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quin-ns · 22 hours

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The blue (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: first series I’ve finished and I could not be more excited to share! please read the tags and if the subject matter is uncomfortable to you, you do not have to read. this one is a wild ride guys, I can’t wait for you to see what I have in store 🫶

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

JJ didn’t really understand how this happened, but it did. When he tried to trace it all back, there wasn’t really one big moment. Just a bunch of small individual moments that amounted to… this. This feeling. This thing that kept him up at night that he couldn’t seem to get rid of.

He’d never been in love before, so it took JJ awhile to realize that’s what he felt for you.

Or maybe it was the denial. The moral part of his brain telling him it wasn’t normal. Your mom was married to his dad, so according to everyone else’s rules that made you his step sister—even if he didn’t think about you in that context anymore.

He used to, when you both were younger, before your mom got arrested. A large part of why JJ was so happy when you came into his life was because his dad eased up on him, finding some semblance of happiness with your mom.

But she wasn’t exactly perfect. To be with his dad, JJ always wondered what was wrong. As it would turn out, she had serious issues, but what they got her for was being a tax cheat. It added up how they could’ve met after that.

It was getting to be around… what, a little over a year since that happened? JJ couldn’t really keep track of the months, and you never liked to talk about it.

As much as JJ loved his father, he knew he wasn’t a good guy, even if he wanted him to be. So it surprised him when his dad still let you stay with them, but you’d been around since you were both about thirteen, so even if his dad didn’t think of himself as responsible for you (or even JJ), he at least cared enough to not throw you to the street.

That was about the same JJ got from him, and recognizing that is what brought you closer to him.

Sure, you’d been sort of close growing up, but not really. You mostly spent time with your mom and your own friends. Then, when everything went down, you lost your mom and your friends followed not long after. He saw the puffiness in your eyes when you’d come home and go to your room for the whole night. No one to hang out with after school and nowhere to go on a Saturday night. They had ditched you, apparently deciding that mocking you was more important than being there for you. It made his stomach hurt to see you in such a state. You didn’t smile for days.

So JJ, being the good step brother that he was, stepped in. He took you under his wing and brought your smile back.

You fit in well with his friends, easily becoming a part of the group. They liked having you around, and JJ felt like he got to know you in a way he hadn’t ever before.

It was selfish, but you made being at home easier. You kept him company when he stayed up too late and made sure to wake him up in the morning so he wouldn’t be late to work whatever odd job he had at the time.

Whenever his dad hit him, which started again not long after your mom was locked up, you were there to take care of him.

You were so sweet with him, eyes full of care and touches gentle as you cleaned his cuts or iced his bruises. It made it hurt less.

After one night, when his dad hit him, leaving a cut from one of his rings on JJ’s face, you came to his aid as you frequently did. His dad stormed out, so it was just the two of you as you cleaned his face. You had him sit on the couch and stood over him, one hand holding his face while the other held a cloth to make sure the cut was clean.

As JJ stared up at you, your frustrated words about his father falling on deaf ears, one jarring thought crossed his mind.

You should kiss her.

He’d immediately stood up, snapping himself out of whatever daze he was in, and went to his room. You’d tried to talk to him, but he brushed you off and said he was tired. When he asked to be left alone, which was rare, you did.

He didn’t sleep most of the night, staring up at his ceiling wondering where that thought had even come from. He’d never had it before, but from that moment on, JJ started to become much more aware of everything you did—everything you did for him.

Of course his friends loved him and cared about him, and he did the same for them, but with you, something about it just felt different. You were by his side nearly every moment of the day. You saw things they didn’t, and you were there when they couldn’t be.

You became everything to JJ. There was no other way to put it.

That was a couple months ago, and since then, his realization had morphed into something far more.

JJ was deeply, madly in love with you, which was not something a guy should be with his step sister, but he was. He didn’t really deal with it, just shoved it down and tried to ignore it. It was hard, especially when he was around you every single day, but JJ had done his best.

JJ would catch himself staring at you more than he’d admit, but no one seemed to notice. No one would suspect what he was thinking anyway. He made excuses to touch you, like a hand on your back when moving past you to get something or draping his arm over your shoulder and leaning on you jokingly. The latter made you laugh, and he’d join you, but he’d still feel a loss when you playfully nudged him away and told him you weren’t an armrest.

Sometimes, when he didn’t care how pathetic it was, he’d let himself drink too much, just so he could lean on you when you’d help him inside. When he pulled that stunt, sometimes he’d get lucky and you’d even stay by his side to make sure he went to sleep comfortably. And of course, whenever his dad struck, fists full of misplaced rage, you were there, easing the pain.

JJ resolved to take what he could get, and eventually he’d move on.

At least, he hoped that’s how it would go. Maybe he’d get lucky and—

“Hello?” You waved a hand in front of JJ’s face. “I’m talking to you.”

JJ blinked. He looked at you, zoning back in. In an instant, he remembered what was going on. You and him, along with his three best friends, were all on the beach. The others were in the water, while you had been sunbathing on shore and JJ… well, he’d just been sitting by you, wanting to be in your proximity (and sometimes steal glances when he couldn’t help himself).

But now you were on your feet, leaning down as you dropped your hand. JJ’s eyes fell from your face to your chest, and he swallowed when he caught a glimpse down your bikini top.

His eyes flicked back to your face. Was that too obvious? He hoped not.

“Sorry, what?”

You gave him a confused look, but laughed and straightened up.

“Do you wanna get in?”

He knew you meant the water, and in the distance he saw his friends waving for the two of you to join them.

JJ shook his head, and the action felt as if it were in slow motion. Kind of like when he was high, but much less carefree.

“Um, maybe in a bit.”

If he got too distracted he’d probably drown in the ocean—if the guilt of keeping his secret from you didn’t do it first.

You shrugged, not able to read him the way you usually could.

“If you’re scared, there might be some floaties somewhere,” you teased as you turned your back, heading for the water.

JJ couldn’t formulate a comeback, too focused on the swing on your hips as you walked away from him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed again, questioning his own self what was wrong with him. He’s never experienced such a desperate feeling before. What were you doing to him?

When he opened his eyes, you were in the water, and he had no answers.

He tried to focus on the sand, the water, the sky—anything but you. He even tried to look at Kiara just to see if it would work, but his eyes always drifted back to you, the ache in his chest growing with each passing minute.

JJ didn’t think much of it when he saw Kiara suddenly haul herself up onto Pope’s shoulders, but he felt like he got kicked in the stomach when you climbed onto John B’s.

John B’s arms locked around your legs, the two of you laughing loudly as you steadied yourself. JJ could hear it from shore—you weren’t that far out. JJ knew he was focusing far more than necessary because he saw the way your hands brushed John B’s hair out of his face as he tilted his head back to look up at you.

Even from where he was, JJ could see how you smiled down at John B. It was innocent and friendly, and it made him incredibly jealous.

You and Kiara started to go at it, trying to knock the other into the water.

JJ didn’t think anyone noticed when he stood and walked down to the edge of the sand.

“You’re going down!” Kiara shouted, her hands interlocked with and pushing against yours as you both refused to budge.

You laughed loudly. It was like music.

It took one exchanged look from you and John B to formulate a plan. It was the kind of silent communication that JJ thought you reserved for him.

You let Kiara lean a lot of weight on you, and that’s where your advantage was. In an instant, you relaxed your grip and John B stepped to the side. The other girl, and Pope beneath her, wobbled. It was over in a second. The two shouted right before they crashed down into the water.

“Ha!” you exclaimed, raising your hands in the air while John B whooped and hollered in celebration.

Kiara and Pope emerged, both rolling their eyes. It was their turn to share a look, and as JJ waded into the water, he figured out their plan.

With the two of them jumping at John B, it was easy to knock him off his feet. JJ’s eyes went a little wide when you fell into the water with a crash.

“Did you see that?” Kiara yelled with a grin when she spotted JJ.

“Kinda hard to miss,” he responded, looking around the water. It had been a few seconds and you had yet to reappear.

“They’re just messing with us,” Pope commented on your and John B’s absence, but his words started to sound less sure by the end.

Another long beat of silence passed. The waves grew still.

“This isn’t funny anymore!” Kie shouted.

JJ felt a twinge of panic, awful scenarios flashing through his head. It didn’t matter how unlikely they were.

Suddenly, water erupted. John B arose with a splash, with you clinging to his back. He roared dramatically while shoving water towards Kie and Pope. They screamed as the waves hit them, trying and failing to shield themselves.

“Revenge!” you yelled in a maniacal manner, chin on John B’s shoulder.

“Truce! Truce!” Kie and Pope both yelled, spitting out saltwater.

John B paused, and JJ noticed how close his face was to yours when he turned his head.

“Should we forgive them?” John B deferred to you.

You hummed thoughtfully. “I think they learned their lesson,” you decided. Your gaze, which had been focused on John B, shifted past him. “Hey, look who made it!”

JJ realized you were talking to him. He forced a smile, smothering the jealousy he felt at seeing you and John B in the position you were in. It seemed weirdly close for you two. You and John B weren’t usually touchy-feely-piggyback-ride friends.

John B seemed to pick up on JJ’s shift in demeanor, because his smile was a little more contained as he said, “Hey, man.”

JJ figured his friend didn’t get that he was jealous, which was for the best. Everyone knew JJ was protective over you, and John B probably thought JJ was questioning his intentions as your brother. Why would it be anything else?

“Nice victory,” JJ replied, having nothing better to say. He didn’t even grit his teeth, so he counted that as a win for himself.

Tension eased as you all decided to just chat and relax in the water until the sun set.

Although, JJ kept an eye on John B, noticing how his friend kept an eye on you.

When it got dark and you all began to head back to the shore, JJ found himself at your side. Your steps fell in line with his as you looked up.

“You feeling okay?” you asked lightly. You must’ve sensed his attitude shift, even if it was subtle. “You’ve been quieter than usual.”

JJ couldn’t help the urge to smile at how well you knew him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied, not wanting to concern you. He liked when you worried about him, but this was the one time when he didn’t want you pressing for him to open up. “Are you?”

JJ reached to ruffle your damp hair. You swatted his hand away before he could do any real damage.

“Very funny,” you grumbled. Your expression shifted to a smile, then softened. There was something careful about it. “If something was up, you’d tell me, right?”

JJ swallowed, trying to avoid the way your eyes searched his. He had to look forward before he could answer.

“Yeah, of course,” he assured.

JJ didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but he remembered everyone sitting around the living room.

Wait, no. That wasn’t right.

The porch. Everyone has been sitting on the porch, drinking and laughing together. He recalled cramming himself into a chair next to you, playing it off like a joke. Everyone had laughed, and he got to be close to you, so it worked out.

He also remembered following Kiara and Pope inside, expecting you to be behind him.

Everything clicked.

You and John B had elected to stay outside, and JJ had been sitting on the couch, watching through the window, trying to make out what you were saying through the small opening where the window was cracked for the nighttime breeze.

He must’ve dozed off while waiting for you. That didn’t sound like him—he would’ve been focused on watching you, making sure you made it in. Maybe he had been worn out or you stayed up way too late, or both.

JJ blinked a few times. He was just concerned for your safety, like always. Fenced in porches with lights and his best friend keeping you company could be dangerous…

Yeah, he didn’t even buy that.

It was easier back when JJ believed his own lies and self justifications.

Sitting up, JJ peered out the window. It was the early hours of the morning, right around when it was still dark but you could just tell the sun was about to begin rising. His heart sped up when he found you missing from your chair. You weren’t in any of the other chairs in his view, either.

He stood up, feeling more awake than ever, and went right for the door. He didn’t care about waking anyone inside up.

“Jeez, man,” John B said suddenly, sounding surprised as he looked at him. JJ had just barged out onto the porch out of nowhere. “You good?”

JJ took a second to observe his friend. He half-sitting and half-laying back on the couch against the wall, which made sense because he’d been sitting there before. From inside, JJ couldn’t see him, but he didn’t even think about John B’s whereabouts until he stepped out.

Maybe he was a bad friend for that.

He didn’t feel that guilty, though, because he saw where you were; sleeping on John B with your head on his thigh. You were curled up on your side, facing away from his body, and JJ could see how steadily you were breathing.

JJ looked back at his friend, ready to lash out, but the word ‘irrational’ popped up in his mind and resisted. Just from the scene in front of him, it’s not like he had anything to be mad about.

Jealous, maybe, but not mad. But he couldn’t act on that feeling either. If he acted jealous, that would invite too many questions that JJ didn’t have a good answer for.

“Fine just…” He ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head. “You guys good?”

John B furrowed his brows a little, but chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re fine. We were just talking and she started to fall asleep and I just let her. She seemed tired and it wasn’t a big deal so...”

“What were you guys talking about?”

“I don’t know, stuff?”

JJ leaned back in the doorway. “Like what, though?”

John B tilted his head a little, shaking it ever so slightly.

“Just… life and stuff. Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” JJ replied, giving the appropriate answer. He looked down at you, noticing you hadn’t stirred. You looked comfortable, and that was very conflicting. All of this was. It made his head hurt. “Has she been asleep long?”

John B met JJ’s eyes when he looked back up from you.

“You sure you’re okay?” John B asked, sounding almost concerned. Or at least confused. Maybe both.

But the answer was no. No he wasn’t.

“Yeah, man,” JJ answered with a shrug. “She probably won’t wake up if you wanna get up and go get some sleep.”

John B looked down at you, then at JJ.

He slowly started to move, being extra careful with your head, making sure to put a cushion beneath you before standing up straight.

John B gave a light, awkward smile to JJ as he neared him. He brushed past to go through the door, turning to face JJ.

