clash of teeth, one of Joel’s hands moving to massage your breast while your fingers worked open the buttons on his shirt, him shrugging it off by the time you make it to your bedroom door you led him to. Once inside, he strips you first, spending quite a bit of time licking and sucking on your tits when they’re bared and stopping you when you try to work open his pants, learning he’s really fucking strong when he easily tosses you onto the middle of the bed.

Quickly, you’re sitting up on your knees, and you get a good look at the sizable bulge at the front of his jeans; Joel standing there with his hands on his hips, staring at your body with a hungry gaze, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. Scars are littering the golden expanse of skin on his front and arms of varying sizes, a newer one you spot on his lower torso, all of them telling you he’s fought like hell to make it to this point.

Shuffling forward, you’re tired of waiting, your hands going to the button on the front of his pants. Joel’s palm engulfs yours to stop you, his head tilting down to meet your confused eyes.

“You don’t need to suck my dick for what I did,” he says.

“Okay. What if I just want to suck your dick for the hell of it?”

His lips tip up in a crooked smile, and you’re enjoying seeing his different smiles.

“Then have at it, but I wanna lick your pussy until you come on my tongue.”

You suck in a breath, your cunt clenching hard around nothing.

“If you can get me off with your mouth, you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me.”

His eyebrow arches. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. You’ll be stuck with me.”

There’d been enough talking, so you deftly popped open the button and pulled down the zipper, grabbing the waistband to tug his jeans down his thighs. You’re pleasantly surprised he goes commando, and then you get a good look at his hard cock, and it’s glorious.

He’s thick, long, with a nice curve upwards, and you’re wondering if you’ll be able to fit him in your mouth—you’re definitely up for the challenge, licking your lips at the thought. Your fingers don’t even wrap all the way around him when you take him in hand, giving him a few quick strokes.

“Wait,” he says, stopping your movements.

“What?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Hold on,” is all he replies, getting his pants the rest of the way down, kicking them off, and removing his socks. Walking around the side of your queen size bed, you’re turning in place to follow his movements as he gets on the mattress with a groan and the springs squeaking as he moves to the middle, his legs on either side of you, grabbing one of your pillows to put under his head that he lifts to look at you. “Sit on my face.” It’s an order, and he pats his chest to show you he means it.

“I thought I was giving you a blow job…?” You point at his dick resting against his stomach.

“You are,” he replies. “We’re doin’ both. Now, get up here,” he orders again, his face grumpy, patting his chest once more.

“Sheesh,” you say, moving over his leg and up the bed, thankful you showered before you went out. “You’re really bossy when you’re horny.”

When you’re within reach, he replies, “I’ll show you fuckin’ bossy,” and he puts his strength to work again, grunting while hauling you onto him with your back to his head and legs along his sides. His hand lands on the side of your ass in a sharp slap that makes you gasp, feeling the wetness between your legs, coating your inner thighs. “I’m eatin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he says, positioning you over his face, his hand giving your asscheek another hard spank causing you to clench. “And you’re gonna wrap that gorgeous fuckin’ mouth around my cock.”

You can’t respond because all train of thought leaves your brain when his mouth latches onto your cunt, feeling him groan into your sensitive skin, the sensations making your toes curl, and fire erupt in your center.

“Oh my god, Joel,” you moan. “It’s so good. It’s so fucking good.”

It takes a deep breath for you to focus on your task, spitting on your hand before grasping his hard dick in your palm, the tip red and shiny with his arousal, lowering your face to take him into your mouth. He’s salty on your tongue, your jaw open as wide as it will go as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head, stroking the considerable amount that won’t fit.

His hands have a firm grip on your hips, pulling you farther down on his face, and you’re really worried he’s going to suffocate while he eats you out like a man starving. Pleasure in winding in your belly, tighter and tighter, with how he’s licking at your folds, your eyes rolling back in your head when he sucks your sensitive little clit between his lips.

He’s really going to make you come, and it feels so fucking good you’re having a hard time sucking his cock, so lost in what he’s doing to you—saliva is dripping out of your mouth and down his shaft, making your hand slide easily along him while you have half a mind to suckle on the head of him.

You hit your breaking point suddenly, the coil inside you snapping, your body tensing up as you come with a loud moan, euphoria spreading out from your core. Joel groans into your cunt, his tongue pushing inside your sopping entrance to taste your release straight from the source, his hands grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing hard.

He must get his fill because he moves you off his face, hearing him take a deep breath.

“My good fuckin’ girl,” he says through panted breaths, rubbing your hips, his words causing a shiver to move down your spine. “Am I stuck with you?”

You’d given up on blowing him, your forehead resting against his thigh.

“Yeah,” you slur, sounding drunk. “How are you single?” It’s been a while since you’ve had that good of an orgasm.

He sighs and taps your hip. “Turn around, baby.”

Doing your best to turn, Joel helps you, getting you to straddle over his lower torso, your hands finding their place on his warm, flushed chest, seeing the grey hairs of his beard shining with your arousal and his lips frowning.

“Like you said earlier,” he says. “I’m not a people person.”

Your eyebrows knit together.

“I’m people…”

“No, you’re not. You’re my Texas Bluebonnet—my Blue.” His large palm comes up to stroke your cheek.

You’re wondering something. “Why did you talk to me at dinner?”

A sheepish look comes over his face. “‘Cause we were alone, and I didn’t have to worry about Ellie teasin’ me in front of you about my crush.”

“She knows?”

He grimaces. “Suspects. Since there’s only three people on this godforsaken planet I like, and you’re one of them.”

“And I’m the only one who’s not family—oh, that’s obvious.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, how do you want me?”

He looks confused. “Huh?”

“I said you can fuck me however you want,” you answer, sliding your hands up his pecs. “How do you want me, babe?”

When he smiles this time, you get a glimpse of his teeth. “Ride me.”

His answer has you grinning. “Cowgirl, like a true Texan.”

“I just love your tits,” he says, his big hands palming them.

“Good to know,” you reply with a wink.

Sitting up on your knees, you scoot back to get over his hips. His dick is still wet with your spit when you grab it and slide it through your folds before positioning him at your entrance.

There are nerves swirling in your belly, your eyes landing on his dark ones as you slowly start to drop down, seeing his mouth fall open with a gasp, his hands grabbing onto your thighs. You knew there’d be a stretch, but he’s bordering on uncomfortable in how your walls have to expand for his size, feeling the slight burn. When you finally bottom out, you’re beyond full—you’ve never felt fuller, and it takes your breath away.

“Jesus Christ,” his words are said through his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t move.”

His hard cock is throbbing inside you.

“Been a while?”

“Yeah.”

“Same. You’re so fucking big I’m gonna be sore after this.”

His dick jerks as he groans, “Don’t say that.”

“Damn, you’re that close?” you ask, soothingly stroking your hands over his chest.

You watch as his eyes blink open, the grumpy expression you’re used to appearing on his face.

“Don’t make fun of me.” He slaps your ass. “I haven’t fucked in a long time, and now I’m inside the perfect pussy—you’d be strugglin’ too if you were me.”

“I’m not making fun of you, Joel.” You lean forward to cup his cheek, feeling prickling stubble under your palm. “I think it’s hot. Like, you have no idea how flattered I’d be if I made you come right away—talk about an ego boost.”

He doesn’t look convinced, his eyes narrowing.

“Are you just sayin’ that to make me feel better?”

“Nope.” To prove your point, you sit up, bracing yourself with your hands on his chest as you start circling your hips.

His mouth goes slack, his eyes widening, a choked noise pulling from his throat that makes you smirk. “Fuck,” he pants. There’s sweat beading on his forehead, his cheeks a rosy pink. “You fit me like a fuckin’ glove.”

You’re slowly building into an up-and-down motion, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock rubbing against spots you didn’t know existed, sparks of pleasure igniting in your center as you throw your head back.

He must get a hold of himself because both of his hands come down on each of your asscheeks in loud, resounding smacks before he’s gripping them to help you move.

Looking down at him, there’s concentration on his brow.

“Your tight little pussy is takin’ me so fuckin’ well,” he says, hearing the wet sounds where you’re joined. “You love how I stretch you open?”

“Yes,” you moan.

You’re moving a little faster, moving up, and falling down a little harder, making the fire in your belly get hotter and hotter.

“Lean down.”

Doing as he says, your hands are on either side of his head while he continues helping you ride him. He lifts his face to pull a pebbled nipple between his lips, and the pleasure shoots straight to your pussy, making you gasp and more arousal spill around his length.

He laves at one bud, then the other as you work yourself up, the new angle allowing the coarse hairs at the base of his cock to rub deliciously against your clit, and you know you’re close.

Joel is groaning loudly, clearly in heaven, with his dick inside you and his mouth on your tits.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he says around your hard nipple. “You gonna let me feel you squeeze my dick? Let me fuckin’ have it. Be a good fuckin’ girl and give it to me.”

It’s all too much, everything coming to a head as you fall over the edge with a cry of his name, clenching so hard around him, you’ve stopped moving with his cock buried to the root, pleasure radiating through your body.

Joel’s breathing hard under you, and you don’t sound any better while you come down from your high.

His arms suddenly hug you close to him, and you squeak in surprise when he flips you onto your back with his dick still inside you and his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs. Lips find yours in a searing kiss, moaning as you taste yourself, welcoming his tongue when it slips into your mouth to tangle with your own.

He starts moving to chase his high, his thrusts hard and fast.

The bedsprings are squeaking loudly, the headboard banging into the wall, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking his cock and your muffled moans paired with his muffled groans. There’s no mistaking what’s happening in this bedroom, and you just hope your neighbors don’t complain in the morning.

Your fingers have threaded into his hair, your bodies sweaty, his lips leave yours, opening your eyes to see his face screwed up like he’s in pain.

“Where do you want it?” he grits out.

If he’s asking, then he knows the risk.

“Inside.”

He opens his eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

It is a rare thing to want these days.

“Yes.”

His pace speeds up, grunting as he pistons into you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, feeling his hot breaths.

“You can fuckin’ have it,” he grunts. “Fuck you full of me—milk me fuckin’ dry. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You know he’s close when his thrusts get jerky, then he’s pushing in hard one last time with a guttural groan, feeling the hot spurts of his come filling you, his hips continuing to roll until they finally come to a complete stop. It’s obvious he’s wrung out with how he practically collapses on top of you, but you welcome the weight, pushing your fingers into his hair and scratching at his scalp, which receives appreciative hums.

Minutes pass that neither of you speaks.

“‘M sorry,” the words are murmured into your neck.

“For what?” you softly ask.