“You coming?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna sleep out here,” JJ answered, fighting the urge to look at you. He gave a shrug instead and said, “It’s nice out and I can’t get comfortable on the couch anyway. You can have it—plus I think Kie’s in your bed, so…”

“Right…” John B agreed slowly, glancing at you on the couch again. “You know nothing happened, right?” He looked back at JJ. “We were just talking.”

JJ wasn’t expecting something so direct. “It’s cool man, I know,” he found himself replying. “We’re good.”

John B nodded, albeit slowly. He entered the dark house, and JJ shut the door behind him. As a courtesy.

He then turned, spotted the comfiest chair, and resolved to sleep in that for the night. You had stretched out on the couch and looked too peaceful to disturb, even if he did want to take John B’s place from before.

It worked out perfectly, because it gave him a clear view of you as he decided to let himself go back to sleep.

As his eyes closed, he wondered if John B would peek through the window just as he had.

If he did, he’d see the content smile on JJ’s face as he drifted off to sleep. For yet another night, JJ got you all to himself. He didn’t want it any other way. He wasn’t sure what he would do.

#stepbrother!jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #step bro!jj maybank #the blue #obx #outer banks #quin-ns writing

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mrsparrasblog · 2 days

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MAKAROV X PRICE DAUGHTER FINAL PART (PRICE ENDING)

TW: Blood, dead

previous part part one

As Price watched your wedding from afar, a thousand thoughts swept through him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of regret for the moments he had missed in your life, the milestones he hadn't been there to witness. But amidst the regret, there was love and pride in seeing you so radiant, even if the circumstances were far from ideal. You grew up to be a beautiful woman like he always imagined; you were graceful, confident, and full of joy. If this wedding were just something different, something he could be happy about, god, he would rather have married you off to some bloke than a fucking terrorist.

His mind raced with thoughts of how he could have intervened earlier and how he could have protected you from falling into the hands of a man like Vladimir Makarov. Yet he knew deep down that you were strong, resilient, and had made your own choices, even if they weren't the ones he would have wanted for you. Thoughts flowed through his brain: did you choose him freely? Did you know what Makarov was? Why did you vanish from the world? You probably had Stockholm syndrome; there wouldn’t be a chance in hell that his sweet, smart girl fell in love willingly with a man like Makarov.

As he wiped away his tears, Price made a silent vow to himself. He may not have been your protector in the past, but he would be damned if he didn't become your guardian now.

He waited what felt like ages for him to finally see you for a second alone. You were headed to the bathroom, and the wide wedding dress mopped the floor. Makarov was speaking to some politicians, and that was his only chance. He gave Ghost the agreed signal: don’t hurt Civis; kill that bastard and save you.

He heard you vomiting, so he walked inside the bathroom. He already knew what it meant, but he didn’t want to think or even believe this, there was a different time to sort out that problem.

You turned around, being sure that Vlad had intruded on your space. He was always so overprotective, but you knew he would be even worse after this news, but did you really mind?

You gasped as you saw him—your father. He looked older than you remembered; he had more wrinkles, worried eyes, and a completely unshaven beard. "Dad?“

"Oh God, Sweetie, “ he said, almost running the few steps over to you. He embraced you in a tight hug, trying his best to hide his tears. Everyone believed you were dead; they wanted him to mourn you, hold a wake to you, and finally declare you dead but he knew you were alive, and now you stood there in front of him, with a confused look in your beautiful eyes—but alive.

"I didn't think you would make it, Dad,“ you said bluntly while mustering him. It had been so long since you last saw him.

"Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you?“ He started to grab your arms, pulling the sleeves up, looking for any bruises or any indication that Makarov had hurt you. God, he personally wanted to gut that bastard out.

"No Dad, Im fine; Vlad would never hurt me.“

"He is a terrorist, Sweetie; he kills for money.“

"I know, but he has his reasons, Dad. He never would hurt me or do something bad without a reason.“

He looked towards you with a saddened expression, taking your delicate hands in his calloused ones. "Look, I get it. You had a rough time, didn’t you? Your head tricked you into thinking that you love him and that he is this prince from a fairytale, but he isn't; none of this is real.“

You were fuming at this accusation. How had he the audacity on your wedding day?"I'm not stupid, Dad.“

"You're not stupid; you’re brave.“

"He doesn’t hurt me; he protects me and takes care of me, Dad.“

"And what if he changes his mind? If you’ll be the victim of his actions? Please see reason.“

"At least he doesn’t leave me all the time." Spite and pure spite made you say these words: You always loved your dad more than anything else in your life, but he left you; he loved Tina more; he never cared about you; at least that's what you thought.

"Im sorry- I really am for being such a shitty Dad to you, but I love you more than anything, and I know you deserve a better old man, but you also deserve better than marrying a man who isn’t capable of loving. Come home with me; I divorced your stepmom; I will retire okay; no more deployment; no more war; just you and me and Tina if she wants to stay with us,“ he pleaded. He wanted you so bad to agree.

"Dad, I can't; I'm pregnant." You told him the news, and you were sure he would give up by that, but his expression didn’t change, almost as if he already knew.

"Sweetie, I'll help you, okay? And you can still see Vlad just come home, even if it's just for a bit, okay?“ He didn’t know how to help you anymore; besides lying to you, he knew it would stain your relationship even more, but right now, everything that counted was to have you leave this place.“

"You really would.“

"Of course.“

"Thank you, Dad,“ you mumbled and stood up on your way to leave the bathroom to tell Vlad that your Dad kinda accepts him for the baby's sake.

"Wait“

"Hm?“

"Let your old man hug you,“ with that, he pulled you into one of his famous bear hugs, softly stroking your beautiful hair.

When you left the bathroom, you saw Vlad, the supposed love of your life, your husband limp on the ground. The guards lay dead in different corners, and the wedding party was gone. You were only gone for 20 minutes, and everything was ruined.

You ran over to Vlad, hugging his limp body, trying to search for a pulse or anything but gone. You pressed his body closer to yours, and your eyes slowly started to build tears. The sobs only grew louder as you mumbled I love you all over and over again in Russian to him. You weren’t even sure if you were able to tell him that you loved him, and now he is gone. „You lied to me, Dad,“ was all you said to the military man in front of you, who looked at you like you were a zoo animal. Your white dress had already turned the prettiest shade of maroon.

Your Dad walked towards you, trying to pick you up, but you didn’t want to leave Vlad's body.

"He is dead, Sweetie.“ he crunched next to you.

"You lied to me.“

"I know,“ he picked you up, ignoring your protest, but he also held you the whole night while you cried in his arms, not for one second judging you that you fell in love with Vlad, never dismissing your grief; he was for once in your life there for you.

————————————

1 year later

You moved in with your Dad again, he indeed retired from the military. His friend and aunt Kate helped at first, but now you managed, even got your old job back that you loved so much. Your Dad sent you to therapy, and after a while, you got it—this wasn’t love, this was fear—and you're free now. This made you resent the baby inside your belly first, but when little James was born, everything was different, and you didn’t connect him with Vlad.

You were afraid your Dad wouldn’t accept little James, but he did. He carried him proudly around, showing it off to his old squad, especially the new Captain of the squad, Captain MacTavish, or anything like that. Your Dad always carried a pacifier in his bag, always a picture of James, Tina, and you in his wallet. He was finally at peace, and so were you.

The End

So this is Price ending , its the first fanfic Drabble whatever I finished, and through the whole process I thought what if my reader don't like the ending, what if its lame or anything but then I thought you don't need always Drama for a good fic or an different love interest ending, sometimes the ending is just good because she finally has what she always craved a family bond.

Tag list: @multifand0midi07 , @whos-fran , @cassiecasluciluce , @the-faceless-bride , @paintlavillered

#cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #tf 141 #captain john price #john price #makarov x you #makarov x reader #call of duty makarov #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #john price cod #captain price #price #141 #cod fic #captain johnathan price

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suashii · 6 hours

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— 𝒶 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 3k wc. ﾉ smut ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ oral (f!receiving) ﾉ face sitting :3 ﾉ clothed sex ﾉ subby yuta ﾉ reader is a little mean at moments ﾉ jealousy

you can’t say that you normally time how long it takes yuta to answer his door but you can say that it never takes this long. you add the oddity to your growing mental list titled: “ways yuta has changed since having sex for the first time.” it’s not one you ever saw yourself making but life has a way of throwing curveballs at people and this seems to be the one pitched to you.

maybe yuta feels a bit different these days, but he’s still yuta. you’re sure you’ll get used to this new version of him soon enough.

a few more long seconds pass before you hear footsteps on the other side of the door and the barrier swings open, revealing yuta in all his glory.

“so you are home,” you comment with a smile upon finally being met with the sight of him. you don’t see him as often these days and the fact makes you sadder than you’d like to admit. so, you soak him in silently—the perpetual dark crescents beneath his eyes, the dark hair that hangs over the left side of his forehead, the way his hand almost unconsciously always finds its way to rest on his neck.

“sorry, sorry,” he apologizes with that familiar, sheepish grin of his. at least some things never change. “come in.”

the way he ushers you in and leads you back to his bedroom leads you to believe that you unintentionally interrupted him. he’s thumbing through the shirts in his closet when you come to stand by his bed and ask, “did i catch you in the middle of something?”

“oh, i’m heading out later so i was just getting ready.” you stop yourself from getting comfortable on his mattress at his response, although, when he turns around with a button up in hand, he uses his other to wave the misunderstanding away. “you can hang out though.”

“where are you going?” you ask him, plopping down on his bed. the scent lingering on his pillowcase and sheets is fresh like he just washed the bedding. however, you can still pick out a hint of the fragrance he wears regularly—warm and just a little woody.

“out for drinks,” he tells you. he’s in the process of trading out the t-shirt he’s been lounging in for the one he just picked out when your silence finally registers. a look over his shoulder at you is enough to tell him that the answer doesn’t satisfy you. the expression you’re wearing is telling—like you know there’s more that he chose not to say. it doesn’t seem like you’re backing down, either. with your silent prompting, he adds, “with a girl.”

“another date?” you have to stop yourself from frowning. “didn’t you go out with some other chick over the weekend?”

this is exactly why you haven’t seen him lately—he’s so busy meeting women and taking them home to fuck that he barely has time to spare for you. you’ve always thought that if he’s happy, you will be, too, but you have to admit that that isn’t the case. it’s worrying—how quickly he went from such a timid guy with no sexual experience to one who’s getting laid every three days.

you aren’t sure if this is coming from a place of concern for the girls crossing paths with him or if the whole fuckboy persona is beginning to become offputting to you, but you find yourself asking, “and they all know this is casual? that you’re seeing other girls two days after you hook up with them?”

“it sounds bad when you put it like that…” he starts, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. he’s only gotten around to fastening the bottom half of them, leaving the unblemished skin of his chest on display. “but yeah, we’re all on the same page.”

it’s still hard to believe that the shy little yuta you’ve come to know has turned over a promiscuous new leaf. it would be one thing if he simply lost his virginity and settled down with one partner but the extent of his sexual activities has truly surprised you. a question comes to mind—one that you normally wouldn’t ask your other friends but an important one considering yuta only just started sleeping around. “you’re getting tested, right?”

the question doesn’t phase him the way you think it will. you expect his eyes to widen and a furious red to overtake his cheeks and the tips of his ears but neither happens. he simply nods. “yes, of course.”

“and you’re wearing condoms?” you follow up.

“mm-mm.” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into place. “who knows how many women i’ve gotten pregnant by now.”

you can’t hide the disbelief that paints your features—the way your mouth hangs open and your unblinking gaze glued on the man before you. the shock of his words makes it difficult to find your voice and you’re sure it comes out higher than usual when you finally do. “yuta, you cannot—“

“i’m joking!” he exclaims with a wide smile. it shrinks into something smaller when he sees how serious you are. “yes, i am wearing condoms. jeez, what’s with the third degree?”

“it’s nothing, just wanna make sure you’re being safe.” you had planned on sticking around until it was time for him to leave but the thought of staying here while he’s getting ready to see—to fuck—someone else isn’t a pleasant one. you swing your legs over the side of his bed and stand up, making your way to the door. “i’m leaving. have fun fucking your flavor of the day.”

“wait, wait, wait.” yuta reaches out to grab your arm. his calloused grip is warm and firm, though, you’re sure you could pull away if you wanted to—he’s made sure of that much. despite that, you don’t. “you aren’t jealous, are you?”

“wow,” you scoff and turn to face him. there’s a sparkling glint in his eyes, one that has no place being there. “you have seriously let this inflate your ego.”

your comment doesn’t offend him, doesn’t hurt him the way you secretly wished it would. instead, his thumb glides against your wrist, runs over your pulse as he leans down closer to you. his voice comes out just above a whisper. “you aren’t curious? not even a little?”

“not everyone wants you, yuta.” you finally pull your hand back. “someone should really put you in your place.”

your words put a smile on his face. “are you volunteering?”

you have no idea what’s gotten into him, why he’s poking you like a bear and looking for a reaction, but his incessant goading has done its job. reflexively, almost without a thought, your hands come up to shove the broad chest before you. yuta stumbles back and his legs hit the mattress, causing him to fall back against it.

for the first time since you walked in, shock washes over yuta’s face the moment you begin to approach him. you find yourself crawling on the bed and straddling him, your hands pressing into the mattress on either side of his head. his lips are parted now and they only seal when he swallows the lump lodged in his throat.

it’s almost enough to make you laugh—how quickly his tune changed from confident to a bundle of nerves. you guess this has yet to happen to him, not being the one who’s calling the shots, that is. maybe you aren’t quite laughing, but it does make a grin stretch across your lips.

“what happened, yuta?” you ask him, sitting back on your calves. you lift your hand and bring it to his face, letting your finger drag along the curve of his jaw. it may just be your imagination, but you swear you can feel him shiver at your touch. “you were practically begging for this just a second ago. but if you changed your mind, i’ll get up and go.”

“no.” he shakes his head, the hair against his comforter growing frizzy with the careless movement. his hands come up to rest on your hips. “please stay.”

“ah-ah.” you knock his hands away and panic flashes over the man’s face. “no touching. you have to earn that.”

he swallows thickly and gazes up at you with curiosity swimming in his eyes. “h-how?”

“be good for me,” you tell him, the grin apparent in your voice. you brush the stray strands of hair away from his face before leaning down just like yuta had to you only moments earlier. this time, you’re sure that he shivers when your whispered voice tickles him as you ask, “tell me what you want me to do.”

your fingernails graze over his exposed skin—down his neck, over his shoulders, along his collarbone, anywhere you reach. it’s meant to be no more than a way to keep you busy while you wait for a reply from yuta, but he seems to enjoy the touch and the way goosebumps raise following the drag of your nails. although his quiet moans are easy on the ears, it’s a bit boring for your taste. your hand slows on its path in search of an answer. “hmm?”

you’re almost convinced that his voice is stuck in his throat when his request finally fills the air. “k-kiss me, please.”

you waste no time fulfilling his wish, brushing your lips over the same spots your fingers had just been, stopping every now and then to press them down in soft kisses. they grow deeper as you traverse against his smooth skin, love bites marking the once spotless canvas. by the time you make your way up to his lips, your kiss is hungry, almost desperate on your end and his—like the both of you have been silently waiting for this time to come.

as much as you enjoy yuta’s pillowy lips against yours and the way he melts for you when your tongue slips past them, you have a desire for more. you keep that bit to yourself so as not to feed yuta’s existing albeit dormant cockiness, though, you are willing to nudge him in the right direction.

you pull back from the kiss, still close enough that yuta can feel your breath when you speak. “don’t tell me all you want is for me to kiss you. there must be something else…”

there are a lot of things that come to mind, a lot of things yuta has dreamt of doing with you, but one rises above the rest. he can only hope that you’re willing to indulge him. “would you…” his voice trails off as he turns his head to the side, avoiding your gaze.

“go ahead,” you start, grabbing his chin and turning his head so that he’s looking at you, “ask me.”

he’s never felt this hesitant before but none of the women he’s slept with have been you. they’ve never made him ask for what he wants, patiently waited until he verbalized his desires. and he hasn’t wanted that, no, not from them. as foreign as the task is, he’ll do it if that means finally getting a taste of you.

despite the warmth spreading over his cheeks, yuta forces himself to hold your eye. “can you—can you please sit on my face?”

hearing the words pass his lips makes your heart jump in your chest. the goal had been to get him to admit what he craved the most but part of you believed that yuta was still holding onto his old ways, too bashful and shy to come clean about his needs. perhaps you’re holding onto a version of him that he’s left behind for good, though, you want to see for yourself. “you really want me to?”

“god, yes, please.” his fingers dig into the comforter beneath him in an attempt to keep from touching you like you told him even though he’s itching to. he’ll be patient, be good, for you. “i want to taste you so bad.”

shy little yuta really is gone.

but you suppose it isn’t all that bad.

you crawl forward over him to situate yourself. his breath is warm against your bare thighs and it makes your skin prickle. you hike the skirt you’re wearing up your legs so the fabric doesn’t obstruct your view of his face—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see the show.

“you aren’t going to take off your panties?” yuta asks. he’s only inches away now and he’s sure if he tilted his head up just a little bit, he’d be able to stick his tongue out and reach you.

you shake your head with a smile. “i’ll tell you when you can move them. you can lick me through them for now.”

there’s a complaint ready on the tip of his tongue about how he wants to taste and feel you—only you, but he bites it back, figuring that you’ll revoke your generosity entirely if he seems ungrateful. patience, he reminds himself. if he’s patient, he’ll have all of you soon enough.

he wets his lips before diving in, tongue sloppily licking at the layer of cotton keeping him from you. despite the barrier, he can make out your landmarks—the lips he’s wishing his tongue could slip between and your clit that he desperately wants to suck on. even though it isn’t quite what he was expecting, he eats you out through your panties like a man starved.

the fabric is soaked through now and if it weren’t for the hint of you on his tongue, yuta would wonder whether it was his spit or your arousal leaving a darkened spot on your panties. the thought that he got you wound up enough to soak through your underwear oddly fills him with a sense of pride—feeds the ego you claimed he had earlier. he had brushed it off then but it’s hard to ignore now considering that you’re the woman he’s wanted to do this with for the longest.

yuta is a lot more talented with his tongue than you anticipated he would be. you can’t remember the last time someone drew such satisfied noises from you—sharp gasps that you suck in whenever he happens to brush against your clit and musical moans that fill the room when he finds that magical rhythm. you’re beyond pleased with his performance, but an unwelcome thought nags at the back of your mind as the man eats you out; just how many women did it take him tongue-fucking for it to feel this good? you know you shouldn’t say it, but you voice your thoughts anyway. the question comes out breathy, “did you learn to use your tongue like this on all those other girls?”

“they–” he starts, licking you once more before continuing, “they were all practice for you.”

the ache between your thighs grows all the stronger with his confession. you don’t doubt the sincerity of his words—if there’s one thing that you know yuta will never abandon, it’s his honesty. you can admit to yourself that you were jealous earlier, jealous of all the women yuta decided to sleep with instead of you. the envy has all but dissipated now that you know you’ve always been the object of his affection.

“push them to the side,” you tell him hurriedly. yuta doesn’t waste a second following your command, hooking a finger on your panties to drag them to the side. your glistening wetness is hypnotizing and if he wasn’t already salivating this sight would surely be enough to have him drooling. he thinks he could stare at your pretty pussy all day but what he really wants is for you to come on his tongue.

before you know it, he’s lapping at you like your arousal is the very water that he needs to survive. there’s saliva running down his chin as he savors the taste of you. the vibration of his moans against you serves as a means to work you up even more, moans and whimpers of your own bubbling up from your chest.

it’s nearly impossible for you not to grind down on him, to ride his face like there’s no tomorrow. yuta doesn’t mind being trapped between your thighs, only being able to breathe in your heavenly scent and taste your honey-like essence. his tongue glides between your folds, teasing your entrance with each up on down.

“ride my tongue,” yuta’s muffled voice sounds from below you. “use me to come.”

and you do, rocking your hips against his face in rhythm with the salacious movement of his tongue. each flick of the muscle is a drop in your cup that’s filled to the brim, threatening to spill over and flood at any moment. all it takes are a few swirls of his tongue around your sensitive pearl for a wave of pleasure to wash over you. your thighs tremble with your orgasm and your back arches as the aftershocks ripple through you all while yuta continues to languidly stroke your cunt.

he hums against you as you come down from your high, leaving a kiss on your clit before telling you, “you taste so good.”

the compliment makes your heart flutter. “you think so?”

he nods, or at least tries to from his place between your legs. “the best i’ve ever had.”

“well then i guess it’s only fair for me to return the favor,” you suggest, letting your head loll to the side. you can practically see the gears turning in yuta’s head but he doesn’t speak up to question you, instead, waiting for your clarification. “what do you say; want me to suck you off?”

thanks for reading! reblogs + comments are greatly appreciated :))

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuta x you #jjk x you #yuta smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuta drabble #jjk drabbles #𐙚 after hours

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xmissrogersx · 2 days

Text

“Because it’s pink” | Joel Miller

tags: Post-Outbreak. Fluff. Domesticy.

a note from me: yes, again i inspire myself in gilmore girls. Every time i see Lorelai and Luke is like “i need to write this like is in Jackson right now”

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

pris masterlist

-¡Paris! —I woke up with a start and turned my head in shock to see Ellie at the door.

-Hi, hey...

-What are you doing?

-Having a heart attack —I leaned back on my pillow.

-I'm going to be late for the presentation, ¡it's 7:15!

-No, it's 5:45...

-¡Paris, it's 7:15!

-No, Ellie for God's sake, I set the alarm clock to go off... —she took my watch from the bedside table showing me the time.-It's 7:15, I don't understand how it didn't ring, I swear I set it....

-7:16 —she said behind me.

-I had to take some sheets to Maria, I was going to get my clothes ready to go to your presentation and now I have to iron them and...

-7:17...

-You know what, time lady, why don't you go make some coffee and buy some time? —she came down the stairs, while I was trying to find my boots and fix my hair a little.

-Notes, decorating for the stage, looking for music...

-¡7:18! —she shouted from the dining room.

-¡Oh for the love of God! —I finished getting dressed.-It’s the last time i accept something just because it's pink.

Ellie was in the kitchen with what to carry for the recital under her arms. I grabbed my cup of coffee and drank some. I was going to pour it into my little thermos, but it was nowhere to be found.

-Shit, Joel's taking it to work —I remembered, smacking my forehead.-Never mind, I'll ask Maria. Okay, ready? —we ran to the door.

───────────────────────

-It’s done.

Joel along with other Jackson men were finishing building the library.

-Big brother —Tommy exclaimed when he saw him.-I didn't remember you being such an early riser.

-It has to be finished, doesn't it?

-Sure, you must have a very important reason for wanting to finish quickly —laughed the dark-haired man as he saw Joel's familiar scowl.-Really, it's good to see you happy again.

-She loves to read, it's the least I can do.

-Really? From what you showed me you have in your pocket, that's not all you want to do —he smiled, to which the elder Miller sighed.

-What if she really doesn't want to? What if she ends up realizing she missed an opportunity to be with someone her own age?

-Is this the same woman we're talking about? She went up against a bunch of crazies to get you penicillin and save your life. She crossed the country from one end to the other dealing with your sour ass, and yet she looks at you with an adoration I've never seen before.

Joel smiled softly as he remembered how he left this morning and seeing her sleeping peacefully with one of his shirts covering her breasts and torso. He had to restrain himself from waking her up and ripping it off himself.

-What the...?

His brother snapped him out of his trance as he saw the two people who occupied his entire world speeding across the street.

-¡Paris, the violet leaves! —Ellie exclaimed as she watched them slip.

-Shit! —said the blonde to duck, trying to keep the other things she was carrying from slipping.

-She's a little nervous, isn't she?

-Lately a little bit, in the last few days. The other night we were watching a movie and she was a little dizzy, and she said it must have been dinner. I can't stand to see her like that.

-Dizzy? You mean with dizziness and vomiting?

-A little, maybe, why?

Tommy was still shocked that his idiot brother didn't realize what was happening.

-What?

-You need to talk to her, now. Go, I'm still here —he practically pushed him out of there.

───────────────────────

-We're here! I'm really sorry I'm late... —I said, putting my things on the tables.-My alarm didn't go off.

-Everything is under control, since I know you are a perfectionist beforehand and I don't want you to stress yourself, especially at this moment —I stopped in my tracks because of the last thing she said.

-Why did you say that?

Maria turned to me and took my hand.

-Paris, I realized it two weeks ago, but I wanted you to confirm it for me.

I looked at her with tears in my eyes still unable to articulate a single word.

-So, how long exactly?

-I couldn't tell you an exact date...

-Of course, it's true, there's no way you could be in the same room for 5 minutes without jumping on each other —I covered my mouth to contain my astonishment and lightly hit her arm.

-¡Maria!

-Please, girl, next time for the love of the children here, close the blessed bedroom windows.

Our laughter flooded the place, plus my face was about to explode in the full range of red colors. I was thankful Ellie wasn't near us and had heard.

-Darlin'.

-Hi, cowboy —he put his hand on my waist to bring our lips together. Shit, and it had only been 3 hours since we'd seen each other and I was already missing being in his arms.

-Are you okay, don't you feel sick? —he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

-Why do you ask? —I saw how he looked at me with fearful eyes. I took his face and looked into his beautiful brown eyes.-Babe, I'm fine, what's wrong?

-The last few days you've been nauseous, and I know it's not your stomach because we both know you and Ellie have it made of iron, baby.

I sighed, pulling the air out of my lungs, releasing some of the pressure I was feeling, as if I needed to finally say the sentence stuck in my chest.

-I'm pregnant.

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nadvs · 2 days

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okay i’m on my period and ive been listening to fourth of july by sufjan stevens on REPEATTT😭 it’s inspired a fic idea that i think u would absolutely nail !!!!

sad ofc but rafe’s ex (moved out of the obx) gets news that he’s passed away. it’s centred around her going home, going thru the motions of how jarring it is that someone as big and powerful and stoic as rafe is just….gone. not there anymore. the lyrics of the song are great inspo ofc, but yeah just a huge ball of heartache and emotional despair!

if u wanted to lighten things up a pt2 could be like rafe faked his death vibes, angst and reunion and love and ahhhh!

၊၊||၊၊||၊၊ fourth of july / sufjan stevens

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warning death, drug abuse

When you saw the post on social media, you thought it was a sick joke.

But then you read the comments, full of canned condolences and useless prayers, and your refusal to accept the news crumbled with every typed word until you couldn’t possibly deny it any longer.

Someone commented asking how. Someone else replied overdose.

Sorrow and loss and shock and nausea swirled through you. You paced around your bedroom, chest heaving, glancing at the door as if someone was coming to pull you out of the nightmare.

Eventually, you found the strength to text Sarah. You still had her number even though you broke things off with Rafe three months ago.

She gave you the details for the funeral that Saturday.

It’s a hot, sunny afternoon when you make it to Kildare Island. It’s wrong that the world is still spinning, boasting beautiful weather on a gruesome day.

You think bitterly about how people are surely enjoying the sun today, all while the man you still love is being buried.

When Sarah sees you at the church, she gives you a mournful, forced smile. You hug her, your eyes swollen and red and aching, your throat burning as you tell her I’m sorry and are you okay?

You’re not sure if Rafe told her about why you broke up.