“Makin’ you think I didn’t like you.”

“It’s kinda my fault, too. I mean, I am aware you don’t like people but you’ve eaten two meals a day with me for almost a year, so obviously you must like me somewhat.”

His head comes up with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips frowning.

“I like you more than somewhat.”

You smile. His hair is a mess, and you go about combing your fingers through it as you say, “Yes, I know that now. You like me.”

“I do.”

“And I like you.”

“Good.”

“I said you’re stuck with me, so can this be more than a one-time thing?”

His eyes squint in that same way where he thinks something is obvious.

“What?" he says. "I’m not lettin’ you go anywhere. You’re mine—my Blue.”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re mine, too.”

He kisses you passionately, and you lose yourself in it for a second until a thought has your eyes flying open and you pushing his face away.

“What?” he asks, bewildered.

“How are you going to tell Ellie?”

“Shit. Uh, we can sit her down tomorrow night—”

“No, this is a conversation you need to have with her alone.”

He winces. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow night after dinner...”

Is Joel Miller your boyfriend?

He absolutely hates you giving him that label, grumbling he prefers partner, but yes, he is your boyfriend.

Did Joel sneak out of your house in the early morning hours to his own so Ellie wouldn’t know he was gone all night?

Also, yes.

It’s the morning after, and you’re trying to act normal, ignoring how nervous you feel and the soreness between your legs as you sit down in your usual spot in front of Joel with your plate of breakfast. He’s changed into clean clothes and looks like he hasn’t slept, sipping on one of the two cups of shitty coffee in front of him, Ellie next to him already digging into some oatmeal with her spoon, which makes you realize—

“Ah, fuck,” you say, both of them looking at you. “I forgot to grab a fork.”

“I’ll get you one, baby,” Joel says as he sets his coffee down and starts to get up.

The three of you go completely still. Your eyes are wide, Joel’s close in regret, his cheeks turning pink, and Ellie looks like she’s going to explode with excitement until—

“You guys FUCKED!” she shouts.

People around the mess hall turn to stare.

“Ellie,” Joel hisses, his head whipping toward her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says in a quieter voice, the rest of the room returning to eating. “I knew it! It’s about fucking time! So when are you getting married?” She’s looking between the two of you. “You know, I’ve always wanted a mom! And a brother! I’ll settle for a sister, though. Is she moving in with us, Joel?” She’s staring at him expectantly with a grin.

Joel’s face is bright red. “I’m gettin’ the fuckin’ fork,” he grumbles as he gets up from his seat.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @theorganasolo @absurdthirst @littlemisspascal @pedrostories @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @thefictionalgemini @lol-im-done @koryianders @flyingmushroomss @abbyhaslongshorts @savage-aespa @sofietargaryen @kpopslur @superflymaterial @virtuallia @shaunthesheesh @marsroxx @whore4dilfs @majdoline @mandowhatnow @autobotgirl15-blog @lentil-s0up @myloveistoolittle @squirtlebob @joliettes @aonungs-tsahik @javierpenasimp @thewayiknowyou @magic-magnoliaa @vanemando15 @eddiemunscns @gracie7209 @fan-fiction-floozy @butterscotch-mafia @deliriousfangirl61 @khaylin27 @notyourlovemonkey @a-wild-haggis @scorpiomindfuck @fandomandotherthings @seitmai @myswficlist @call-me-doll-face @fictionalmenloversblog @addisonnie @shaekirk @bitchwitch1981

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #wheresarizona writes

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psychedelic-ink · 3 months

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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ⸻ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

⌜HOW MR. MILLER STOLE CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST⌟

genre: christmas, enemies to lovers, romance, fake dating, minors dni

word count: 0.6k

chapter summary: the fireflies are dying one by one and you're desperately seeking a way out.

warnings: age gap, canon typical violence, spoilers for the season one finale

**dividers by @saradika

You smell blood. Feel it almost. The heat, the stickiness of it. Despite the clean walls and the sterile smell you know something is wrong. Something is very wrong—the fireflies are dying. One by one. Their light snuffed out, left to rot.

You knew this would happen. After all of what you’ve done, what Marlene has done. It was wrong, and karma always hungers after those who wronged her—Killing a little girl to save the world. . . hiding it from her. . . It was the trolley problem come to life. You never could answer that question, never could decide what was deemed right and wrong in that situation. Now, it seemed like all of you had chosen wrong. And you were being punished for it. The Angel of Death sought to claim you all.

At least it’s better than getting infected. At least the bullet would be shot right between your eyebrows and you’ll be dead before you can blink.

Your finger presses stubbornly against the trigger as you move. You still have the boldness of youth. Maybe you can escape. Maybe you can be free. You wanted out a long time ago, just scared to be out there all on your own.

Your lips press tightly together upon seeing a body, you don’t know his name, don’t dwell on it as you jump over his corpse and head for the exit. You hear gunshots. Screams. Shouts. You smell blood—such a persistent smell—You smell fear. Death is coming for you. Your footsteps gain momentum, you feel his breath on the back of your neck and the nuzzle cold against your forehead.

Then you see him. Just as you’re turning the corner, heart beating in your throat and sweat beading out of every pore, you see him—the angel of death.

And fuck—you know you shouldn’t think it, but the mass killer is beautiful.

Without even thinking you drop your gun and raise your hands. The best way to survive is to expose your neck to the beast. Showing you mean no harm. You don’t kick a raging lion.

He doesn’t seem to see it though. His eyes stare right past you. He barely blinks, blood of the fireflies coating his already dirty shirt. He cocks the gun and you know he’s ready to shoot, your eyes go wide. You don’t want to die. Not yet. Not without finding any semblance of peace or belonging.

“Please don’t,” you blurt out. His eyes seem to focus then, dark soulless gaze flitting across your face, noticing your raised hands. “I just want to leave. She’s on the top floor, at the end of the hall—Please don’t shoot.”

He observes you a beat longer. From the way his muscles tense you think he’s about to shoot, why wouldn’t he? What made you different from all the rest?

You close your eyes, chest rising painfully. There’s a loud hum in your ear. Maybe it’s the rush of blood? You think about your life, of all the death surrounding you. All you remember is the outbreak. Every memory tainted with curling cordyceps ever since you were six. You remember your mother holding you by the hand and yanking your arm so hard you thought it would be ripped off the socket. Your father trying to protect you both, leading the way—You remembered the day Marlene found you, time spent with the fireflies, the excitement when the immune girl was found. . .

The train of thought would end with a measly bullet.

A bullet that never came. A gun that never fired.

When you open your eyes he was gone.

You have no idea what it was—maybe it was the fact that you were significantly younger than the other soldiers, maybe it was because you were already out through the door when he pointed a gun at you— no matter what it was you were miraculously spared from the bloodshed.

The angel of death has spared you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller series #hbo the last of us #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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thefreakandthehair · 2 months

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we feel a little warmer now.

rating: teen & up | wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-typical injuries, pre-relationship, getting together, fluff, light hurt/comfort | prompt: love is a fire that never goes out @steddielovemonth & a happy birthday gift for @henderdads! title from the woods, by hollow coves.

February in Indiana is still the dead of winter— cornfields are barren, trees sway in the wind without their leaves, and the sky seems to have a sheer layer of grey even on the cloudless days.

Eddie’s always loved winter. The shorter days followed by longer nights, snowy Sundays, watching the smoke from a joint or cigarette dance in the freezing air, and excuses to do donuts in the local abandoned grocery store parking lot. He’s always loved winter, or at least he did until his world shattered at his feet, leaving him with injuries that take ages to heal and scars that leave him perpetually cold.

It’s been difficult to explain, even to the people who’d lived it with him. He can’t fully enjoy winter anymore because the cold seeps into his bones, maybe through the scars, maybe just because of the nerve damage. He’ll never know for sure because Hawkins General doesn’t exactly have a Demobat Specialist on staff so he just keeps it to himself.

Well, mostly. Steve knows.

Hiding anything from Steve has proven impossible. His constant chill, his frustration with the new but still-improving limp, the grief, the guilt, the confusing simultaneous euphoria of survival. The only secret he’s managed to keep is the big fat crush he’s harbored, probably since Steve helped find him in the woods.

Maybe earlier. Maybe since high school. He tries not to think about it too much.

The point is, Steve knows and even if Eddie hasn’t said that it breaks his heart to lose the quiet winter nights smoking on the porch or the hood of his van, Steve figures that out, too.

He must, because Eddie nearly jumps out of his freezing skin when knuckles rap on the front door of his and Wayne’s new trailer. There’s a system these days: check the peep hole, crack the door with the chain still attached to confirm, and only then does Eddie open the door completely. An unfortunate system, but he’s far from the town hero that Steve’s been hailed as, albeit against his will.

Speaking of, through the peep hole, he sees Steve standing on his porch wrapped in what looks like a thick hoodie and winter coat.

“Who goes there?” Eddie asks, cracking the door and peering out with one eye.

“It’s me, you ass. Let me in, I have a surprise.”

The door chain unhooks with a metallic click and Steve enters the trailer like he belongs there.

Because he does, Eddie thinks.

“A surprise? For me? Oh, do tell.”

Steve stands in the living room, a live wire if Eddie’s ever seen one. His hair is a little messy, as though he’s been raking his fingers through it. His nose is pink, complemented by his frosty cheeks, and his eyes are wide and wild.

“If it’s overstepping or whatever, we can pretend I never mentioned it but I know how much you miss winter nights. And I uh, I built a fire pit at my house?” His voice pitches up, as though it’s a question.

“You built a fire pit? Today?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be honestly, time consuming but, yeah. I built a fire pit. And I was thinking that maybe with the fire and some blankets and a good jacket— a real winter coat, not just your leather jacket— you might be able to get some of that back.”

Eddie tries his best not to think about Steve lugging brick pavers and forcing them into place, thinking about Eddie and his stupid broken internal thermostat. Wanting to give him back something the Upside Down took. Worrying Eddie would somehow see this as overstepping.

It’s a quick Yes and even quicker drive to Loch Nora, a drive that Eddie’s always found hilarious. How can two neighborhoods exist so close together but feel like different worlds?

The whole way there, Eddie keeps Steve talking. If Steve’s talking, there’s less room for Eddie to spill yet another truth inadvertently, the only one left to spill. Instead, he asks questions about work, and Robin, and if he’s heard from his parents.

(“It sucks,” “she’s great,” “nope”. In that order.)