— and i’m sorry i left, but it was for the best though it never felt right

He hated that you wanted to move to another state for a job opportunity. He didn’t understand why you didn’t want to stay, why he couldn’t just take care of you.

You told him this was for the best and he’d find a girl who’d make him happy. He told you that was bullshit.

You doubt Sarah knows. He never spoke much to his sister unless he was fighting with her, so she likely has no idea why you ended an otherwise happy relationship.

There’s a large photo of him sitting on an easel at the front. You’re surprised they found a picture of him smiling.

It’s grainy and clearly zoomed in, likely from a group photo. He always had a great smile. He hardly showed it.

The lights hit the photographed blue of his eyes dully. Nothing like how he looked when he was alive. Even beneath the anger and bitterness Rafe carried around, he had a brightness in his eyes reserved solely for you.

You watched it fade the day you left him.

— make the most of your life, while it is rife, while it is light

When you see the coffin resting above the plot in the cemetery, you think you might be sick.

You knew Rafe liked coke. You feel naive now that you didn’t realize it was a problem. He just did it at parties when you were dating. At least, you thought he did.

Maybe you could have prevented this.

You remember the way his arm was wrapped around your waist at one of the last beach house parties you attended together. It was when you were still considering the job offer, knowing deep down you were going to take it.

He smelled like cologne and sweat and Rafe, his cheek against yours as he spoke over the loud music.

“You can’t move,” he said, chuckling and high out of his mind. “Look how much fun we’re having, baby.”

“I’d have more fun if we left,” you told him. He scoffed. But then he led you out of the party, down to the beach, hugging you from behind, kissing your neck as you sat in the sand.

“How’s this?” Rafe murmured. He earned laughs from you, his lips on your neck. “Fun?”

“Yeah,” you replied sincerely.

But you still left.

You can hardly listen to the sermon, but one part reverberates through you like it’s being screamed into your ears. We don’t face this life or death without promises.

There was a time when you and Rafe lived in a promise together. But now you just live, and he doesn’t.

Sarah finds you as you’re opening your car door to leave. She tells you it would feel wrong not to show you. They went through his phone. There are messages he sent to you that remain undelivered.

You blocked him after the break-up. You thought it was the right thing to do, but deep down, it felt more wrong than anything.

Your hand trembles as you hold the phone up to your face. It’s jarring, touching something that big, strong, abrasive, loud Rafe owned and used every day, and now he’s buried yards away from you, nothing but coldness and weakness and stillness. He owns nothing now.

Sharp spikes dig into your heart when you see that he sent you a string of texts the night he died.

i can’t stop thinking about you

i love you and i can make you love me again

come back

or i’ll come to you

please try one more time with me

“Thanks,” you tell Sarah, handing back the phone, when in reality, no part of you feels grateful upon seeing words he tried to say to you but couldn’t. You would have been better off not knowing.

You leave a part of yourself in that cemetery. It died with him. Because Rafe always said you were the only one who loved him and he left this earth thinking you didn’t anymore.

#this prompt is so good #and that song is gutwrenching oof #prepare for nothing but heartache below the cut #blurb #ask #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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hypnoneghoul · 6 hours

Text

Sundown: Chapter 3

WC: 600

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together

She shifts as she slowly wakes, too, nuzzling in closer to him. “Mhm…how’d my girl sleep?” he asks, pulling her impossibly closer.

Notes: This one is just a cute little fill :3

Read chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 3 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss has been in Sundown for two months now and it has been the happiest two months of his entire life. He is a changed man.

His insides twist every time he sees Mounty smile at him, he blushes every time she calls him her boyfriend. He’s never been anyone’s anything, not like that.

Swiss is completely and utterly gone.

He yawns as he slowly comes to, waking in the early morning to sun peeking through the carelessly shut curtains and muffled noises of the town starting yet another day. Swiss takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, flowery scent surrounding him. He buries his face in the source of that scent—the soft, dark amber locks of Mounty.

She shifts as she slowly wakes, too, nuzzling in closer to him to get that little bit more comfort before they get up and leave the warm bubble that is their bed.

“G’mornin’,” she mumbles into Swiss’ shoulder and he squeezes her waist in acknowledgement.

“Mhm…how’d my girl sleep?” he asks, pulling her impossibly closer. His morning voice is rumbly and gravelly and it never fails at making Mounty shiver.

“Good,” she replies simply. “You’re comfortable.”

Swiss laughs and the barmaid’s heart throbs. He leans down to press a kiss to her forehead and his stubble scratches her lightly in the best way possible. A forehead kiss isn’t enough, though, and so Mounty tips her head back to demand a real one. Swiss is a weak man; he can’t not oblige.

They get lost in it a bit, as usual, not caring about the work they both have, the outside of their bed in general. They spend the next few minutes—or hours—simply staring at each other with smiles painted on their faces and kissing every five seconds like nothing beside them even exists.

Something beside them does exist, though, and it reminds them of that fact itself. Or rather himself, as Dewdrop comes pounding on their door. “Come on, Rain needs something from yours, Mounty!”

The pair giggles and kisses some more, but soon enough they do emerge from their room and walk down the stairs into the bar area. Dewdrop’s waiting there with a piece of paper—presumably some instructions from Rain—in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.

“Woah, Dew, you alright?” Swiss asks with a smirk.

“Yeah…why?” the other asks, a little confused. Mounty understands, though, and she smiles as she takes the paper from Dewdrop to go fetch what his partner needs.

“Water at nine in the morning? Not beer?” Swiss teases and Dewdrop scoffs, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

“According to Phantom I should hydrate myself properly in the morning before work,” the man sighs. He’s obviously not happy about that. “Rain agrees and so I’m being blackmailed into it every morning.”

He cringes as he takes another sip and Swiss bursts out laughing at his face—looking like he’s just been poisoned at the very least. Just then Mounty returns and she points at Swiss, “Careful, I should be doing the same to you.”

Swiss stops laughing.

“Uh, anyway,” he clears his throat, “Dew, would you mind taking a look at Monty’s hooves when you’ve got a minute? I think she needs a trim now that we ain't wearing them down on the road.”

“Mhm, sure. I’ll be going now,” Dewdrop nods and leaves his—still half full—glass on the counter completely by accident. Mounty shakes her head and chuckles as she walks over to Swiss. He throws an arm over her shoulder and brings her close to kiss her once again.

“Ready for the day, sweetheart?” he asks.

“As long as you stay with me.”

#hypnone writes #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #swissalps' sundown

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maddy-ferguson · 1 year

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those who pick apart every flaw in the wheeler family dynamic to construe some kind of familial abuse storyline for mike lowkey remind me of steve stans who take the multiple instances of steve freaking about his dad ‘what will my dad think/my dad’s gonna kill me’ and the harringtons’ alluded to absent hands off parenting and construct steve a familial abuse backstory. If they wanted mike to have an abuse story they would have given him one. max and the byers are abused children, max by her brother and will/jonathan by lonnie. we also see the duffers write downright flawed parents, max’s mom coping from divorce and work woes with alcohol and not being present to her daughter’s growing depression, hopper suffering from his own fear of loss and lashing out against a child that obviously was gonna act out from being cooped up for a year. if the wheelers were supposed to be anything other than emotionally stunted, conservative parents that sometimes try and sometimes fall short they would be that instead. like max’s mom, like hopper, they contain parenting flaws. you’d think karen and ted were monsters for not always being the perfect support system for a child they cannot understand what’s going on with, supernaturally or otherwise, by the popular opinion of speaking of them here is

there's one key difference between people who do that with mike's family and people who do that with steve's: we're actually supposed to care about mike's family and his relationship with them. the wheelers are one of two families we meet in season one. we meet them first. mike is elliott in E.T and steve is...elliot's older sister's reformed boyfriend (elliott doesn't have an older sister). we're not supposed to care about his family. do the details we get matter? sure, it...explains why steve works at scoops ahoy i guess. you could find ways in which it informs his relationship with nancy i'm sure but it's not that important in the grand scheme of things because steve himself isn't.

what's annoying about people stretching what we see of mike's family and pretending that it's what's happening though is, well, the fact that they pretend it's what's happening and that they'll act like it's in the show and say you have no media literacy if you disagree. i think it's a thing in this fandom especially because people are sooo into Analysis that they forget that not everything has to be canon for you to enjoy it. steve is his stans' special little guy, of course they're gonna take the three things we hear about his family and make it big plot points in the fics they write, you're allowed to do that also. if you want to write a fic where ted is this lonnie type figure then by all means do it because he will never be in the show, just like steve's relationship with his parents will never be explored. that's something steve stans are well aware of, hence the fics and the frustration at the fact that despite his massive screentime steve's feelings don't seem to matter that much and that he doesn't get to process any of his trauma on screen. mike has family dynamics that are important enough to make it into the episodes. mike is given emotional depth. mike is a character that gets to be traumatized on screen. if you want to add to his trauma by making his parents worse than they are, that's what ao3 is for. if they wanted mike's parents to be abusive beyond redemption, they would've made them abusive beyond redemption.

#answering this ask because it turned one month old today <3 #guys why am i such a diplomat #(i'm actually not)#then again it also depends on what qualifies as abuse to you like if you think that their behavior's abusive you're obviously allowed to #but yeah. they're not writing them as abusive beyond redemption that's for sure #steve's feelings matter i guess but yk when he gets hurt it's also always like whoops there he goes again! not him getting tortured haha #and he says he got over nancy but then he's in love with her again like i can see that happening for sure but a lot of steve fans saw it as #them not caring about steve which i mean. fair. steve while being their big marketable character isn't their priority #there's a fascinating dissonance no one's happy here steve is always there but he also doesn't matter that much and steve stans will never #get the joy of seeing him break down because he's just a fun character but characters get sidelined because of how important he's gotten #to me steve stans are the ones who lost the most in season 4 like idk i would be sooo annoyed at the writers for the way they wrote him #like sure will has never been happy a day in his life but at least his trauma is important and when he's sad you're sad with steve it's #like oh. they decided that he loves nancy again. okay i guess? like idk #ask

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tojancy · 15 days

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nanami’s side of the bed wouldn’t even be called nanami’s anymore. you sleep there nearly every day, blaming it on how the pillows smell of him.

nanami’s clothes aren’t his anymore, you're sleeping in his shorts and t-shirt tonight. you wore his shirt yesterday, and took his ties for some clothes experiments last week.

nanami’s sacred pens are no longer his own, he finds them on the table after you tried to scribble up something and forgot to put them back.

nanami’s mugs are now shared, always in the dishwasher even when he doesn’t recall using them at all.

nanami’s thoughts don’t belong just to him anymore. you’d bug him about it all day if he doesn’t share what he’s thinking — so he, with an exasperated sigh, tells you what’s on his mind.

nanami’s salary doesn’t go straight to his savings account like it used to, instead taking a portion of it to spend on you. ‘you’ means gifts, flowers, dates, trips, trinkets, and so on.

nanami’s weekends aren’t as quiet as they once were; now they’re chaotic, full of so much of you.

nanami’s fridge is full nowadays. candy, leftovers, ice cream, cheese, cake, bread, and the list goes on. so many things that don’t go along with his diet fill the once-empty shelves.

nanami doesn’t spend as much time in his study as before you moved in. now old books are left to collect dust, long forgotten in a room that’s never lit. even when he decides to pick one up and read it, it’s the minute that he sees your face the book is tossed away.

nanami’s happiness still comes from days off, but now it’s because those days are spent with you. days when he slept long and ignores the world are long gone, now he gets to sit and focus on you, watching as everything else becomes nothing but background noise.

nanami has always been sure he’s not looking for marriage, at least not right now. but he swears that ring looks so perfect for you. there’s no way he’d miss it.

nanami stands in front of the bathroom mirror 5 minutes late every day because you’re still figuring out how to fix his tie the right way without any help. he can’t seem to rush you, though — what’s being precisely on time have on your little giggles as you sit on the sink and struggle to finish a task he could have done in under a minute?

nanami has been spending so much time eating as of late, more time than he can afford. while he used to finish a meal in approximately fifteen minutes, now dinners could stretch to two hours. he couldn’t get off the table early when you sit across from him, talking and joking and doing anything that’s not eating. he simply can’t possibly not indulge in the little conversations, appreciating every moment he gets to spend in your presence. nanami’s life wouldn’t even be called his anymore. you’re a storm, invading his life all at once, bringing in your chaos along with you. you’ve infatuated him, you’ve assailed his senses and changed his very being. every time nanami’s eyes align with yours, he prays your presence isn’t a fleeting one. he silently hopes you don’t leave as suddenly as you came, that you plan to stay.

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aliceramblez · 3 months

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Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #sir pentious x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #husker x reader #husk x reader

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neo-nomatrix · 4 months

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The Olive Theory

Luke Castellan x Reader

word count: 641

summary: Strawberries are your favorite thing in the whole world, luckily for you Luke seems to “hate them”

a/n: based on the olive theory from himym

@repostingmyfavs

There are two things you truly love in this world: Luke and Strawberries.

You often find yourself helping the Demeter and Dionysus kids in the strawberry fields, despite your actual job being at the infirmary. Miranda often scolded you for taking strawberries for yourself during the day, you didn’t mind though. The sweet yet tart berry was worth it.

Your obsession with the fruit grew even further. You begged the dryads for extra portions during dinner, pairing them with yogurt and melted chocolate. Your least favorite part was having to sacrifice the berry to your godly father. You debated giving something else to him but everyone at camp and above knew your love for them, there was no running from it.

Luke was well aware of your passion for strawberries. Going as far as joking that you love them more than him. You both aren’t quite sure if it’s a joke or not.

You sit at a picnic table near the Hermes cabin with luke. You had just sat down with Percy and three shortcakes for each of you. Luke leans over and presses a soft kiss against your temple as you sit down. Percy notices that you can barely acknowledge it since your focus is on the cake.

Both Luke and Percy stare at you in wonder as you eye the desert, they can’t seem to figure out why you haven’t eaten it yet. Impatient, you look over and luke with a wanting gaze.

“Oh- right,” he says understandingly.

Percy is clearly confused by the seemingly telepathic communication. His eyes dart between you and Luke, your gaze once again set on your plate. Luke picks off the strawberries from his cake and places them on your plate. As soon as the first two strawberries are there you start devouring the cake like a ravenous hyena. Percy starts to wonder if you’re even chewing. Luke starts to eat some of his until he stops halfway. He puts the remaining piece of cake on your plate for you. You eat it immediately as if it was there the whole time.

“Are you gonna have that?” You ask politely, eyeing a large, red strawberry on Percy’s plate.

His eyes shift down to where your gaze is settled, “No, go ahead.”

You smile and take it with your fork, biting into it quickly. Percy’s eyes shift back to Luke, who’s been staring at you since the moment you sat down. His face held a small smile as he admired you. You smiled as you licked the whipped cream off your fork.

“I think I'm gonna get another slice!” You exclaim happily, standing up and nearly skipping to where the dryads are.

Luke watches as you leave, eyes falling on your figure.

“I never realized she liked strawberries that much,” Percy said.

“Yeah, I'm kinda surprised she hasn’t turned into one yet,” he laughs quietly.

“I assume you don’t like them that much? I mean- you gave her all of yours and half of the cake,” Percy explains.

“Strawberries? no way, they’re great. But she loves them so much, and I'd do anything to make her happy,” Luke smiles as he nibbles on the remains of one of your eaten berries.

You come back with a widest smile on your face. You hold another cake alongside a cup of strawberries. You sit down, happily eating more of the cake and strawberries.

“Isn’t it so great that Luke doesn’t like them? I get them all to myself!” You say, beaming.

“Yeah,,, perfect,” Percy says slowly, remembering the new found information.

“Mhm; I’d give my girl all the strawberries in the world if I could,” Luke mumbles.

Luke has a single mission in life, making you happy. Even if that means giving up his favorite fruit for you. Your smile is worth much more than a simple strawberry.

#pjo series #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #luke castellan x you #luke pjo x reader #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo tv show #percy jackson x reader

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roturo · 4 months

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↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ I FOUND MY BEST FRIEND LITTLE SISTER FINISHING IN HIS BATHROOM WHILE MOANING MY NAME. So... I fucked her.

tags: smut, unprotected sex, dumbification, breeding, overstimulation, a lot of cum, age-gap, gojo is SO obsessed with you, tummy bulge, sadism, breeding, dacryphilia, cunnilingus, reader gets caught masturbating, objectification if you squint, possesive gojo...

A/N: wasn't my last writing of the year lol, wrote this while watching sinjin drowing so npr, happy holidays!!

You’ve known Gojo Satoru almost for your entire life. It was one day your brother Suguru introduced the both of you just so he could enter the house and have dinner to continue playing with Satoru.

Ever since Gojo has been a daily presence in your house. He was known as “Y/N’s big brother hot best friend” well, mostly to the ones who liked Gojo, because that didn’t stop the other girls from crushing into your brother.

You told your friends you didn’t like Gojo in that way, since he was off limits for you- Not only because he was your brother's best friend but because it also ruined your hopes thanks to the age difference you had between.

Being a freshman in college wasn’t easy. Not only you had the weird seniors going for the new girls, but being known as the Geto’s Suguru’s hot little sister didn’t feel like a compliment either. At least Gojo treated you as your own person, not like Geto’s other friends.

Geto invited you over at his dorm, having some of his close friends present, which included Gojo. It turned into an usual occurrence ever since you entered college, your brother making it easier for you to adapt into this new environment.

All of you decided to take it easy tonight and just watch a movie. Nothing wrong with it, right? Well, there's nothing wrong. While watching, Gojo would try to make small talk with you, most likely because he’s just clingy and Geto is hanging with his girlfriend on the other sofa. Nothing wrong with what’s happening. During scary moments he would lean and hug you. Keeping his right hand on your left thigh, playing with the strings of your tiny small pajama shorts.

That comment is his, obviously. Keeping the blanket covering both of your bodies and his totally not wrong act. And you’re pretty sure if he just moved his hand a little higher he would feel your wetness coating your shorts.

Gojo was trying to gain your attention. It’s pretty obvious he’s been crushing you for years now, and he’s pretty sure Suguru has commented about it. Taking it as a go to continue flirting with you and adorning your pretty face with reddish colors.

But ever since he entered college, he kinda forgot about his crush and got his head (and dick) into other girls. The first time he saw you again, he couldn’t believe it. You looked so beautiful and.. different in a good way. It’s like his caged feelings escaped and flew all across the room.

And he’s sure that happened to you too, because your pretty face didn’t hide those loving reddish colors he adored.

Coming back to the present, it was kinda weird everytime he hugged you or leaned into you. You seemed uncomfortable… Your thighs caging his hand, making his blood run straight into his cock. But he didn’t think anything about it, and assumed it was normal.

While he was leaning into you, it became difficult and you decided to go to the bathroom to at least fix the problem going on between your legs and left. After a while, Gojo noticed that you were taking a long time, and he really needed to use the bathroom too to also fix his problem between his legs. He got up, commenting about going to the bathroom too. His friends clearly are not caring about it– too busy in their make out session.

He got out and decided to wait for you to get out of the bathroom. He stood in front of the bathroom door for a while until he realized the door was unlocked so he assumed that you already finished and just went somewhere else.

He opened the door and then, he saw you.

Never in his entire life did he expect to see such a pretty sight. Your pretty fucking face could make him cum alone. Your mouth making an ‘o’ form with your eyebrows scrunched up, just whimpering his name. Legs opened up trying to find balance sitting down in the toilet.

And you might have an exhibitionism kink or maybe you were just at your limit. Because once you realized Gojo was standing there watching you, it brought you to climax. Taking you an embarrassing amount of time to recover from it.

He couldn’t believe his eyes and shut the door in front of you face and went back to the living room with a raging erection, and never mentioned the incident with you from the remaining time.

As soon as he left, you went up running towards him, begging to not tell anyone about it. And Gojo Satoru, being the asshole he is, saw this as an opportunity.

“Okay.”

“Okay?! Oh my god Gojo, thank you so much- I swear I can explain it was-”

“But,”

Fuck. There has to be a ‘but’

“You have to go out with me and do it on my face.”

Silence…

“I- I’ve never done it before…”

Oh fuck. You’re going to be the cause of the death of Gojo Satoru.

He wasted no time taking you to his dorm, stealing small pecks from you which helped you with the anxiety in your tummy turn into desire for him. Feeling confident enough, once the both of you entered his dorm he closed the door and you attacked his lips with no warning. Earning a groan from him, your hole clenching at the feeling of his clear erection making its presence between the both of you.

He picked you up, a moan leaving his lips once he realized the big difference of size between your bodies, thinking how you would be capable of taking his cock. He had to prepare you enough to fit him.

Your back arched from the bed as Satoru's tongue laps up the slick of your soaking hole, his lips around your clit, sucking like his life depended on it. It's been so long since he felt like this for somebody, the feeling that he just wants to bend you over anything and just... shove his cock in your tight little pussy.

It's like, you're created for the sole purpose of pleasuring him. You just have to be, that's what he thinks as he plays with your body. Fat tears fall out of your pretty doe eyes, your hands finding their way onto his scalp and tugging at his hair.

Why can't you just take it? Look at you now, whimpering and crying, but on the inside you know you love it, being a little whore for your brother’s best friend– you sob as he continues his assault on your poor pussy.

Why do you keep screaming at him to stop? You were just screaming his name some hours again. Is it the overstimulation? But you weren’t prepared enough for his cock!

Gojo knows you better than anyone, he knows you even better than your older brother. Why do you think he’s the one taking care of you this whole time in college? Who do you think has been scaring off the guys waiting in line to have a taste of this pussy? It’s so weird you don’t know about it because everyone thinks you’re off limits right now. Is it because you’re really that naive? Maybe he loved that of you, how you’re so clueless of how crazy you make him. Being known as “Gojo’s Satoru’s hot next and official last real girl” instead of “Geto’s hot little sister”

Like- That’s why he's giving your sweet little cunt a lot of attention right now.

“Ssatoru! Please, stop! baby… ‘s too much..” All your whines fall into deaf ears as he continues without a care. Your pussy felt so stimulated as he sucked on your hole, his tongue licking and his throat groaning at the mere taste of your slick.You can barely lift your hands in exhaustion.

For hours, he didn't stop, continuously dragging orgasms out of you without fail.

“Aww, are you tired? But I finally have the girl of my dreams" You nodded, your tummy full of butterflies, making a mental note to talk about your feelings with Satoru tomorrow- your eyes droopy from all the cumming you've been doing for the past hours.

"But, princess, I'm not done yet~ I have to show you how much I desired you this whole time, how much I have waited for you to finally give and and realize." Gojo purred as unclasped the button of his pants, taking off his own clothing. “ But I guess you were just so dumb to get it all those years ago, at least you kept this cute cunt for me. We still have much time left. Fill you up and break you apart baby” You were faced by his raging cock, hard and full- he sits back down between your legs, lifting them up to his shoulders again, he then rests his hand against your clit. And after that, he slapped your pussy so hard that it made you jump and cry of his name. Never in your life did you expect your dream to become true and have your first time with him. Nor Gojo being a sadist and a have an obsession with your pretty little cunt compared to him

"I'm gonna pump your pussy with all the cum I have, girlie. You made a promise after all."

It's like Gojo doesn’t have a stamina limit in his body- able to go round after round in position after position - but at this point it’s been god knows how many times. He’s addicted to the way you feel around him, the sounds you make when he fucks into you a certain way, or just the look of your fucked-out, dazed face that has him needing more of you.

“hah- made a big mess down there, huh?” Gojo sneers brashly, heavy hips rocking into you faster at just the lewd sight of his cum from previous rounds smothering your skin. the aching twitch in his cock won’t fade, pleasure burgeoning with every press of his cock into the hilt of your pussy. “I think there’s room for some more, yeah? just one more…”

Your little play doll for him to change, shape, and form. A clear bump showing and leaving your tummy, making Gojo’s eyes go crazier and more full of desire than before. He programs you to do things he wants, and you just nod your head at his words though you don't understand them, just giving him a smile on your lips- your delicate fingers already spreading your pussylips for him, ready to take his cock inside of you. Biting your lip, rolling your eyes as he plunges into you.

You couldn’t count how many times Gojo’s said ‘just one more round’, but from the fatigue glimmering in his eyes and the raggedness lacing his breath - you can tell this is the last one. So naturally, he’ll make sure it’s the best one of the night.

“g’na fill you up like you deserve, yeah? lemme fuck this pussy full,” Gojo grunts pantingly between a grin, fingers digging into your waist taut as the heavy smacks of his hips against yours get sloppy and quick. it’s with rasped groans and his hips fully bottomed out that he finally cums for the last time, ropes of white seeping out around his shaft and spilling onto the sheets. he can’t help but bargain and promise to clean the bed if you let him do it all over again tomorrow.

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yuujispinkhair · 6 months

Text

Mine

Megumi loves you. He loves you so much that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. But past experiences taught him that everyone always ends up leaving him. He cannot let this happen. He will make sure the two of you get your happy ever after!

Halloween Masterlist 2023

This story is my contribution to @nagumoan 's Dance with the Dead Collab. Thank you so much for organizing this lovely Halloween event, Loni!!

Pairing: Megumi x Reader (female) Genre: Yandere Romance, smut Word Count: 9k Warnings: 18+, dark content, yandere Megumi, unhealthy relationship dynamics, possessiveness, murder (Megumi kills someone, but it's not Reader!!), smut, manipulation, gaslighting, baby trapping, breeding, pregnancy. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The same word keeps repeating over and over again in Megumi's mind as he looks at you lying in his lap. So beautiful. So perfect to him. You look up at him, a small smile playing around your lips, and Megumi's heart throbs.

He smiles back at you while his long fingers pet your hair. His dark blue eyes gaze deeply into yours, letting himself drown in your eyes, in your love, in your trust. You are his. His wife, his lover, his everything. You belong to him, and he belongs to you.

Mine.

Megumi likes that word. It holds a special power. Because what is love if not possessiveness?

If you truly love someone, you should give yourself to them fully. You should commit yourself to them. True love is only true love if it lasts forever. It's the only kind of love Megumi can accept. Everything else is just a lie.

Megumi doesn't think he is a good man.

He believes there is something flawed about his existence. An inadequacy. It lives in his bones, in his blood, in his soul, filling every fiber of his being.

He grew up thinking that there must be something wrong with him. Why else would his father have left him? It must have been because Megumi was lacking something. Because he was not enough.

He always thought he was undeserving of love. That he was cursed to spend his life in the shadows, rejected and lonely.

Until you came into his life and filled his darkness with your light. You showed him another world, another life. A life full of love and affection. It is safe to say he adored you right from the start.

You didn't let him scare you off with his aloof act, with his sarcasm and eye-rolling and rude comments. You saw beneath that act. You refused to let him push you away. You just smiled even brighter at him, took his hand, and pulled him into your world of laughter and warmth and love.

But the problem with stepping into the light is that you don't want to return to the dark afterward. At least, that's how it is for Megumi. You changed him in a devastating way. You gave him everything but also burdened him with the risk of losing everything.

Ever since the day you came into his life, Megumi has been working on keeping you there.

He put a huge diamond ring on your finger after only one year, staking his claim, giving you a promise, and asking for a promise from you in return.