Pulling into the driveway, Eddie hops out of the car as best he can in one of Wayne’s old winter coats and follows Steve to the backyard. His jaw drops when he sees exactly what Steve’s done. More than a simple circle of bricks, there’s a pit made of concrete blocks in the center of a larger circle filled with wood chips and grey pavers marking the perimeter. Wood logs are already split in a pile off to the side next to two lawn chairs and dear God, Eddie really hopes that Steve bought that already split. He’s still not over him swinging on demobats with his bare hands, and the image of him with an axe is enough to put him down for good.

“C’mon, I’ll get it started,” Steve nudges their shoulders together and walks through the pit to the stack of logs.

Steve gets a roaring fire going, the kind that cracks and burns both red and blue, and passes Eddie an extra blanket. Flames dance beneath the clear sky, speckled with stars that do little to distract him from how unbearably warm he is for the first time in months.

People don’t just do things like this for him, not without expectation or out of obligation. So much of Eddie’s life has felt like a spectrum spanning from pity to transactional with very few exceptions in between.

Then again, Steve feels like an exception to a lot of things.

“Why?” Eddie eventually asks, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke like a kid seeing his breath.

Steve shrugs and tosses the butt of his own cigarette into the flames. “You lost enough down there, and I know how that feels. If there’s something easy enough to fix, I want to. You deserve that.”

Eddie turns and sees Steve smiling, just a soft upturn of his lips as he looks up at the sky. His face is flushed and Eddie wants to think it’s not from the flames.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Eddie says, scooting his chair over close enough for the arms of their chairs to nearly touch.

Steve looks back from the sky to Eddie, long lashes and the scar on his neck on full display.

“That a good thing?”

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah, definitely. Maybe the best thing.”

They sit outside for hours, eventually sharing a blanket draped around their shoulders and a first kiss that lights him up from the inside.

Eddie’s warm long after the fire burns out.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steddielovemonth #myblurbs #please consider reblogging if you enjoy <3 #also the song really lends a vibe to this and it's one of my favs so consider this a music rec too lmao

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deafmangoes · 2 months

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I'm not a shipper by nature, just putting that out there. But, uh, Dungeon Meshi does things to me.

Anyway, I've shared my Farcille thoughts, so now to blabber about a different popular ship: Labru. The Hot Mess. The Disaster Couple.

Firstly let's talk about the -bru part of the ship. Kabru is a neurotic little twink with PTSD and anxiety. I don't think that's in any sort of doubt. He exudes an entirely false confidence to hide his crippling self-hatred and survivor's guilt. For some reason, this makes him incredibly attractive to nearly everyone he encounters. Rin has the traditional tsundere crush, his whole party firmly believes in him (more than reflects his actual abilities), the ninjas blush when he smiles at them, even dead-hearted Mithrun warms up to him over time. The omakes take this even further: his landlord cleans his room for him, Dia's fiancé breaks down in tears when talking to him, and Holm's sister clearly wants to get it.

Kabru's not blind to any of this. He weaponises it, really. He's manipulative to an artform! Then he meets Laios. The Monsterfucker.

Laios' sexuality is not immediately clear from the manga. He definitely has a little flame for Marcille - between his awkwardness over touching her, his succubus taking her form, his illusion memory of her focusing on her power and strength - it's not love, I don't think it's even a crush, it's just that "boy sits across the table and stares intently at you" sort of feeling.

He doesn't show any direct interest in men but dearly desires their companionship. He practically kidnaps Shuro and - even though he struggles with Kabru's name at first - takes a liking to him instantly.

So do they make a good ship? Hell no, they're fucking awful together, but it works. Kabru just natually slithers in as advisor, and Laios is more than happy to have someone take all that off his plate. If there's anything there, I think it's one-sided from Kabru, and whatever feelings he has for Laios are based in his total confusion over how Laios just... survives. He finds him fascinating. Intriguing. Possibly sexually. If everyone else is an open book, Laios is the eldritch tome he cannot decipher and will burn him if he touches it. You can see why this ship seems to naturally arise from the canon.

But from Laios' point of view, I think he's... sort of homoerotic asexual? His feelings towards Marcille are more like a fascination with the exotic and monstrous (because she's Not A Tall-Man, and he doesn't want to be one), but his interactions with male companions are much more open and affectionate, even if he's a bit oblivious about it. I think he'd openly appreciate Kabru but wouldn't realise they were in a relationship until literally at the altar.

As another user put it: Laios is a human fascinated with monsters and wants to be one. Kabru sees himself as a monster and is fascinated with humans. They definitely compelement eachother.

#dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #labru #kabru dungeon meshi #laios dungeon meshi #more shipping discourse

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brighteuphony · 2 months

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I LOVE your Sakura AU, thank you so much for making it 🥹

Even though her ending is supposed to be “good”, I always thought that canon didn’t do her justice and threw any character development she had out of the window so she can be with Sasuke

I SO wanted her to finally move on and just let go

And I don’t have anything against Sasusaku

But I think it’d be much more beautiful if Sakura long let go of her feelings by the time Sasuke came to his senses and they developed their relationship TOGETHER from the START

And, once again, your work is AMAZING and I can’t wait for next pieces ❤️

Btw, can I ask a question?) Will we see Naruto’s and Sasuke’s reaction to her condition (maybe flashback to before she left the village?), if not, can you please tell me a bit about it? I can’t imagine them to ignore her after the incident, especially considering that they are at fault as usual

Thank you so much for the kind words! I've also never been a fan of how Sakura ended up. I have no beef with SasuSaku, but my biggest issue was that we never saw Sasuke try to make up/connect with Sakura in the same way we saw him do with Naruto, so their romance in Boruto just felt so...abrupt?

As for what happens to Sakura and her friends....

Sasuke was essentially put on probation/jailed, but broke out and defected to Otogakure as canon. This devastates Sakura, as she's both in deep denial about his contribution to her injuries and also the fact that she basically threw herself in there for nothing. Kakashi shuts down completely. It's a nightmare replay of his own past, including the female team-mate being horrifically injured by the chidori. The guilt of everything is eating him alive so he basically withdraws into himself and uses her demotion to civilian status as a way to trick himself into thinking that if he just 'rips off the bandaid' and cut ties, she'll be able to move on more easily.

Naruto is the only person who is really able/willing to face justice. After the incident, he was basically also put on probation/awaiting trial but busted himself out to join Jiraya.

So for context, Sakura got clapped hard by the Rasengan/Chidori combo (hearing gone, nerve damage, eyes shot etc) and basically had to be put in a coma to try and stop the damage from getting worse, but unfortunately none of the medics in Konoha had the ability to reverse anything but the most superficial damage. So Naruto joined Jiraya in an attempt to find and bring the only person in the world who could give Sakura a sliver of hope.

I felt like this worked well with canon and the desperation to get Tsunade to be hokage and Naruto basically begged her on his hands and knees to help Sakura. Tsunade made it there in the nick of time managed to save everything but her eyes.

But Sakura's life has fallen apart, her career is over, her parents dead from Konoha Crush and her eyes gone...and Naruto is the most convenient and available person to take out all her rage on, so...while he deserves a lot of that rage..she is essentially punching down on who she perceives to be the cause of all her problems.

Lee is in the same boat as her, but while he tries very hard to be there for her, Sakura can't stand to be with him right now, as it just makes the reality of life hit that much worse- especially when she finds out there's a surgery that might give him a better chance than she'll ever have.

And Ino visits often at first, but then it's awkward...and painful as the weeks go by. They have lunch and gossip but at some point, there's not much a shinobi and civilian have in common, especially after the shortage of manpower post Konoha-crush has Ino entrenched in the shinobi life more than ever before.

I hope this answered some stuff! Thank you so much for the questions and the interest! I love Sakura and I just wanna give her the development and power she deserves!!

#naruto #naruto au #sakura #haruno sakura #ino #kakashi #tsunade #rock lee #sasuke #sakura pov: ur life is falling apart #no hating on sakura here #yes she's cruel #but she's also TWELVE and has NO real support #and honestly naruto is part of the problem rn

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dozyrogue · 30 days

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Okay so since the soulfire talk is back I want to talk about how people were so convinced that Bolas is the definition of found family but it seriously isn't.

They were brought together by the fact that in purgatory you lose yourself or you don't and at the time everyone in bolas was not well beforehand and then they were put on an island that basically said "you are going to Lose Yourself." And then they did it all together and that's it. So it's kind of funny when people are like "oh they're no longer family :(" like yeah that's the point.

Then we have soulfire who I say most of the people on that team were alone for they were already close to each other.

Like this was around the time where Tubbo started to feel very alone and then he got pushed into purgatory.

Tina was learning about or remembering her past as a demon and how much she hated it. And she also only really had foolish and bagi. But was also kinda pushing bagi away

Everything about badboyHalo. Him and Tubbo are so alike that it actually drives me crazy. And homestly during that time he only really had dapper.

Bagi who was rejected by her brother that she spent FOREVER TO FIND and the relationship between her and Tina was just starting.

Like even outside of purgatory soulfire still respects each other. It's only badboyHalo and tubbo that are willing to defend each other when other people keep stealing from them. Whenever Tina gets to see her beloved tubward she's always excited to see him and just happy to be with him again. The constant of soulfire members calling tubbo coach?? My heart is melting.

OH AND LETS NOT FORGET Pac, Bagi & bbh going to Purgatory 2 simply to save tubbo and bring tubbo back?? I'm sobbing my eyes out. Why did they make that their canon reason??? Cuz pain.

Yeah there was a moment where they had some respect issues for Tubbo. But Tubbo Time After Time proved himself to be the best leader for soulfire. Like sure anyone could have led soulfire but it's just something about tubbo being the main guy that pulls it all together. And on top of that it wasn't just tubbo leading bbh and tina where also helping and leading as much as they could. It would just lead back to tubbo. Unlike the bolas phil Messiah thing they had going on, even though that was good!

bagi when they came back still had great care for Tubbo. And that's just a here thing bte, they all did. She was one of the few people that saw him cracking and I will always love her for that. Now tubbo and bad have such a strange respect for each other that You Don't See with other characters. And I love that with all my heart.

they are so found family coded and I love them for it.

Found family even if they aren't together constantly anymore

Soulfire you will always always have a fan in me.

If soulfire has no defenders I'm DEAD

#qsmp tubbo #qsmp bagi #qsmp tina #qsmp pac #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp soulfire #qsmp purgatory #im crazy but im free

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apocalypse-shuffle · 1 year

Text

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

────────────────────

“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?, crying?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Ma. God, no one called you that anymore. The way your eyes begin to prickle is a clear indication.

With you Dick wasn’t the type. Once he’d worked himself up to it he’d called you mom; slightly different from the few ways he referred to his bio mother, but something shared between the two of you all the same.