Megumi doesn't do anything less than forever. Lifelong devotion, lifelong commitment. That's what he offers you and what he needs in return. His dark blue eyes searched for your reassurance when he knelt before you, holding your hand gently but firmly in his, offering you all of him. His life, his heart, his loyalty until the end.

He liked what he saw in your eyes. The love and warmth in them had become his everything. When you said yes and became his wife, Megumi knew he would do anything for you and for this love the two of you shared.

Megumi thinks he isn't a good man in general, but he tries his very best for you. He wants to be good for you. He wants to be the man you seem to see in him.

There is something religious about the way he adores you. There never was a God in Megumi's life. No one deserved that title after what life had thrown at him since he was little. But you, you are godly to him.

And Megumi is dedicated to worshiping you like a Goddess. He is dedicated to offering sacrifices at the foot of your altar. He is committed to protecting you, to care for you, to cherish you. To kneel before you, his pretty face pressed against your wet cunt, his strong hands caressing every inch of your skin, his soft lips kissing you, loving you, worshipping your body.

He is there to make your life easier with an endless row of little acts of service, one after the other. Driving you everywhere, preparing a hot bath for you after work, buying your favorite snacks, giving you backrubs and orgasms. Making sure to catalog all of your reactions to his touches so he learns how to fuck you the right way. The way that makes your eyes roll back and cling desperately to him, moaning how good he makes you feel.

Megumi thinks he isn't a good person, but he is a good husband. Maybe not everything about him is flawed. Maybe there is something that's worthy of love. Because that's what you tell him when you cup his face with both your soft hands and smile at him,

"Oh, Megumi, you're doing it again. I can literally see how you are overthinking. Don't worry that much, darling. Don't make everything so hard for yourself. I love you, Megumi. You're the best husband I could ever wish for."

He huffs softly, but a gentle smile lights up his face as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his tall, lean-muscled body. He rests his chin on the top of your head, loving how your breathing syncs with his as you snuggle against him.

"I love you too."

And yet, even as he says them, Megumi knows that the words alone aren't enough to convey his feelings for you. But he hopes he can show you how much he loves you.

Fear is a part of Megumi. It was put into him at a young age when the people who were supposed to love him and care for him left him. A mother who died too soon. A father who went to get cigarettes and never returned. A long row of different foster families who only endured little Megumi's grumpy nature and his outbursts of violence for so long before they dropped him. An older sister who did her best to love him and help him, only to get into an accident that made her fall into a coma, leaving an angry, lost, and scared teenage Megumi behind.

It taught Megumi early on that there is nothing in life he can rely on. It taught him that everyone would leave him eventually. It convinced him that some cruel fate was always walking in the shadows beside him, always waiting to dig its claws into Megumi and drown him in loneliness again.

Your light has chased away most of that darkness that haunts Megumi, but a part of it will always remain.

It flares alive when Megumi sees the way your eyes sparkle when your favorite idol appears on the TV screen. When he sees you mouth the lyrics to that guy's song, and you have that little smile on your face and sway your hips gently to the music. A song about love. Do you think about Megumi when you hear it? Or do you imagine a romance with the singer?

It makes Megumi shove the limited edition of the new album you brought home into the trash when you are at work the next day and act innocent when you search feverishly for it. He tells you that he saw it just yesterday evening lying on top of the books you wanted to return to the library after work today. You might have accidentally put it in the bag, and it must have slipped out while you were at the library. You know how clumsy you can be. But it's ok, don't worry about it. He loves you, and now let him kiss you so you forget about that CD!

The darkness flares alive when Megumi sees you carefully applying your makeup and styling your hair in the morning before work. Why do you feel the need to make yourself look so pretty for your coworkers? You shouldn't care about what they think of you.

"Darling, you've already taken up the bathroom for twenty minutes."

He walks up behind you and slings his arms around your waist, long fingers sprawling possessively over your hips as he leans down to kiss your neck. He gets a whiff of your perfume, the sexy one, the one he always associates with you under him, moaning his name and looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes as your legs rest on Megumi's shoulders and he turns his head to kiss your ankle and breathe in the soft traces of perfume.

Cold fear forms a knot in his stomach, and his fingers tighten on your body.

"You dress up like you are going on a date... It's only work. Don't waste so much time on your makeup. Join me on a morning walk instead. Hm? What do you say, my love? The dogs would be happy too if you join us."

He sounds calm, a bit amused even. Carefully constructed criticism, so it won't make you think he is jealous. Megumi knows jealousy is a reason for many relationship problems and breakups. So, he is careful to hide his genuine emotions. He is careful to veil his true intentions behind this mask of playful teasing.

You laugh softly and lift your head to look at him in the mirror. Your small hands land on Megumi's and interlace your fingers with his.

"Aww baby, does that mean you think I look pretty?"

You playfully bat your eyelashes at him in the mirror, and Megumi's lips lift in a soft smile.

"Of course I do. My wife always looks beautiful."

He loves the feeling of your wedding ring pressing against the matching ring on his finger. He trails more kisses down your neck with growing urgency. Maybe he should show you how much he treasures you. Maybe he should remind you who you belong to. Maybe if he fucks you good enough, he will be the only one on your mind while you're at work.

His hands slip under your skirt, pushing it up as he watches you in the mirror, blue eyes looking intently as he brushes his long fingers slowly over your panty-clad pussy, rubbing your clit tenderly through the thin fabric.

He can see your lashes flutter, can see the way your lips fall open, even as a weak complaint leaves them,

"Megumi... not now. I will be late for work..."

But Megumi knows what he's doing, and soon your resolve breaks, and you are putty in his hands, leaning against him as he kisses and caresses you. Whining softly as he pushes your panties to the side and rubs your swollen wet clit in tender circles, spreading your creamy wetness over your silky folds, driving you crazy with his tender touches.

Your hands grab the sink tightly when he pushes two long fingers into your wet creamy heat, fucking you slowly with them until you are on the brink of cumming all over his hand.

His heart feels so full, and he can't help but smile when you tremble in his arms and whine and moan, begging him to please fuck you for real.

You cling desperately to him when he lifts you up and carries you back to the bedroom. You moan his name needily when he fucks you hard into the mattress, in a mating press, pressing your knees to your chest so he can go extra deep, rolling his hips slowly against yours, basking in the sounds of your wet pussy, taking his cock. Feeling light-headed upon hearing the noises you make for him, the soft mewls and loud moans.

He tells you to look at him, so he can get the reassurance of seeing the pleasure on your face and the love in your eyes when you cum for him, pussy clenching greedily around him, milking his cock as if you never want to let him go again.

He groans in satisfaction, eyes finally closing when he feels his orgasm wash over him, his cock twitching and spilling his seed deep inside you.

Afterward, Megumi helps you put on your panties again, pulling them up, even as you complain,

"W...wait, baby. I have to wash up first."

His blue eyes are stern when he looks at you and shakes his head.

"No, go like that. I want you to be my good girl and walk around all day with my cum leaking out of your pretty pussy. Think about me anytime you feel it. Think about how much I love you, darling. And once you come back home, I will fill you up again. Will you do that for me? Will you be my good girl?"

You bite your lip and grin at him, obviously turned on by his words,

"Ok, sir. I'll be your good girl."

You let him pull up your panties again and fix your skirt for you, moaning when he kisses your cheek and praises you for being so good for him.

Megumi feels much more at ease again when he drops you at work. You kiss him goodbye a bit longer and deeper than necessary, your tongue flicking against his, whispering against his lips before you part from him,

"That was such a hot morning, baby."

He feels calm and reassured when he watches you leave the car and slowly walk towards the entrance of the large building you work in. He even sings along to the music playing on the radio on the drive home and hums a little tune to himself when he takes the dogs for a walk in the park before he leaves for work.

Megumi knows he isn't a good man, but he can't help it.

There is this wolf inside him who watches with cold, narrowed eyes as you say goodbye to your coworker before you jog over to where Megumi is waiting in the parked car for you.

There is this beast inside him that digs its claws into his heart and whispers all those hurtful things into his ear.

Didn't you smile at your coworker a bit too brightly? Didn't you stand a bit too close to him? Didn't you laugh a bit too loud at whatever he said?

Megumi grits his teeth, silently growling at the wolf to shut up and fuck off.

Leave me alone! She loves me. She is my wife.

But the wolf whispers back,

But how long will she be your wife? How long before she finds someone better?

Megumi huffs and hits the steering wheel before he grabs it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, trying to calm his breathing.

Just in time before you yank open the passenger seat door and greet him with a broad smile and a loud,

"Heyyy, baby!"

You climb into the seat and lean over to greet him with a sweet kiss on his cheek.

Megumi can't help but reach out to put a hand on the back of your neck, elegant long fingers caressing your skin as he pulls you closer to kiss you on the mouth, a deep possessive kiss, letting you know who you belong to. Hoping that your coworker sees it.

But when he pulls away, Megumi's mask is perfectly in place. Calm, aloof, a soft smile lighting up his pretty face, blue eyes looking deeply into yours as he asks you innocently,

"How was work, sweetheart?"

You sigh and tell him about boring meetings and a workload that is much too high to handle.

He fucks you a bit harder that night, handles you a bit rougher. Harder thrusts, firmer touches. His strong hands capture your wrists, wrap tightly around them, and fix them above your head while Megumi's tall, lean-muscled body presses you down onto the mattress. His face is buried in your neck, groaning softly, whimpering your name and how much he loves you.

He sees the bruises on your wrists at breakfast the next morning, feeling guilt wash over him. Guilt that makes him hug you gently and make your coffee extra good. He breathes tender kisses on your wrists, long black lashes flutter around his dark blue eyes, his voice is low, full of regret,

"It seems I was a bit too rough last night. I am so sorry, darling."

"It's fine, Megumi, please don't worry, baby. I like it when you get so passionate."

Megumi feels the iron grip around his heart loosen. He smiles softly into your hair and kisses the top of your head, wrapping a strong arm around you and hugging you. He likes that you are so much smaller than he is, the way your face rests against his toned chest. The way you snuggle into his strong arms, sighing happily when Megumi hugs you even tighter. The way you seek the safety of his arms and the warmth of his body. The way you trust him so completely.

When Megumi pulls away, he takes your left hand and brings it to his lips to place a lingering kiss on the large sparkling diamond on your wedding ring.

Mine.

"And then she threw her stuff into a suitcase and just left!"

Your eyes are sparkling excitedly, hands gesturing wildly as you sit across from Megumi at the dinner table, apparently finding great joy in re-telling the newest drama in your friend group.

Megumi doesn't share your excitement. On the contrary, his blood is rushing loudly in his ears. He feels sick. His hand is clutching the steak knife so tightly that it hurts.

He lifts his gaze from the red juices of the medium rare meat building a little sea on the white plate. His blue eyes narrow as he fixes you with a frown,

"And she just threw her marriage away? How long have they been together? Seven years? And she just left him?"

"Megumi! Didn't you listen? He forgot her birthday! And he spent more and more time playing his online games instead of doing things with her! She was frustrated!"

And that was enough to end a marriage?

Megumi gulps hard.

Well, that's how the world ticks, right? That's how people tick. They say they love you, but then they just leave. Promises mean nothing. Words mean nothing. They get forgotten, they get twisted, they get taken back.

Seven years.

Your friend had been with her husband for seven years, and she left him because of minor, unimportant things. Instead of fighting for her love, instead of trying to talk to him and fix things, she picked the easy way and left. Just like the way most people do nowadays.

All those breakups, all those divorces. All those single parents and abandoned kids. All the tabloids are full of celebrities who split up after decades of presenting themselves as the happiest couple ever.

How is Megumi still supposed to trust in love? In you? In your feelings for him?

What if your friends put something into your head? What if one of them voices their doubt about Megumi being good enough for you? What if? What if they give you some crazy idea about looking for someone else who is not as flawed as him?

They already advocate giving up on your partner and acting as if being selfish and throwing relationships away is something one should be proud of and celebrate.

Those people are a bad influence on you. He has to do something about this.

It's easy.

He calls his cousin Maki, asking her to meet him for lunch, using family business as an excuse. He knows she will not come alone, and of course, he is right. By her side is her girlfriend Nobara, always so chatty, always so gossipy. The perfect person to help him achieve his goal.

Megumi quickly finishes the business talk with Maki, and then it's time to set his plan in motion. A few comments here and there about you feeling down lately because there seems to be drama in your friend group, and naturally, Nobara is all ears, leaning across the table, asking him for more details, grinning broadly as she soaks up the gossip greedily.

He can stir the pot. He can make up lies. He can make them look bad. He can make Nobara become indignant and invested and already typing a text message furiously.

And nothing will ever get traced back to Megumi. No one would ever think he is the type for gossip. He is a very serious and professional man who wouldn't be caught dead indulging in petty things like that. No one will believe Nobara if she mentions Megumi was involved in this.

And the beautiful thing about gossip is that no one ever finds out who started it. Once it gets released into the world, it grows and mutates until it's so messy that it's like it has its own will. No one can tell anymore who said what.

Megumi leaves with a content smile. He set things into motion today. Now, he just has to wait.

It takes three days until he catches you standing in the kitchen, your coffee forgotten, wiping tears off your cheeks and looking miserably up at him as he walks towards you with concerned blue eyes,

"Babe, what's wrong?"

You sniffle against his chest, your warm tears seeping through the thin cotton of his shirt as you tell him about the drama that escalated quickly. False accusations, one of your friends claiming you talked about her behind her back. You apparently said that she was involved in the split up of your other friend because she had an affair with the husband and wanted him for herself. And now all your other friends bonded with that friend, not believing you when you say you never did any of that.

You are crying and clinging to Megumi, sobbing into his shirt,

"They don't want to be friends with me anymore. They kicked me out of the group chat and everything!"

Megumi's arms tighten around you. He knows he is selfish. He knows he is the worst. His heart breaks for you when he feels you shaking in his arms. But he only did what had to be done. He cannot let those bitches put their dangerous opinions in your head. He cannot let anyone come between you and him. He needs you.

He hates himself for causing you this pain. But he can ease it. He can show you that you don't need those women. You already have a husband who loves you and cares for you.

He is your strong shoulder to cry on, offering you his love, his reassurance, and his compassion as he caresses your back soothingly and whispers sweet words to you.

"I am so sorry, babe. You don't deserve that. Please promise me you won't talk to them again. They don't deserve to call themselves your friends after this. And you'll always have me, darling. I am always here for you."

Megumi hates to be that guy, but he can't stop himself from balling his hands into fists under the table when you tell him about work every evening over dinner. The way your eyes gleam, the way you laugh as you recount the funny conversations you had with your coworkers.

He feels guilty. He knows a good man would be happy for you. But Megumi isn't a good man. And so he sits there stiffly, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms as the jealousy spreads its poison through his blood.

It's not fair that your coworkers get to spend so much time with you. That they have so many inside jokes with you that Megumi simply cannot understand even when you tell him about them. It's not fair that they can make you feel so much. Do you have more fun with them than you have with Megumi?

Probably. He isn't a very fun person. He is too serious, too stern, too controlled. He gulps hard, remembering one incident a year ago when you told him playfully to loosen up a bit. You had smiled and ruffled his hair, but Megumi had felt as if you had stabbed his heart. He had once again felt inadequate. Not enough.

What if you get tired of him? What if you realize that one of your coworkers is a better match for you? That one of them makes you laugh more than Megumi can? That one of them brings more positive energy into your life than Megumi can do?

What if the process of you falling out of love with him and catching feelings for someone else has already started?

Cold fear grips Megumi's heart. He has to do something! You cannot go to work anymore!

But how can he convince you to stay home? It's not like he didn't already try. Megumi is rich. He is the heir of the Zenin family, already a CEO in his mid-twenties. He could easily provide you with everything you need! The moment you were married, he suggested that you could quit your job and become a housewife. He knew lots of women dreamed of this.

But unfortunately, not you.

You had laughed and rubbed his arm, cooing at him how sweet he was. But no thanks, you wanted to go to work. You liked it there, and you wanted to have something for yourself too!

Megumi's alternate plan had been to ask you to work in his company. Wouldn't it be nice to be in his department? Wouldn't it be nice to be married to your boss?

But you turned his offer down with a smile and a sweet kiss.

"That sounds tempting, babe. But I would hate all the gossip and the accusations. You know how people are. No one would take me seriously. They would all think I have special privileges because I am your wife!"

"So what? Let them talk. Who cares what they think?"

"It would make me uncomfortable. Besides, I already have a job I enjoy and really nice coworkers. I know you only mean well, Megumi. But I don't think it would be good if I worked for your company."

So Megumi had to give up.

There is another option, though. An option that would solve all his problems and bind you even more to him: Having a baby together.

Megumi decides right then and there at the dinner table that he has to prioritize this option. His long fingers dance over his phone display, typing a quick message to Yuuji, his best friend and coincidentally a dad of two little twin boys.

He smiles when his friend replies almost instantly. Megumi puts his phone away and looks at you,

"The Itadoris will come over for coffee this Saturday."

Saturdays are always one of Megumi's favorite days. Saturdays mean you are at home, where you should be, with no work no coworkers. And this Saturday is even better because you are kneeling on the lush carpet in the living room, cooing at two pink-haired baby boys who kick their chubby legs and smile big, adorable smiles at you.

The thing with Megumi's best friend, Yuuji, is that this guy has so much charm and sunshine vibes that he can draw anyone in. And luckily, his babies are exactly the same. The perfect means to what Megumi hopes to achieve. If the Itadori babies can't convince you to become a mom, he doesn't know what else could!

And Yuuji unknowingly plays his part perfectly, too. He is sitting on the floor, laughing and playing with his twins, talking to you about how happy they make him and how amazing his life has been since he became a stay-at-home dad.

"I really enjoyed my work as a firefighter, but it is nothing compared to the joy I feel at home with the twins! This is the best thing that ever happened to me!"

You laugh and tell him he is doing such a good job, but then you add,

"Aren't you getting bored, though? I mean, as a firefighter, you had a high-energy job, with lots of physical activity and all the emergencies, the adrenalin and stuff. I guess being at home must be boring for you at times?"

Itadori shakes his head and smiles that big, toothy smile.

"Nah, I never get bored! Those two little whirlwinds keep me busy! And I can finally learn so many new recipes! I finally have time to cook and bake! And I work out at home or take long runs with the little ones in the stroller, so I am still just as active as before!"

That night, Megumi hugs you from behind and smiles against your neck as he gently strokes your stomach.

"Yuuji's twins are really cute, aren't they? You seemed to be very smitten with them."

For a moment, he thinks he has you. But then you chuckle softly and caress the back of his hand as you tell him,

"They are so cute. And Yuuji is so proud and so happy. It really makes you think, doesn't it? How would our babies look? What would life with them be like? But it's too soon. I want to work for a while longer, at least. I am so close to getting promoted. If I would take a baby leave now, I could forget that. But we still have lots of time, so it's no problem."

Megumi grits his teeth, counting silently to ten before he replies in a carefully neutral tone,

"Yes, you are right, darling. We have all the time in the world."

Megumi is a bad man, and he hates himself for it, but he can't help wishing all the worst things on your coworker. That guy with the short brown hair and the glasses. Why is it that he is chatting with you every fucking day after work? Megumi can see it all clearly from where he is waiting for you in the car.

What's that guy's problem? Why is he trying to hit on a married woman? Megumi isn't stupid. He can clearly see what those guy's intentions are! The casual touches! The big smiles and loud laughs. The overly nice farewell.

Megumi wants to get out of the car and punch that stupid smile off that idiot's face! But he has to keep cool. He has to act as if everything is fine.

Nothing is fine.

Megumi is seething with anger. His vision goes blurry as fear swallows him. It's just a short text message, but to him, it's the same as standing in the middle of the apocalypse.

"Hey babe, some of my coworkers are going out for drinks after work tonight. I agreed to join them, so please don't wait for me for dinner. I will eat something at the bar. I love you!"

His hands are shaking as he stares at the phone screen. Should he feign a sickness? He is sure you would rush home to him if he did that. But no, that will only make him look weak. You don't need a weak man. You need a strong guy who takes care of you.

There is no choice.

"Alright, darling. Have fun. Call me when you're finished so I can pick you up. I love you too."

He throws the phone onto the leather couch in his office with an angry growl. He already sees it all in his head. The chill atmosphere of the bar. The dim lights, the cocktails. The alcohol will make your mind cloudy. And your flirty coworker will use that to his advantage and steal what belongs to Megumi!

His whole day is ruined. Megumi storms out of his office, informing his assistant that there is a family emergency, snapping at her to get things managed for him when she tells him he has several important meetings today.

As if any of that is of importance! Stupid nonsense! All that matters is you!

You, who belong to Megumi! You, who is too kind and sweet and naive to realize what your coworker is trying to do!

Megumi drives home too fast, even though he doesn't even know what he can do at home. He strolls restlessly from one end of the living room to the next, breathing heavily as his mind is in a whirlwind of negative thoughts.

Evening comes, and Megumi grabs his car keys and his coat, jogs down to his car, and drives downtown. It's as if some invisible force pulls him here. As if he is some onlooker of a catastrophe that cannot look away. He needs to be there. He needs to see it with his own eyes.

He hides in the shadows outside the bar, something he has always been good at. When you are an abandoned, grumpy child who gets dismissed as a troublemaker, you learn to become friends with the shadows.

No one pays close attention to him. He isn't suspicious. He's just a tall, good-looking man in expensive dark clothes waiting for someone.

Megumi's chest feels heavy as he narrows his eyes and watches through the window. Your little group sits at a table in the middle of the bar. Happy faces, drinks get raised, laughter gets shared. Your eyes sparkle with joy. Megumi's heart clenches painfully. You are so beautiful. On the inside and outside. Everything he has ever wanted.

But you are in the cozy light of the bar, in the warm room, smiling and laughing and being loved by everyone. And Megumi is out here in the dark, in the cold of the night, all alone, someone who gets abandoned, who gets replaced. Someone who loneliness clings to like a curse.

Your coworker with the brown hair and the glasses sits next to you. Of course, he does! He leans closer to you, brushing his shoulder against yours, turning to talk to you, and you throw your head back and laugh, clearly enjoying what he said.

Megumi's hands ball into fists in the pockets of his coat. A decision is made. Megumi will not lose you. He will mold the world into one where you stay with him. He will control the circumstances, so you have no choice but to be by his side. He will erase everyone who wants to take you away from him. The first one to go will be your flirty coworker.

It's a thought that should be concerning. An idea that would terrify others. But not Megumi. He hasn't been scared of things like these for a long time. He was six when his father left. He was a little child and fended for himself for half a year before people found out he and his sister lived all alone. Megumi isn't scared of using his fists or his mind to take people down who try to hurt him. Violence doesn't scare him. The only thing that scares him is losing you.

It takes a week of planning and observing before everything is perfect.

Megumi picks you up from work and drives you home like every day. He kisses you tenderly as he lets you get out of the car in front of your apartment, telling you that he has to go back to the Zenin building because he still has to make some changes to an important business contract. He drives to his office and makes sure several people see him before he sneaks out and drives to another part of the city.

He parks his car in a sidestreet and walks the rest of the way. His heart is beating rapidly, but his mind is strangely clear. He is a man on a mission. A righteous mission. A husband who ensures his marriage will stay happy.

The black leather gloves feel soft on his hands as Megumi jogs through the dimly lit park. He spots his rival after ten minutes. Megumi follows him slowly, blue eyes observing their surroundings carefully. He feels excited. The thrill of the hunt is sending adrenaline through his veins.

Megumi feels grim satisfaction when he tackles the man to the ground behind a group of trees. He doesn't feel any remorse when he brings the knife down in several precise movements. He can't bring himself to see anything wrong with his actions. He hates bad people, and this guy clearly is a bad person if he is trying to steal someone else's wife. He deserves to die!

Megumi feels elation when he watches with cold blue eyes as the life seeps out of the man who wanted to steal you.

His heart feels light when he finally is back in his car after leaving the cold body of his rival lying in a bloody puddle. He whistles a soft tune on the drive home, feeling as if a great weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

He goes home to you, takes a quick shower, and then slips into bed behind your warm body, smiling when you snuggle against him, mumbling his name with so much love. He makes slow love to you, rolling on top of you, gentle, sleepy sex that makes you wrap your legs around him and mewl cutely as he moves on top of you, deep, slow thrusts accompanied by tender kisses.

You call Megumi at noon the next day when he is in the middle of a meeting. He excuses himself, taking your call to hear your shrill voice telling him that something terrible happened.

And Megumi smiles while he tells you,

"That's horrible, darling. I am coming to pick you up immediately. Please don't go anywhere without me."

He is a good husband, rushing to your workplace to pick up his distraught wife and take her home.

He wraps you in a warm blanket on the couch and brings you tea. He hugs you, pulls you into his strong arms, and tells you he is there for you, tells you that you are safe with him and that he will always protect you.

And you cling to him, crying, scared, and shaken up, burying your face in his chest, snuggling against his firm muscles.

"It's so... It's so crazy and scary. I mean... I have been sitting across from him in the office for several years! We got along so well! I would even say we were friends! And now he... he is... oh god, Megumi! He just went on a run in the park, and someone robbed him and stabbed him! It's like you aren't safe anywhere anymore!"

You hiccup, pressing your face against Megumi's firm chest, your fingers clutching his shirt tightly. He holds you and cuddles you while feeling elated that you need him so bad.

You call in sick for work for three days in a row, and Megumi thinks he has you. You are shaken up, scared by the fact that someone you know got murdered. A terrifying reminder that life outside isn't safe. You could get attacked anywhere at any time.

Megumi pets your hair and strokes your back, telling you to lock the door and snuggle under the blanket with the dogs.

"They will protect you while I'm at work, my love. You are safe here. Just don't leave the apartment. I will be back in a few hours and look after you."

He thinks he did it. He thinks you finally see that it's best to always stay in here. He thinks he can finally rest assured, knowing his sweet wife will only see him and no one else.

But the relief is short-lived.

You get out of bed on the fourth day, smiling bravely and telling Megumi that you feel better again.

"I can't hide away in here forever, Megumi. I have to get back to work."

He punches the wall when you close the bathroom door behind you, cursing under his breath. Why are you doing this to him? Why can't you just let Megumi take care of everything? Why must you be so adamant about standing on your own feet?

Fear is crashing over him again with thick black waves, pulling him under and drowning him in a sea of desperation.

Everything was fine for a few days! You were here, safe and sound, and letting Megumi dote on you! You were only his alone for a few days, and it had felt like the world was finally at peace, that Megumi was finally at peace! He cannot lose this feeling again!

Megumi is an intelligent man, and that is his curse! He isn't one of those naive fools like Itadori, who is, of course, a kind and amazing person, but he is too trusting, always smiling his stupid sunshine smile and not thinking much when his wife leaves the house to go to work all day and meet her friends and coworkers.

Megumi cannot be like that! He knows things! He knows firsthand how unreliable people are! People change their minds all the time. Even those closest to you might leave from one day to the next.

Love doesn't last. Even couples who have been together for decades suddenly cheat on each other and get divorced.

It all comes down to one thing: You cannot trust anyone. Even the most loyal soul might get weak when faced with too much temptation. And why would you stay with someone as flawed as Megumi if you ever get presented with the choice to be with someone who is perfect?