And Tim? Well he wasn’t your child plain and simple. Tim still had his parents for one, and for two he was intrinsically Bruce’s. By the time he’d figured his way into the Batcave you’d been gone, most of your shit moved out of the manor, and desperately waving divorce papers Bruce refused to acknowledge in the air. You didn’t have anything to do with his indoctrination outside of exactly one instance of him finding you to ask if you’d reconsider the separation. Some Batman needed a Robin and Bruce Wayne needed his wife type shit.

Either way Tim didn’t call you any rendition of mom because you weren’t his. The most you got was him addressing you by your maiden name and then eventually your first and you were content with that.

Then if he didn’t call you mom, the girls sure as hell didn’t either. Outside of Barbara the others never even became regular conversation partners. Cass was a rare sighting in your life and Stephanie and you’s relationship would never progress past the casual advocacy you tried giving her because she was another dead Robin to add to what’s now technically a list.

At the end of the day, out of all the people who considered you a mother, only Jason added that ‘a’ and you wanted to grip that name tight and hold it to you. Break your ribs open and force it into your chest cavity. The need to fulfill that ache cuts deep and you take a step forward.

Jason startles though, undoing all his own forward progress, and you falter. That’s right. Jason didn’t like for people to touch him. Definitely didn’t like hugs either. Not surprise ones at least. Before his death you’d gotten close enough he didn’t mind when you swooped in, but now?

“Can I-? Can I hug you?” You press trembling lips together for another horrible swallow. “Please…?”

Jason jerks, two hastily aborted movements at once, before his obstructed voice meets your ears.

“Fine.”

You practically fall on him before pulling him into you. Unfortunately he’s just as stiff as his voice and you have to take a second to figure out how to slot against him.

Jason fits in your arms differently than he used to - broader and taller by a mile - but after a few beats he relaxes into them just the same. The subtle addition of weight makes a sob bubble up your throat.

You rap your knuckles on the side of the helmet.

“Take this shit off.”

He hesitates and a sharp pang manages to worm its way into the already shitty cocktail of emotions you’re feeling. It hits your spine like lightning, forces you up and has you an arms length away in half an inhale.

Maybe before now you’d been going through too much all at once for the trepidation to hit, but it was hitting now. You’d never seen Hood without- well without the Hood. Only Jumbie raised from the dead the way Jason did, and while you’d take your son anyway you could get him you wouldn’t accept some Thing parading around in his skin.

Reading your burst of movement for what it is, Jason backtracks, rising arms dropping to his sides. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“Jason Peter-” you inhale deeply, catching yourself, and hold a hand up to stop him. You both ignore the obvious way it trembles. “-only… if…if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything.”

He’s slow to nod, weight shifting from his left to his right leg and back again before he says something too low for you to hear. You’re about to ask him to repeat when he speaks up, this time aiming his voice somewhere around your shoulder while bowing his head.

“No, I- Alright. Just hold on.”

Haunches suitably raised and heart in your throat you pay close attention as the helmet comes up, Jason having released some catch in the back.

It goes over, the helmet clatters to the ground, and the man who stares back at you is…hard to place.

The low fluorescent lighting of the narrow room combined with the concrete walls casts soft enough shadows over his face that while his features are warped they’re not discernible. Which means you can’t completely rule out the uncanniness wafting off of him as just your brain (along with your entire perception of the universe) splinting in half.

It makes your face heat up. He looks familiar, but you can’t say you wouldn’t have passed him straight if you’d seen him on the street. He’s too big for one, even for how you’d all imagined he’d look grown up, standing more than a foot taller than the last day you saw him. Taller than malnourishment would’ve ever let him be.

The sob you let out makes you both flinch.

One hand snaps to your mouth, the other waving him off.

“I’m sorry I- I don’t-. This is just-”

Even with the way he’s leaning away from you he shakes his head. “I get it, it's fine.”

His voice is faint, cut up and hoarse like he hasn’t used it in a while, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve heard in ages.

“Oh,” you laugh. The wet kind that makes your throat sticky. You can only stare at him, blurry form and all, words lost to you.

Eventually, after watching your fervent effort to wipe away tears that are in no way inclined to give you a break, arms crossed Jason takes a half step forward with a shrug.

“We can…try again?”

The next little laugh you let out you practically choke on but you nod all the same.

When Jason’s the first to move your heart starts speeding away like an overexcited middle school drumline. You roll with it though, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes so they’re dry enough for you to actually see him clearly for a few seconds.

When he’s directly in front of you your hands come up slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to move away. Or maybe to vanish.

When he does neither, only giving you a guarded look, you allow yourself to touch.

Problem is, the domino mask he’s wearing very quickly gets in your way and on your nerves when you move to frame his face. Quickly feels like if it’s not gone, if you can’t see his eyes, you’ll throw up.

To stop yourself from taking the risk and ripping it off you have to take a deep breath. Have to force down the thick build up of saliva gathering in your mouth so it pushes back the bile climbing up your throat.

“I’d like to see my son, Jason. All of you.”

To emphasize your point you tap the tip of your nail against the mask. There’s no intention on your part to cross his boundary but Jason’s hands snap up to hold onto your wrists all the same.

You look into the white lenses of his domino, fingers buzzing along the corner of the mask closest to them. His mouth twists into a frown.

“Please?”

You beg with the same ferocity a grieving mother once used when begging for her child back.

“You’re asking for a lot.”

He lets go and he takes a couple steps back and you don’t cry.

No, instead you swing your hands behind you. Clasping them together in a poor attempt to stop the buzzing sensation that travels from the tips of your fingers to take over your entire hand.

“Mmm,” you incline your head. “Well. I did help a boy get over first date jitters with a made up song once. Let that same boy talk me through an entire dissertations’ worth of his analysis of Their Eyes Were Watching God - as choppy as it was - because TWMS wouldn’t allow him to present it in class. Let him skip going to that same school and cry to me for hours after the death of Gloria Stanson. Remember a knife hidden in the corner on the highest shelf in his closet, and I remember not revealing any of that when I gave his eulogy because he once asked me to keep the important things between the two of us. So you don’t have to show me, but I think I make a pretty good qualifier when it comes to keeping this safe.”

You point straight to where his heart is tucked safely behind layers of gray armor before shrugging.

From the way his brows furrow over the domino you know he’s at least thinking about it so you step away to pick up your disregarded mask and stuff it in your waistband.

One blink. Six.

“You remember Rena?”

In front of him again, you rock back on your heels. “Mhm. And the ‘how to tie a tie’ lessons me and Bruce walked you through even though you didn’t wear a suit to that date. Remember that too.”

Jason’s smile is crooked on his face but it’s nonetheless present as he makes a noise of agreement.

“I’d just wanted to spend time with you two, I was never planning on wearing a suit to go to the skating rink.”

“We figured.”

You’re rolling onto the balls of your feet when that small smile drops and he shakes his head.

“I’m not that same boy anymore.”

You take in the way he could raise his hand and so easily touch the ceiling without having to jump. You clear the phlegm from your throat.

“I can tell.”

Jason grunts and makes a general gesture indicating something somewhere behind you.

“And I got no interest in trying to live up to whatever fucked up embalment Bruce’s got going on with my burnt suit in that case.”

That suit. Bruce’s memorial. His warning. Your breath hitches as you think of the smell of crisped blood and methanol. If Jason didn’t want to talk about it you sure as shit weren’t going to.

“I will one hundred percent take that into account.” You keep it simple, rocking on your heels again. He wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable so there wasn’t really any debate to be had. “You wanna be treated as you are? I can do that.”

Moments pass once you’ve said your peace where Jason does nothing but stare at you. The only indication he’s at all alive being his shoulders still moving - and you are watching. Eyeing that tell tale up and down like your own life will end at its falter. The pattern is slow enough to come off as pacivity but the time between each rise and fall is too measured to be uncontrolled. Exactly three point eleven seconds one way and three point eleven seconds the other. Every time.

Then he sighs, curses, and the little veil of dissolvent for the adhesive that adheres the mask to his face is in his hand. A different vial and color than when he was Robin; you don’t know why you thought it’d be the same. Or why it makes your heart clench that it’s not.

Between one thrum of the fluorescent lights and the next Jason is peeling away the domino, and you would be lying if you claimed to know where it disappeared to after that. Too caught up on what he’d been hiding to track it.

Blue. Nothing more and nothing less. Just blessedly familiar, vibrant blue. Not the dull gray they’d become by the time you were given the chance to put a gruesome sight of a child six feet under.

The “Oh wow,” tumbles from you without permission and then there’s zero hope for the waterworks you’d been holding back. The levee fails and you’re bawling before you know it. Barely holding back snot and who knows what else since you already feel like screaming.

At that point there’s no carefully thought out sentence for you to spew, no more hesitancy, no more measured breathing, and linear thought. Just the crushing need to have him close to you again.

You’re rushing forward before you know.

Wrapping your arms around Jason the next go around is both the best and the worst thing. You accommodate his new size faster, already writing over the ways he used to fit against you with the ways he does so now, but he’s still so stiff and he’s not reciprocating the hug either.

Maybe you should let go. You crossed the boundary too fast. Were too reckless. You literally have training on this and now you’re crowding him.

Okay, you’re pulling away. It’s a herculean effort but you’re forcing your arms from around his middle. You’ve got to, you don’t want to scare him off. Not when you just got him back.

There’s a soft “Not yet,” mumbled into your shoulder and then arms finally come around yours and you don’t hesitate to snap your own back into place.

He’s hugging you back.

You cry a little harder and bring one of your arms up to drape across his shoulders, pulling him closer. When you start rocking and Jason copies your momentum you press a kiss onto his temple.

“Hi,” you stutter out. Another sob. “Hi baby.”

Since he’s finally letting his arms wrap around you you don’t hesitate to run dark fingers through the truly unruly mass of black curls on his head. His hairs’ damp - most likely from sweat - but cool. Probably being tempered by the cold air blowing into the room.

It’s when you press a kiss to his forehead that you feel something else wet and your breath stutters.

“It’s okay. I got you, everything’s okay,” you whisper.

“God Ma-” his voice cracks and then you can hear the sobs he’s trying to muffle into your suit. “No it’s not.”

“I know,” you sob. “I’m sorry- so so fucking sorry.”

You sniffle and pull away to see him better. Jason’s face is flushed, his eyes wet, and cheeks streaked with tears shed. You hold your hands up to frame his face for a second time and run your thumbs through the tear tracks. His chest heaves as his body tries to regulate his breathing.

Jason clears his throat, gaze boring into yours. “Hi,” he says.

You smile, finally beginning to map out his face. First you move to frame his cheeks, too feel the warmth in them. To see if they still feel familiar. They don’t; you force yourself to accept that fact without letting it show in your expression, letting out a measured exhale before continuing. You find his jaw is more defined now too, cheeks devoid of the baby fat of five years prior.

From then on brushing your thumbs along his brows, over the bridge of his nose, traveling over his ears and skirting around his hairline - it all fills your mind with incoherent cheers.

Your thumbs hover over Jason’s eyes and you hum when he closes them for you.

The skin underneath your shaved off pads is soft. The thin layer of protection allows you to feel how his eyeballs shift, to see the way his veins show stark under light skin, to clock the life thrumming through him.

It makes your heart feel so goddamn light. You can’t stop smiling at the sight of him. Eyes still wet but clear.

“I feel like such a horrible mother,” you hiccup, hands slide down so you can once again cup his face. “I barely recognize you.”

Jason’s breathing shakes nearly in tandem with yours and his eyes squeeze tighter shut, head turning away.

“Don’t.” He takes a second to look up. Look right through you. Lashes wet and glassy eyes open, voice grating over his next words. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame any of you for that, but especially not you.”

What you want to do is argue. You should’ve never let him put on that suit in the first place, one fucked up son should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve dropped the case you were working the second you’d heard he’d run away and you should’ve found him. Instead you keep your thoughts personal, pinning them to your brain as if it’s a cushion so that you’ll never forget, and pull your son closer. An action which he allows, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you whisper into his hair. The way he instantly shakes his head makes the cool strands tickle your jawline.

“You can’t mean that.”

“If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have said it, Jay.”

Jason tenses before responding, words spewing without warning.

“Yeah except I’ve killed people, and I don’t regret it, and Bruce hates that - and you probably do too - but his way isn’t good enough. The people in this city deserve better so I’m doing what’s necessary-”

And that has you bristling. He must notice too because he stops short and edges away, face steeping. Caught somewhere between wanting to leave and wanting to fully kick start an argument.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! I had to split this bitch in two cause it was 5,000+ words and I’m not in the business of under-indulging myself.

Listen, I’ve looked into it. Every mother/mother figure Jason’s ever had he’s referred to as “Mom”, but me personally, I didn’t grow up addressing my own mother that way so I wanted to play around with “Ma” (differentiate a little). What's funny though, is that I’ve read Dick referring to his mother as both “Ma” and “Mom” so that’s fun.

• TWMS = Thomas Wayne Middle School

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

Tagged: @aarinisreading, @niphredil-14, @mxtokko, @calsjack, @brunnetteiwik

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revenantghost · 1 year

Text

Tristamp Wolfwood is a bit different than his counterparts, yeah? And I don’t mean that in a bad way, Orange is going somewhere with it, but it’s very different from what they’ve done with Vash and Meryl imo. With them, I feel like we got a glimpse of pre-canon. With Wolfwood... Orange is up to something, and it goddamn terrifies me. I love him dearly, he has some many moments that make me smile and go, “Yeah, that’s Wolfwood, my beloved asshole.” But it’s different. Oh so very different.

I’m just gonna point out a few examples of things I think are different enough to note here (drawing comparisons from Trimax since that was the source for Tristamp, but I’ll try not to spoil much--just don’t Google names you don’t recognize), and then go a little off the rails with a couple theories (spoilers there, click the read more at your own peril). This is DEFINITELY not everything, and maybe my takes are a bit off, idk. If there’s something you’ve picked up on, definitely feel free to add it!

Well, here goes:

My dude is a mess. Wolfwood is typically put together and some would call him smooth (he’s a mess inside always, though) in his other incarnations. Orange pointed out at Sakuracon that the characters are supposed to look younger and more immature in Tristamp, and Wolfwood specifically is supposed to look like he can’t dress himself (lmao). They said they have their reasons but just didn’t have time to explore them in canon. So, I can make assumptions, but I’ll wait to see what comes in the future.

Another one that staff talked about in a recent interview is that Wolfwood is technically a priest according to his contract, but he calls himself an undertaker. Yeah, yeah, edgelord Tristamp Wolfwood and all that, but I’ve seen people call back to how, in the manga, it’s Vash that always takes the time to bury the dead. Wolfwood even chews him out a bit for this. But it’s literally in our introduction to him in this version. He carries the weight of the dead with him enough to make it part of his title, and that’s different for him.

I could be misremembering with this one. But I distinctly remember being surprised when I read Trimax because Wolfwood going into the Eye of Michael seemed more of his own choice than it is in Tristamp (not that a literal child could consent to, you know, torture and abuse)? But either way Wolfwood loathes the Eye of Michael from the get-go here, he doesn’t stay by choice and actively tries to escape. Just like all these choices he makes in Tristamp (which is MASSIVELY different in general), he does it for someone else. He can’t try to escape again, because they have Livio.

Speaking of! Livio!!! This was another thing that caught me by surprise going from Tristamp to Trimax, their relationship is so much different here, so much softer and it hurts in a beautiful way. I feel like less is more here to avoid spoilers, but this introduction pre-Trimax-canon and any future conflict with this backstory... is very different.

Holy hell, a moment like this happening so early?! Vash and Wolfwood having ideological differences and not understanding each other takes up so much time in Trimax. But over the course of three episodes, we go from Wolfwood killing someone that Vash wanted to save (props to Tristamp for making that gutpunch even more personal, ouch--though points deducted for not having the, “Shoot,” moment there), to Vash seeing how very similar they are and getting a grasp of why Wolfwood is the way he is. Wolfwood is so much softer in Tristamp. He’s way more emotional, he cares so deeply for things outside of himself, and he doesn’t have that apathetic bitterness. Staff have said that our main characters will be a lot more recognizable post-timeskip, so some shit is gonna happen to this man, but this is a fundamental shift in the early days of their relationship.

AGAIN!!! Wolfwood is doing this whole mission, betraying Vash, to save the orphanage. He didn’t have to listen to Vash trying to save the sandsteamer. It doesn’t matter if Vash is pissy if Wolfwood blew up the ship to save the orphanage, because that’s his end goal. He has a giant laser that just blew through an entire giant worm, this ship is nothing. Wolfwood’s trying to cling to the monster that he sees himself as, trying to stay the Punisher, but he’s not. He already has enough faith in Vash to trust him with everything he cares about. This takes a lot of development time for Wolfwood to trust Vash like this in Trimax--and even in the very end, he still doesn’t trust Vash with this. (If you know, you know.)

AGAIN!!!!! Wolfwood cares!!! He does not need to question if Vash is sure, if he thinks he can make up with or convince Knives or whatever, in fact he shouldn’t. He should give Vash no reason to question getting to July. But Wolfwood, be careful, your feelings are showing. Wolfwood’s getting worried about Vash. Even though all he needs to do is keep his head down and get this dork to July.

This was never Trimax Wolfwood’s motivation. Whatever drove him left him hollow and empty, he did not care. Even when he saw things starting to go south and he wanted out, Vash ended up being right: he was too much of a coward to do anything about it. (If you know, you know.) I had wondered, after Legato tried to bulldoze everything he loved, why the hell didn’t Wolfwood just desert the mission and team up with the gang. He already has such a deep connection with them. But this would be why.

WOLFWOOD IS NO LONGER CONTRACTED BY THE EYE OF MICHAEL AT THE END OF THE SEASON??? Some people say that Wolfwood still works for them, but tbh for what reason? They’re about to end the world. And then what about this line? He wouldn’t exactly have a choice, would he? I do think we’re gonna meet Chapel (right before Livio shoots himself, you’ll hear a voice and see a silhouette (not Razlo, though he’s there too) that seems to be a “new” character), and Wolfwood might end up working under him for some fucked up reason... But if not, this changes everything. It already changes everything considering how big Wolfwood escorting Vash to Knives is. But that’s done now. And because Vash saw right through him the first time, if Wolfwood comes back to do the same thing again, it might feel cheap and a little silly.

MERYL!!! Trimax is basically the Vash and Wolfwood show, right? The girls are around, but mainly their interactions are with Vash. But he and Meryl interact so much just over the course of twelve episodes. They even have that adorable group shot. She matters enough that he came back to rescue her, and the two of them worry about Vash together in the finale. Who knows what happened post-finale, but Wolfwood’s self isolation is already shot to hell. He’s more big brother Nico than he’d had the chance to be in awhile, he has so many people to care for.

So the danger has passed, Vash’s roots are back inside of him, the orphanage should be fine. But Wolfwood comes back for them. Yeah, yeah, the stupid cigarette excuse, but this is Wolfwood, not Vash. He didn’t come back because of the cigarette debt and we all know it. (Also kinda hoping that him saying what he does about fighting Knives being crazy is foreshadowing for some ridiculous 1v1 fight between them, had to throw that in there)

Now, theories Trimax spoiler time bby (I’ll also post any corrections under the cut):

EDIT 1: I was bonkers wrong on the Tristamp timeline (it takes place from May 25th to July 21st, not including the epilogue), so I just deleted that bit from the og post. I cannot remember where I got that number in my brain.

They are doing something with this man and I hate it as much as I love it. Every other character can go off and follow similar paths but they just nuked the entirety of Wolfwood’s storyline by having him be finished getting Vash to Knives and him choosing to trust Vash so goddamn early. And in less than a week of canon time!!! ORANGE WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!

They’ve knocked everything out of the park so far, I had so many concerns about what they were doing while watching, and they squashed most of them. So I choose to have faith that Orange has a brilliant plan that will crush my emotions in mind. It will probably eviscerate us just like Trimax did. But I have two theories as to how this could go:

First: And by far the most likely: all roads lead to that goddamned couch. They changed a ton of things, but just to make it all hurt in a new and exciting way. Don’t get me wrong, this was the final straw in making Trimax one of my favorite manga ever--Wolfwood’s character arc is one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever read. I’m a bit nervous because we’ve already shifted that arc so much, but there’s a lot of room to fuck us all up in this one. I imagine the final confrontation will still be between the two brothers, but I imagine the context will be different.

Wolfwood’s already chosen to spare Livio, so that won’t be the clincher, but there are so many things that Wolfwood wants to fight for now to use against him. Something in the timeskip will probably firm up his ideals to be the opposite of Vash’s in a different way than before, but I imagine we’ll get at least a season of them being goofy and learning how to live and regain their humanity together before they’re couched. :’) And now the girls are going to be a bigger part of it to make the grief all that greater :’))) Thanks in advance, Orange :’))))))

Second: No couch??? I know, then what would be the point? He’s doomed in every universe, how will it be as powerful if they don’t do that here??? And I agree, I think this is way less likely. But Wolfwood has already accepted the power of anime Jesus friendship into his life, and that’s a huge part of what lead to his death. Not that I don’t think it’s still likely for Tristamp Wolfwood to think it’s too much to ask Vash to step away from the conflict with Knives for whatever his personal struggles are, but... man that sandsteamer incident is foreshadowing something and I’m afraid. It shifted so much in a way that is so significant, I feel like I’m not doing it justice with my words.