It's not that Megumi doubts your love for him in the here and now. He knows you love him. He frequently reads the texts you send your remaining friends where you swoon about him. He sees how your face lights up with affection when he does all those little acts of service for you. He sees you cry and sob and whine for him almost every night when he makes sure to fuck you so good that he spoils you for any other man.

Yes, you love him. But this is now. What will be in a year? In five? In ten?

Megumi simply cannot bring himself to be as naive as to believe in eternal love and loyalty. His father made sure to show him otherwise. People like Itadori are so clueless, so naive. But not Megumi. He is always prepared to get left behind again.

It's natural. Feelings fade with time, and then it all depends on other circumstances.

Love won't be enough.

He has to make sure you stay with him, not just because you love him because that love can vanish. He has to make sure you are dependent on him. You have to know you cannot just walk away. He needs to make sure you are financially dependent on him. And he has to make sure you don't have anyone else but him. If you have nowhere else to go, you must stay with him.

He slowly unclenches his fists, forcing himself to breathe calmly. He can do this. There must be a way! He already succeeded in isolating you from that friend group he didn't approve of. Now, if you only weren't so stubborn when it comes to work!

Megumi sighs and runs a hand through his unruly black hair. His gaze lands on a patch of color sticking out from under the carpet before the couch. He frowns and walks over, leaning down to inspect it. It's a red pacifier. Yuuji must have dropped it.

Megumi picks it up and holds it between two elegant fingers, turning it thoughtfully from one side to the next.

Maybe there is one more thing he can do.

It's a good thing he is so skilled with his fingers. It's difficult to manipulate the packaging of your birth control pills, but Megumi took the day off to execute his plan meticulously. He carefully pulls the aluminum foil off the blister packaging, flushes the contraceptives down the toilet, and then replaces them with some mild painkillers that look identical.

It takes some effort to fix the foil again, but Megumi has steady hands, and he is driven by desperation and a firm conviction.

By the end of the day, he holds the manipulated packaging proudly in his hands.

He feels a tiny wave of guilt when he puts it back into your nightstand. But it vanishes again when he reminds himself that he is doing this out of love. He just wants to make sure the two of you stay together. And he knows that even if you are shocked at first, you will learn to embrace the thought of becoming a mother.

You were so happy when you saw Yuuji's twins! You will be even more delighted when it's your and Megumi's baby that you hold in your arms! He is just giving you what you want anyway. A happy family. Megumi and you, your baby, and two dogs! The perfect family everybody wishes for! You will learn to love your new life!

Megumi waits. Of course, he keeps track of your monthly cycle. It's something he has always done. As a good caring husband, he always wanted to know at which times of the month the hormones would make you act a certain way, make you sad, or make you horny. But now it's like a countdown to Christmas or his birthday.

Megumi's eyes follow you all day, excitement tingling in his veins when he kisses you before you leave for work. You have started to ovulate. Tonight, he will breed you.

You both don't get a lot of sleep that night. Megumi pulls you onto his lap after dinner, kissing you deeply, licking into your mouth with deep, demanding kisses while his graceful hands slip under your skirt to rub your clit through your panties, driving you wild on his lap, making you mewl into his mouth and grind needily against him, so wet that you stain his pants.

He smiles when he steers you to the bedroom, his cock throbbing eagerly against his pants. Tonight, he will make you a mommy.

You look so beautiful beneath him, your face sweaty and damp from tears of bliss running down your cheeks, your eyes closed in pleasure, your mouth hanging open in loud moans and needy mewls.

Your legs rest on Megumi's shoulders, your body writhes under him, meeting every deep thrust of his needily. He can feel your cunt twitch around him, can feel how wet you are for him, how it stains the bed sheets under you. He can smell how fertile you are, that unmistakenly sweet, enticing smell your pussy has when you are ovulating. It drives him wild tonight. It makes him fuck you hard and deep, rubbing your clit firmly to make you cum on his cock over and over again, making your orgasming pussy milk him dry.

You are so good for him, such a sweet wife, such a good girl, taking all his seed so deeply into you. And Megumi makes sure to keep it in there. He lies on top of you, pressing you into the sheets, moaning softly, his heart overflowing with love when his lips find yours in a long, tender kiss while your pussy pulses around his spent cock.

He stays inside you until his cock softens and slips out of you, leaving a hot sticky trail of his seed and your cream on your inner thighs. Megumi watches you with heavy-lidded dark blue eyes as he pushes his cum back into you, fingering you thoroughly with his ring finger and middle finger, watching in fascination as your combined juices drip down his long fingers and onto the wedding ring he is wearing.

He smiles and coos at you, full of love and praise, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, groaning when he feels your pussy tightening around his fingers.

"Yes, princess, you are such a good girl for me. Cum on my fingers, sweetheart. Fuck, you're so beautiful!"

He smiles as he watches you come undone for him, letting him fuck all his warm seed back into you, stuffing you with it, making sure you keep it all inside.

For good measure, he takes you again an hour later, fucking you deep and thoroughly, rolling his hips against you, making his full balls slap loudly against you, giving you all his fertile seed, smiling when he imagines you holding a blue-eyed black-haired baby on your arm, waiting for Megumi when he comes home after work.

He comes so hard that he almost blacks out, and his loud feral moan is even drowning out your needy mewls.

Megumi watches you wolfishly. He knows your period should have started three days ago. But every time he checks your stack of tampons and pads, he can see that you haven't used any yet.

He feels a glorious satisfaction as he watches you grow more nervous every day. You constantly leave for the bathroom, probably to check whether your period has finally started, only to return with a feverish look in your eyes.

He waits patiently for several days more so as not to arouse any suspicion. Then he casually asks after kissing you goodbye when leaving for work,

"Oh babe, I'm going to grab some things at the drugstore today after work. Do you need anything? I think you are pretty close to that time of the month, aren't you? Do you need tampons or pads?"

He has to bite his lip not to smile when he sees the emotions flickering over your face. Worry, shame, nervousness. Your lips start to tremble, and finally, you spit it all out,

"I... Oh, Megumi! It should have started six days ago! I am so worried! Like I know it can't be. I... I can't be pregnant... I am on the pill! But... but it's so strange! I have never been late!"

He feigns understanding, smiling gently at you and pulling you against his chest, hugging you comfortingly to his tall, lean-muscled body.

"Aww, please don't worry, darling. It will be fine. Maybe you forgot to take a pill? It can happen so fast. Life is hectic."

He can see your eyes widen. It was a good thing to say. You can be pretty chaotic and forgetful. It's easy to cast doubt and make you believe it was your mistake. He can feel you stiffen in his arms. And when you lift your head to look at him, guilt is written all over your pretty face,

"Shit... that's a possibility, yeah. I can be such a distracted idiot! I am so stupid!"

"No, please don't blame yourself, babe. Really, it's ok. Look, we already agreed that we want to have kids someday, right? So, what if it happens a bit sooner than planned? I don't mind at all, darling. I love you, and I will always take care of you and our possible kids. Don't worry."

You blink rapidly as tears gather in your eyes, and Megumi cups your cheek and caresses it tenderly,

"Why don't you take the day off, babe? We can buy some pregnancy tests and see what's going on. And no matter what the tests say, everything will be fine, I promise you. You can always count on me, my love. We will get through everything together."

You nod wildly and smile gratefully at him as tears run down your cheeks, and you throw yourself into Megumi's arms again, letting him comfort you.

"O...ok, Megumi. Thank you, baby. I love you too."

You are so cute like this, nervous and scared, needing Megumi so much. He drives you back home with only one hand on the steering wheel. His other hand is clutched tightly between your cold fingers. A small happy smile tugs at the corners of Megumi's lips. He likes this. He likes being needed by you.

Finally, things will be in his favor. He knows it.

You are a nervous wreck the whole remaining day, pacing the living room restlesssly until Megumi gets in your way and makes you bump against his tall, lean-muscled body, and he pulls you in his arms, reassuring you, giving you all the comfort and love you need.

Megumi sets an alarm for six in the morning so you can take the pregnancy test. He is already awake, unable to sleep with how excited he is when the alarm starts blaring, and you jump out of bed at the first sound of it, shaking a bit as you look at him with big eyes,

"It's time... ok, I'll... I'll take the test now."

And Megumi is there for you, of course. He is the best husband you could wish for. Caring, loving, devoted, reliable. Megumi is someone you can count on. He smiles gently at you and takes your hand.

"You mean, we will take the test now. I am here for you, sweetheart. You aren't alone."

He leads you to the bathroom. He reads the instructions to you and hands you a plastic cup. He leans against the sink and smiles as you pee into the cup, refusing to leave your side even for one minute. A husband and wife can share every moment after all. There is no shame.

You smile sheepishly at him as you walk over to him, and Megumi takes the plastic cup out of your trembling hand.

"You're doing great, darling. Let me do the rest."

He prepares the test and pulls you into his strong arms, letting you hide your face in his firm, muscled chest, breathing in the comforting scent of the shirt he slept in while you wait for the test result.

Megumi strokes your back soothingly. His lips brush over your earlobe as he murmurs to you,

"No matter what the test says, I love you."

The sound of the alarm makes you jump. Megumi is the one who takes the test off the sink with steady fingers. He already knows what it will say.

"Pregnant."

His strong arms catch you when you sway lightly on your feet. His lips press gently against your hair, breathing a soft kiss to your forehead. You cannot see it, but the smile on Megumi's face is the happiest he has ever smiled.

You bury your face in his shirt, your voice sounds muffled, full of tears,

"I am so sorry Megumi! If only I had been more careful! I... oh god, what if I fail at being a mom? And now you will have so much more responsibility too, and it's my fault, and I..."

He silences your tearful ramblings by making you lift your head and capture your lips in a deep kiss, licking the salty taste of your tears out of your mouth. His heart feels like bursting, so exhilarated, so happy. It's lovely to see you so weak. So dependent on him. He loves to be needed.

He cups your cheek lovingly when he pulls away from the kiss. Dark blue eyes look deeply into yours, almost as if he is trying to hypnotize you and drill his words into your brain,

"You will be a wonderful mom, and I will gladly take on this new responsibility. I love you, and I love our child. I will always provide for you, darling. I will always be yours, and you will always be mine."

He finally has everything he ever wanted. A diamond ring is sparkling on your finger. Your belly will soon be swollen with his baby, showing everyone his claim on you. You will stay at home from now on, far away from anyone who could possibly steal you away from your husband.

And if you decide to return to work one day, Megumi will just knock you up again. He is obviously quite skilled at fucking a baby into you, and he will do it as often as the circumstances require it.

Yes, Megumi finally has everything he ever wanted.

You.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Forever.

Thank you so much for reading my second story for Halloween 2023!! I am sorry that it got so long, but it was so much fun to write Megumi's descent into madness ;)

I hope you enjoyed Yandere!Megumi!! Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!!

Once again, thank you so much to Loni for hosting this super fun Halloween Collab!! I could finally write this story after having it in my drafts for two years!!

#megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi smut #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x you #fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #tw dark content #tw yandere #tw pregnancy

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withahappyrefrain · 3 months

Text

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you.

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it.

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new.

It also brought up many questions.

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you.

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face.

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp.

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four.

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner.

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated.

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.”

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them.

At least that's what the other thought.

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up.

“Been awhile?”

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought.

“Try never.”

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt.

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest.

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?”

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied.

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation.

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you.

Darn those long limbs.

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain.

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.”

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?”

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people.

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship.

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else?

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?”

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different.

You rubbed your thighs together.

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?”

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee.

Have his hands always been so big and veiny?

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands?

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?”

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing.

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point?

“You…like doing it?”

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.”

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work.

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual.

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.”

“You don't have to wait.”

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking.

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear.

You heard me.

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational.

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left.

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body.

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.”

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo.

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up.

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching.

For what, you couldn't tell.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you want it to be different?”

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back.

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe.

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained.

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special.

He was never that way with the other girls he dated.

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter.

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching.

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut.

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said.

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were.

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his.

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild.

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt.

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.”

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to.

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable.

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations.

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips.

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were.

How could he do that so quickly?

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight.

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth.

Thank god your parents were on vacation.

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off.

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch.

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you.

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet.

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier.

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.

He laughed. Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet.

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it.

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit.

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out.

Good.

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible.

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled.

And he had just gotten started.

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time.

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away.

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Robby.”

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century.

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving.

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch.

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up.

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible.

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did.

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it.

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued. Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard.

Why did either of you wait this long?

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth.

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy.

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out.

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you.

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release.

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under.

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time.

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt.

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours.

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his.

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.”

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid?

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick-

Jesus Christ, he was huge.

“Fuck, she was right.”

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?”

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once.

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?”

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform.

“I….we can unpack this later-”

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?”

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick.

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful.

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock.

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.”

Darlin. You were his darlin.

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears.

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy.

Even he didn't know when he would return home.

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship.

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern.

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes.

“I don't want you to go.”

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them.

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you.

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.”

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his.

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards.

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.”

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory.

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him.

He was going to need it for the next few months.

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere.

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension.

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask.

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things.

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed.

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.”

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-”

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock.

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was.

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious.

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars.

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls.

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him.

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.”

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer.

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd.

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group.

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus.

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria.

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it.

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock.

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?”

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release.

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his.

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body.

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go.

You’d be a damn fool to.

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob.

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?”

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.”

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?”

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?”

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter.

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?”

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple.

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?”

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

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@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

#my writing #Bob Floyd #Robert Floyd #Robert Bob Floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #Bob fucks #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #Bob Floyd smut #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x female reader #top gun smut #top gun fanfiction

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mockerycrow · 10 months

Text

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

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