Speaking of possible foreshadowing: Wolfwood isn’t the product of random experimenting like he was in Trimax, he’s the product of plant experimentation. And Vash can heal plants. Again, that’s a big ol’ stretch, as I think that they made the Gung Ho Guns a product of plant experimentation to try and explain the magic powers they all have, and it’s a very smooth idea imo. But it haunts me. Also, given that Conrad has probably been kept alive through fucked up plant methods and how long Rollo remained the same, and Conrad said the only flaw in his experiments were that they had to eat and drink... does Wolfwood and Gung Ho Gun friends have an extended lifespan??? Okay, getting off topic, sorry :’D

Basically, Wolfwood has already made huge leaps and bounds in trusting Vash, even listening to Meryl, and growing a heart for humanity. To the point I was half-afraid this guy was going to die in the finale, because we’ve already seen so much of his character arc. (It would have been a poor choice and I’m happy it didn’t happen EVEN IF I’M STILL AFRAID). And he’s based off of Trimax Wolfwood quite heavily! You can see it in the core of his personality still!!! WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO WITH HIM???

I doubt either of these ideas are going to be quite right, watch as Orange works in a secret, third thing that I can’t even imagine lmao. But this has been driving me absolutely bonkers and I had to share. This is still Wolfwood, and I have a feeling he’s only going to be more and more of the lovable asshole from here on out. But I have no idea where we’re going with it.

Holy hell, this was a long post. If you made it to the end of my insane ramblings well, uh... congrats??? I hope it was somewhat worth the read???? I’m so sorry?????? Thank you??????????

#Trigun #Trigun Stampede #Tristamp #Trimax #Trigun Maximum #Trigun Meta #I'm so tired I'm sorry about any and all typos #And also if this is stupid #It's just been GNAWING AT ME #WOLFWOOD I LOVE YOU BUT YOU SCARE ME #Long Post #My Trigun Meta

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starrailstories · 5 months

Note

Hey! Could you write something about Blade having a keeper of time/ timekeeper s/o? ♥

first ask!!! let's hecking goooooooo

i wanted to write headcanons but then one thing led to another and it's a short story that i hope you enjoy

Blade x gn!Timekeeper!S/O — Seen in the shards

warnings: mentions of blade's depression and suicidal thoughts (canon-compliant), possibly ooc but i really really hope i wrote him well

Blade is destruction incarnate, the mara and rage and grief taking over him sporadically, like bile rising to the throat. He is an effective tool of the Hunters (ironic, isn't it? an abomination like him hardly can Hunt), and many would think that this is all he is, a bounty and a sin and a loosely held leash.

You know him differently, though. You know him in the moments of repose in-between the storm that he brings along, and in those moments, he feels like a large shard of time away from where he'd fit. It's always shards with him, glimpses of past mistakes, and battles, and memories, but mostly sorrow. You think of the ways time cracks as you struggle to keep it whole, revealing the uncomfortable truths you dare not mention to the IPC or the Intelligentsia Guild. It's kind of similar, like if you try just enough, you'll see the complete picture once again.

And he doesn't get you at first, because collecting broken shards and piecing them back is not what Blade does. Blade is all about burning bridges, throwing himself into battle headfirst, Blade does - not - get it when you show concern or worry, when you offer to share a meal, when you tend to a wound of his, when you try and protect him in battle, because he isn't supposed to be together, only apart, shatter and shatter and shatter in hopes that one day, he'll just lie there broken and dead and gone.

You care and that hurts, for some reason, hurts in a way that doesn't sate his urge to be hurt.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

"I almost pity you, Bladie. But envy you all the same," Kafka drops one day as they're sat in a boujee cafe on a planet that will experience a Stellaron catastrophe in about three system hours. She raises her cup of tea to her lips almost immediately, but he catches a hint of a smile.

"Pity, I understand, but I do not welcome it. However, what of the envy?"

Kafka set down her cup gently, in a manner that she would always do, and her smile faded.

"Soon, you would know the meaning of fear. You knew it once, but in a different lifetime. Now, you will know it again, and it will hurt in different ways. It's fascinating."

She spoke with a certainty, as if reciting a script. Possibly that was the case, and that was more sad than anything. Given a power to make anyone listen, but stuck saying words someone else wrote.

"So it will happen?"

"As much as anything said by Destiny's Slave will. There's a seed for fear in that, too. You will resent your wish and your fate, but it still will happen, even if you don't want it to happen anymore."

Right. Blade looks away, because he doesn't usually decipher the grand scheme of things. He was promised a death and a settling of the score, and he is content with that, content in the way a sword is content to rest in its sheath. Kafka reaches across the table to touch his forehead as if to impart a wisdom.

She'd point a gun to his head and he'd be just as apathetic.

"Listen. I am telling you this for your sake, after all."

There's no command behind the word, and Blade regrets this, because thinking he dislikes most of all.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fear is a foreign concept, but the more you reach out to him with your care, the more he starts to grasp it. He knows of your strength, he knows of your capabilities, he sees you constantly fixing time itself, reaching into the molten metal with hands exposed and heart bare, to stitch all together before the past pours into the present and the future into the past and a sea of fake stars replaces the cosmos you traverse (you told him once of a world inside an egg one time, where the sky is fake and the up is down and why does he remember these trivial things again).

But he also knows of his own strength, and how all that he touches goes awry, and that is scary — to see you reach out when he knows full well how your care might destroy you, how he might destroy you.

"You shouldn't be picking up the shards. They'd cut you," he says one time after another crack is restored and the anomaly of the Fragmentum shifts into a stable state. His sword drags on the ground, leaving a distinctly red trace. You know he isn't speaking about the timeline.

"Those are big words coming from someone carrying a sword made of shards," you smile like you always do and it hurts. Because it hurts to be cared for and treated like a person and where were you those centuries ago when dying still felt memorable and there was something besides the anger?

He wishes he fell into a timeline anomaly back then because that would mean even for a moment, being caught by you, and that is a scary thought.

"Blade?" he's zoning out. Bad. He is supposed to keep himself in check, because most people are capable of dying and he is a remarkably well-working death machine.

"I will say this more clearly: if you keep reaching out to me, you will die."

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You don't stop because... actually why. Blade still doesn't get it. Blade doesn't speak up anymore, a sword in its sheath, but he thinks sometimes. Thinking is still a horrible pastime activity. But he does wonder about what it would have felt like to have met you earlier, when there was some feeling left in him.

He wonders if you bandaging a wound of his would make him feel safe. He wonders if the snacks you buy on the planets you visit would make him feel sated. He wonders if after a long day, sleeping next to each other would make him feel truly content.

Dangerous thoughts, yet strangely warm, like candlelight.

You plop on the bed of a dingy hotel room you two are staying at. Blade cares little about the quality of the establishment, but he does care about security, and keeping on the down low is of the essence. He stores his sword next to his side of the bed, to draw if a fight occurs.

He doesn't sleep anyway, simply lies in a dreamless haze, so nothing would catch him off-guard.

"Room's tiny. Bed's hard as a rock, too," you make small talk, untying the laces of your boots.

"Mhm," Blade hums. He thinks that there were free rooms in the hotel. With two beds in each, no less. He doesn't bring this up because it's safer to stay close together and that's the only reason.

"And it's cold."

"Mhm," he hums again. He doesn't feel much in terms of warmth or coldness.

You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he checks for emergency exit pathways and makes notes of useful items.

"Sometimes I wish there were no anomalies or Stellarons out there. Then we wouldn't have large bounties on our heads and we'd be able to afford all the good hotels."

"We wouldn't have met then. And this room is sufficient."

Blade says sufficient, but for the last while, he found sufficient lacking. He wanted good things, despite being undeserving, and it hurt, too, because he knew all too well what happened to the good things in his life.

He lies down next to you, six inches, seven hundred years and a universe apart.

"Would we? I'd still have found you, I feel like."

It feels weird to hear this. He remembers how you once got hurt because you tried to block a hit meant for him. It was a long time ago, before that could hurt. It wasn't anything serious, but now, guilt eats at him each time he notices the faint scar on your shoulder. He drifts his gaze left, and there it is, a reminder.

And he also sees that you're cold.

What comes next is a whim and Blade never acts on whims. But he turns on the bed and drags you into an embrace.

"You wouldn't have liked what you've found."

Because then he'd be a mara-struck abomination, immortal mess of ginkgo leaves and dripping bile and the same names roared so much that no one would hear what he says. He still is like that, just somewhat grounded.

"You always decide for me. But isn't it up to me to weigh my choices, Blade?"

No, he wants to say, it's not. He's been mortal and stupid before, and that was his mistake. For that, he must pay a price. He doesn't want you to be hurt that way because you, unlike him, don't deserve this.

But he says none of it, as you raise your hand and touch his cheek and it's warm and it hurts—

His voice breaks, in both anger and fear, "I don't want you fixing me. I know you want to pick up the shards and glue them together. But you will regret that wish."

He isn't Yingxing and he won't be Yingxing ever again. What was him died on the Xianzhou Luofu, and it died again and again and again until what was left couldn't recall the deaths any longer. Then, a mess of shards, an empty husk, he was Blade, and he couldn't ever go back.

You smile gently at him.

"I know. If you ever decide to piece the shards together, it should be your choice and not mine, and I have no deal interfering with that. But still, I want to see all of you, Blade. Broken or not."

It's scary because admitting that he wants you to see him too would mean accepting that it won't change a thing. The script is merciless and uncaring. Even if he allows himself to love you, he is already destined to die as part of the performance. It's scary because it changes everything. It's scary because it changes nothing.

He shifts on the bed, so that you're face to face.

"May I kiss you?"

You close the distance first, as you always do, and he, for the first time in seven hundred years, feels seen.

#blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #blade hsr #blade honkai #hsr #yingxing

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actuallysaiyan · 5 months

Text

I Wanna Be Adored(Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)

warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION, a fix-it fic, mentions of major character death, fluff, angst, mentions of violence/dark themes, lots of sadness, happy ending, flashback scenes are in italics, canon divergent/AU word count: 1.8k pairings: Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader a/n: I haven't watched the newest episode of JJK, but I remember the feeling I had when I read that chapter in the manga. Here's for all the ones who hate the canon story in the manga!

The night felt colder than it should have. He knows he shouldn’t have ever let you go off on your own, but everything was just absolute chaos that night. He remembers being with Megumi and Ino and then trying to make a point of getting back to you. Kento wasn’t going to let this night end in disaster when it came to you. You were his shining light, his reason to live. If he’s got to maim or kill to get back to you, he will. He absolutely would do anything to make sure no harm came to you.

The problem was how good of a sorcerer you are. Not that he didn’t believe you couldn’t take care of yourself, but he knows you enjoy throwing yourself into battle so much. He’s seen you with that same smirk Gojo usually sports. The two of you aren’t too far off in terms of personality. The same things that irk him about Gojo, they are so endearing in you. You shine so beautifully. You show him things he’s so long forgotten.

That’s why it was so important to him to find you. Despite the chaos and the destruction, Nanami was going to find you and hold you close. He’d fully confess his feelings to you, though you were already sure you knew he wanted to settle down with you and start a family. But Namami wasn’t going to let this chance pass him by. He curses himself for being so silly for waiting so long to finally spill the beans to you. Still, he knows you won’t judge him.

An uncontrollable rage filled Kento as he found the body of Ijichi lying on the ground. Though he initially believes the man to be dead, Kento is relieved to know that he’s going to be able to help him. The sudden realization of just how intense all of this is hits Kento and he’s suddenly so scared to find you in such a way. He’s scared that you might have gotten a little too cocky with everything and that you jumped head first in a battle that might have been too much for you.

After finding Nobara and Nitta, Kento vows that the next thing he’s going to do is to find you. He won’t do anything stupid or rash. Even after wasting Shigemo, Kento knows he needs to find you. His heart races with every step he takes. His anger is almost overtaking him as he begins to imagine the worst of the worst.

If he found your body on the ground, broken and bruised and bleeding, he’s so sure he’d lose his mind. You are utterly the only thing that matters in his entire life. He needs you more than you’ll ever know. You really mean that much to him, Before you, Kento was a shell of a man. You brought light into his heart and it has never gone out.

Things become even more dire as he meets up with Maki and Naobito Zenin. Not being able to find you makes Kento more nervous. The curses that come next seem to be relentless and he finds himself in the middle of a serious attack. The pain is incredible, but the pain of not being able to see you before he loses his life is even worse. Kento knows this is more than likely the end for himself.

Meanwhile, you’re out of your mind trying to find your lover. You knew you shouldn’t have run off either, but the call of a good fight to protect the people you love is what fueled you to keep going. You were going to fight until your last breath if that’s what it took to protect everyone and keep the world safe. Even after finding out that Satoru was sealed, you still took it upon yourself to take the lead in many of these fights.

You tend to the wounded when you can, but you still can’t stop thinking about Kento. You worry dearly for the love of your life. You look for him everywhere you can, but you’re always stopped by something or someone else. When you aren’t actively defeating curses, you’re on the move to the next battle. And when you’re not battling or moving to another part of the area, you’re helping the wounded or you’re caring for those who are about to perish.

Your heart clenches when you begin to imagine the worst. You think about finding your lover on the ground, broken and cracked like he’s nothing. Discarded pile of flesh and bones for you to discover in horror. It terrifies you to think that you may never get to kiss him again. You may never get to hold him. Never get to see that gorgeous smile of his again. It’s killing you inside to be apart from Kento. He’s always been your rock, your knight in shining armor. Everything about him is perfect in your eyes.

You hold out hope that you’ll be reunited with your lover soon. You’ll do anything to make sure you see him again. This night will be a very old memory one day, one you two will think was crazy and you’ll reminisce about how much you’ve gone through this night.

After the fight with Dagon, Kento wonders truly if this is the end of the road for him. He thinks of your beautiful face, that shining smile. It’s enough to keep him going, but he’s more than ready to let this all end. He knows you’ll be distraught, but you’re strong enough to get through it all without him. It’ll take some time, but you’ll fight through the pain of losing him. With a good support team and some therapy, Kento knows that you’ll make it through this. Once he emerges from the domain, he’s met with the evil curse Jogo. The pain is searing through his body as he is almost completely incinerated. He lays on the ground, writhing in pain. Even if he lives through this, you probably won’t even be able to look at him the same way. Not with his damaged eye and his scars. You’ll probably want to leave him and live a much better life than to have to take care of such a scarred man.

The later it gets, the more terrified you get. You know that you’re probably going to lose the love of your life in this battle. He won’t be returning to you. You’ll find him just as you pictured before, lying in a heap of his own blood and bones. The lifeless body of your lover will be the thing that renders you completely insane. How will you even live on without him? You try to remain calm, but you’re so damn scared. You’re fucking losing it.

You set off on your own, in search of the man who has shown you just how beautiful life is. You go looking for him, knowing this might be your last hope. Maybe you’re both strong enough to get through this. Your eyes are scanning your surroundings as you call out his name. Your heart is wrenching in your chest as you begin to find yourself losing hope. You’re about to turn around and search elsewhere when you spot him. You gasp in shock as you see him.

That voice…

It belongs to the curse Mahito. You shudder as you watch him taunt your lover. You feel like you’re running too slow to reach Kento. You shout his name, and Mahito mocks you as well. He’s yelling Kento’s name in the same desperate tone you are, angering your lover even more. Kento turns to look at you and you get to see just how badly he was hurt. You feel your heart breaking. Your beautiful lover has been so disfigured and all you want to do is reach him and hold him close. Before you can even do anything, you watch in horror as Mahito gleefully sets his sights on your lover.

“Nanamin?” Yuji’s gentle voice can be heard, and Kento turns towards his student. There’s a small smile on his face.

“You’ve got it from here,” Kento tells Yuji, then he turns to you and smiles brightly.

A loud scream escapes you as you watch your lover be killed right in front of you. You collapse on your knees as Yuji becomes enraged. The last thing Kento remembers is the sound of your voice…

“Daddy?” a soft voice is heard from the doorway. Kento opens his good eye, peeking over at the blonde little girl standing there.

Kento stretches lightly, then he sits up on the bed. He’s pretty sure he was dreaming of that dreadful night again. Kento is still not sure how he managed to escape that last attack from Mahito, but he is very glad he did. Kento smiles as he sees his daughter pitter-pattering her way into the room.

“Were you sleepin’, daddy?” she asks as she hops onto the bed. Even though his wounds have healed over the years, she is still very careful not to hurt him on his sensitive side.

“Yeah, I guess I was.” Kento says with a chuckle, pulling his little girl closer to him. She nuzzles her face into his chest, sighing happily as she gets a whiff of her father’s comforting scent. These days, he smells like old books and cozy blankets.

There’s a knock on the bedroom door and Kento’s heart swells with affection when he sees you with a tray of food. You’ve got that same playful smirk spread on your face like you always did, but motherhood has tamed you a little. You set the tray down on the bedside table and you join your two loved ones on the bed.

“Were you having that dream again?” You ask Kento, seeing the dazed look in his good eye. He keeps the other one covered with an eyepatch most times.

Kento sighs and he nods, “Yeah…that was some night, huh?”

Your daughter presses a soft kiss on her father’s cheek, clinging to him by wrapping her arms around his neck. He kisses the top of her head, then he ruffles her blonde curls. He can’t believe just how fortunate he is to have both of you. After that dreadful night, Kento retired and you two moved somewhere calm and relaxing. He got the chance to read all those books he thought he’d never get the chance. And of course, he started a family with you quite quickly.

“I’m so glad I didn’t lose you that night,” you murmur as you lean against him.

Kento laughs, “Me too, sweetheart.”

And for a moment, the three of you cuddle on the bed, enjoying the sensations of being so close to one another. Nothing will ever tear your little family apart…

#bacon.writes #Nanami x you #Nanami x reader #Nanami x y/n #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #Kento x you #Kento x reader #Kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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lyney-s-bitch · 10 months

Note

Surprise me. ❤️ please and thank you

let’s go with doing a counterpart to your first ask then… enjoy~

————————————————————————

Isagi Yoichi - spicy hcs || 18+

• he loves eating you out, but when he does it while you’re laying on your back he tends to get distracted easily, both by the noises you make and by the way you move

• so his solution? why having you sit on his face, of course.

• mans canonically LOVES thighs, so what better way to put yours to use than by squishing his head in between them?

• don’t even come at him with the "What if I’m too heavy and suffocate you", he will look you dead in the eye and say "Perfect."

• so don’t you dare not put your full weight down, else he’ll MAKE you do just that

• will wrap his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, moaning into your core cause you just taste so fuckin good

• at some point, he may or may not have actually passed out for a few seconds due to the lack of oxygen, but rumor has it he still kept going-

• Isagi is a switch, so depending on both your and his mood, your lovemaking sessions can differ a lot… it’s all about who takes the initiative tbh

• he’s the type of boyfriend to give you anything you ask for and more, but if you give him sass he will return it tenfold

• you can literally see his deep blue eyes darken with lust whenever you use the two magic words on him… "Make me."

• you’re guaranteed to get his more dominant side that way

• his whole demeanor switches up in the blink of an eye, a smirk resting on his lips, his every move slow and deliberate

• he’ll keep his eyes fixed on yours, one of his hands finding its way to cup your cheek as he’s tracing your bottom lip with his thumb

• his voice is low and deep when he speaks up again: "Are you sure about that, sweetness? You know that once I get started, there’s no going back…"

• on the other hand, he will become PUTTY for you if you call him your "good boy" or "my sweet Yoichi", even if it’s in a joking way

• you can tell by the way his face drops for a moment and how the tips of his ears turn red that you’ve got him right where you want him

• he’ll get even more flustered if you tease him about it, but he won’t shy away from just pulling you into his lap and grazing his teeth along your neck, clearly signaling his impatience

• "Are you gonna keep teasing me, or are you finally gonna give us what we both need, hmm~?"

• he’s obviously still got some attitude left in him, but that’ll change quickly once you finally sink down on his already throbbing length

• he lets out a shuddering breath at the feeling of your velvety walls enveloping him, throwing his head back in bliss

• "After all this time… how can you still be so fucking tight…" he curses under his breath

• depending on how needy he is, he might need to keep you still and just ground himself for a moment to not end up finishing too quickly

• but if you really tried to push him over the edge, he wouldn’t be able to contain it, he’s wayyy too weak to the way you feel around him

• whoever doms or subs though, Isagi will always make you feel like a literal goddess, cause that’s how he genuinely sees you

• like, everything about you is just divine and you’re the only one that manages to drive him insane in every way possible, so how could he not think that??

• "So damn beautiful, taking me like that… gosh… promise you’re always gonna be mine"

#get your mansssss #im really spoiling you here huh #hehehe #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #bllk #blue lock #isagi headcanons #blue lock hcs #bllk smut #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #bllk x female reader #blue lock x y/n #bllk x reader smut #blue lock x reader smut #my writing stuff

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mixelation · 6 months

Text

wait here's a different way the end of the chunin exams in iwa could go

team 4 still does the same stuff: iwa grabs kushina, kushina yeets tori away. tori runs off to get itachi and deidara; the team then splits up to grab both kushina and ibiki. rn i'm thinking tori-deidara go for ibiki. tori wants to go to kushina but itachi is like "no, you're the ONLY one who can do the transportation jutsu for our mission" so the compromise is he goes after kushina. deidara ends up with tori because she needs extra muscle more, even though deidara would be better at FINDING kushina bc he knows iwa better. instead he just sort of points itachi in a direction.

tori by herself can do the transportation jutsu but it will be rougher when executed solo. she deems ibiki's physical condition too poor to risk it. they get him on a bird and fly out.

okay, so, my original idea was itachi finds a half-conscious kushina and gets her out of the village on foot. this is an insane feat he accomplishes with "massive genjutsu means no one notices for a hot second" no jutsu. iwa eventually realizes they've lost their very impotant hostage, which means they are screwed. they decide to blow up the problem to hide evidence (this will look BAD for them but no evidence means they can claim team 4 started it, which is less bad PR than what they actually did getting out). team 4 gets a fight, kushina recovers quickly enough itachi is like what the fuck, ma'am, and they flee into the night safe and sound.

i think i will keep this as ""canon"" bc it lets team 4 have thier moments. but here's a fun little alt au ending feat. minato:

okay, so, in the minato one shot we see kushina summon chains that aren't attached to her body. so i was thinking it'd be cute if minato had a necklace or bracelet made from one of her chains. it's also a ~kushina's health~ indicator: the chain with break/evaporate if she runs low on chakra (which would ONLY happen in a dire situation), or she can undo it herself if she needs to summon him. remember, her jinchuriki seal has a hiraishin integrated into it, so minato can go to her whenever he wants. minato spends a lot of time fiddle with his chain and sighing wistfully when she's out of the village.

then one day, the chain breaks. minato doesn't even think about it; he's by her side 0.2 seconds later. and then.... fuck it i just wrote it lol

****

Kushina was slumped over Uchiha Itachi’s shoulders. Itachi retaliated the second he felt a presence behind him. Minato dispelled all three layers of the genjutsu, knocked the short sword out of his hand, picked up his wife, and shoved Itachi away.

His goal was to get Itachi away from him for long enough to orient himself. If he’d bothered to watch him, he’d get to watch Itachi’s reaction to being pushed around like a child: confusion mixed with a little bit of terror.

Sagged over in his arms, Kushina’s eyes were unfocused and her face was clammy with a cold sweat. He’d never seen her like this before.

“M’nato?” she slurred, and Minato felt a wave of relief at the sound of her voice. “Feel like shit.”

If she was talking, she was going to be okay. Minato shifted her, pulling her into a princess carry. Kushina’s head rolled against his chest, and Minato felt a stab of worry. Kushina was a live, but what the fuck had they done to her?

“Hokage-sama?” Itachi asked, voice wary. He had not moved to retrieve his sword. He didn’t need it; all five Iwa-nin in the room were already dead. Minato must have crashed his rescue attempt.

“You have permission to approach,” Minato told him. “What happened?”

Itachi gave him the succintest of summaries: Kushina and Tori had been intercepted while attempting to retrieve Morino Ibiki. Kushina had gotten Tori out, and Tori had gone for back-up. Itachi had then found Kushina here, in an underground detention facility. Tori reported Kushina as having chakra-poisoning. It was unclear if Iwa suspected them of their own betrayal of their agreement, or if their attack had unrelated motives. Minato thought the latter: there was only one known chakra toxin that could poison someone enough to take out someone like Kushina, and it was extremely difficult to synthesize. This had been planned.

Minato felt a flash of rage. All that posturing about how he was the dangerous one, how he was the one who might unjustly destroy Iwa’s security, and this is what they did?

“Okay,” Minato said, very carefully keeping his voice level. “I’ll handle it.”

“Sir?” Itachi replied. “Handle which part?”

“Hold this,” Minato said, and handed him a kunai.

Minato teleported Kushina back to Konoha and left her with a medic. “Fuck ‘em up, dawling,” she told him, patting a random part of his face. Then he stopped briefly at home to grab weapons. Then, approximately three minutes after he’d left him, he went back to Itachi.

Itachi, for once in his life, seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Do you know how to get out of here?” Minato asked.

Itachi led him down a hallway, up some stairs, and then down another hallway, passing zoned out Iwa-nin after Iwa-nin staring at the walls or passed out on the floor in the wake of Itachi’s genjutsu. Minato paused a couple times to draw Hiraishin markers, just in case. Itachi waited for him without comment.

“Do you know which way the Tsuchikage’s office is?” Minato asked once they were on the ground floor and he could see sunlight through a window. “I’d like to talk to him.”

“I believe it’s towards the mountains,” Itachi said, “although he might be overseeing events related to the exam.”

Minato hummed.

“What would you like me to do?” Itachi asked when they reached the front doors of the building.

“Go find your team, please,” Minato told him. “Keep that kunai on you.”

Minato tossed a kunai out the door, and then he was off.

Iwa was prettier than Minato thought it would be. Red mountains towered above them, and the sky felt closer and more open than it did anywhere in Fire Country. Most of the buildings were grand old things, tall and narrow and brushing up against each other with pointed roofs. The roofs were steep; not convenient for ninja travel. The ninja here all went underground when they wanted to be quick and avoid civilians.

The narrow streets were crowded, people all herded together as they spilled out of the stadium. This didn’t particularly bother Minato; most of them were civilians who didn’t even notice him pass by, one kunai throw after the other.

The administration building, when he found it, was carved into the mountainside. This was a really impressive use of earth ninjutsu, he would admit.

There was a sign that said the building was closed to the public today, due to the chunin exams. Minato painted another hiraishin marker under it.

Lucky me, he thought as his hand moved in quick, practiced strokes. He usually tried very hard not to kill civilians.

No one expected him, despite the audacity of kidnapping his wife.

“Excuse me,” he said to the kunoichi at the front desk. “Where is the Tsuchikage’s office?”

“He’s not taking visitors today,” she started, voice sharp and annoyed. Her eyes met his. Confusion flashed across her face. Minato smiled, charming. Confusion drained into horror.

“That’s a shame,” Minato replied, and then she was dead.

The building was fully staffed. Chunin exams took a lot of extra hours from admin behind the scenes, and ninja missions never stopped. Minato picked people off, one by one, as he moved through the building. The Kage’s office was usually at the top, right? They didn’t have intel on Iwa, but that’s where everyone else’s were…

He was quick enough no one had realized what was happening and mounted a counter until he was on floor six. He wasn’t really sure if it was people trying to leave or fight back, but either way they all ended up dead. The entire hallway was sticky with blood, his sandals making that annoying squelching noise as he walked.

I guess this is why no one ever invites me to their villages, Minato thought. Hiruzen had visited both Suna and Kiri for Chunin Exams. Minato always got a polite note suggesting he send a representative. He was kind of jealous, actually. Minato liked travel and meeting new people. All they had to do was not kidnap his wife and he’d be happy to play nice and not leave hiraishin markers places.

Oonoki was seated behind his desk, a wall of Iwa ANBU in front of him. Cute. Minato dispatched them in the span of an inhale of breath.

“Hi,” Minato said, standing in front of Oonoki’s desk. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Namikaze Minato, Hokage of Konoha.”

To his credit, Oonoki did not cower. He did not bother with a useless attack. He met Minato’s eyes, gaze steely.

“Killing me would be an act of war,” Oonoki said grimly.

Minato raised his eyebrows. “Sure,” he agreed. He leaned forward, letting just a little bit of killing intent out to punctuate his words. ”And so would attacking and kidnapping my wife.”

Oonoki stayed silent. Minato reeled himself back in.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Minato said, uncapping another bottle of ink. He went to work drawing a Hiraishin marker on the Tsuchikage’s desk. “I am going to go get my shinobi. I’m going to kill whoever I want along the way. Then I will leave, and we won’t have to talk about this ever again.”

Minato leaned forward, grasping Oonoki’s chin in his hand. It was scratchy with the scraggly hairs of an old man’s thinning beard. Oonoki did nothing to resist him tilting his head back, pride keeping his gaze hard.

“And you,” Minato continued, pressing his brush to the man’s forehead to draw one last marker, “will do nothing. No declaration of war. No retaliation on Konoha or Fire Country. Got it?”

He pulled his hand back, letting Oonki go. He pocketed the brush. The wet ink of the hiraishin marker glimmered on the old man’s face, a new permanent fixture to his skin.

“Do you understand?” Minato reiterated. “Say it.”

There was a long silence, stretching on and on between them. Minato kept eye contact, smile pleasant.

“I understand,” Oonoki said.

“Excellent,” MInato replied. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

He teleported to the marker he’d given Itachi.

Team 4 was currently in Ibiki’s holding cell, having an argument. There was an incredible amount of blood everywhere, considering there was only one dead Iwa-nin in there with them. Ibiki himself was sat against the wall, emaciated with two black eyes. New scars decorated his scalp. He watched Team 4 with what was either exhaustion or intense judgment. Horrific evidence of torture aside, his expression perked up when he noticed Minato.

“No, I can’t do the jutsu solo if you want him to not get brain damage,” Tori was saying, jabbing her finger aggressively into Itachi’s chest. “Either summon the Hokage back or–”

“Hey,” Minato interrupted, and Tori basically jumped out of her skin.

“Jesus FUCK–”

“I’ll take him back,” Minato announced, and ninety seconds later, Ibiki was in his prepared hospital room and Minato was back in the holding cell.

“Um,” Tori said.

“What the fuck?” Deidara said.

“Oh wow,” Minato said, having noticed the blood splattered on one wall had been painted into words: Can you find them all? with a hiraishin marker below. “Tori, this is mean.”

Funny. But mean.

The look Tori gave him was vaguely affronted.

“What’s our exit plan?” Itachi asked. “Are we also teleporting?”

Minato spun a kunai around his finger casually. “I can take you home first,” he said. “But thought I’d walk.”

#reborn au #my writing

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