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beardedjoel · 6 months

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smother - part i: deliverance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!

Save me. Please, anyone…

Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.

A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.

A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.

You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.

You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.

You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess.

You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.

“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.

Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.

You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.

The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.

Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void.

“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?”

You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”

His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone.

You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly.

“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him.

He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.

“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame.

You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”

You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him.

“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening.

“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”

Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power.

Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots.

You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention.

“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.

You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“

“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response.

“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life.

He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”

You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.

“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”

You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”

“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.

Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked.

“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food.

“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue.

“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”

You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.

“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes.

“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?

“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.

You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.

“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.

“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.

“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”

You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously.

“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better.

You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to.

Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything.

“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth.

“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”

You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”

Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”

You shrug. “No…”

“Your family? They with ya at this community?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now.

“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses.

“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now.

“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy.

And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now.

Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.

He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment.

“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet.

You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees.

“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.

You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.

“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.

You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further.

“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.

“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”

One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows.

“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now.

He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“T-thank you. B-but-”

“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.

“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him.

He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.

“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”

He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.

“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.”

Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?

You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about.

“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help.

You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard.

“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”

You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”

His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.

You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”

Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”

You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.

“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.

“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn.

Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.

Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.

Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”

He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”

Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.

“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.

“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one.

“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch.

“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.

“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”

Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”

Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.

You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.

Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.

His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.

He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.

You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off.

Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there.

You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.

This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.

You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it.

He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”

Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”

You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks.

“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were.

You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”

Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all.

You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.”

“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him.

You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself.

“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”

His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little.

“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you.

You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.

“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.

“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”

You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.

“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.

“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring.

All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.

“What’re you…”

“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands.

He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.

“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.

“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response.

“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.

He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.

“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…”

You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.

If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.

You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights.

dividers by @/saradika!

thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back <3

#fic: smother #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel miller x reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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calmcoldevening · 2 months

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Hello, I was wondering if you could write something for Thomas Hewitt. I mean if you don't want that's fine and things. You don't have too. But if you do I was thinking about something like the reader is like a baker and like maybe they worked near him when the slaughterhouse was actually open and up for business. If you do this thank you. Also have a nice day!

Of course, kitten. Thank you for your request! Have a nice day, drink water qnd and eat well, remember about your health please ♡⁠

Thomas Hewitt x baker!reader

• You've always enjoyed cooking for as long as you can remember. At first it was something simple, but these dishes were already very tasty. Over time, you realized that you wanted to do only buns and various cakes.

• You lived in a small town in Texas where rumors spread very quickly and everyone knew each other. Your baking became popular very quickly, dozens of people came to you every day and small children came running in the hope of eating something new and delicious.

• You knew about the Hewitt family, and they even visited your bakery a couple of times. He was usually a tall, muscular guy with long hair, as you found out later, Thomas. Despite his rough appearance, he was always quite timid and shy when he placed an order at your bakery. The guy couldn't talk, so usually his mom would write him a note. Over time, you yourself began to understand what he needed to buy. Thomas seemed like a very nice and caring guy to you. From time to time, he would come to your bakery no longer for bread or anything else, but just to see you, and bring with him a slightly careless bouquet of wildflowers. It was so sweet. And even though you saw how other residents of the city looked at him, you didn't care. You even gave Thomas various buns and cakes 'just for his beautiful eyes'. It was very confusing for the guy.

• Thomas stood at the counter with his head down, long dark hair covering his face, hiding his bright maroon cheeks. The guy's eyes ran wildly across the floor, feeling his own heart beating loudly in his chest, and his hands nervously fingered the edge of his shirt. You always made him blush, he doesn't know why.

• Before, Thomas, most of the time, didn't care about his appearance, after all, he just went to work. But now, every time Luda sent him to your bakery, Thomas tried to look neat and tidy, he began to take care of his clothes and other things. Now he could be seen with his long hair tied in a low ponytail.

• The guy really liked your baking. When you got closer, you even let him into your kitchen. The man was sitting good on a chair, just watching your gentle movements and enthusiasm for cooking. He was delighted when you gave him a taste of cream or dough. Thomas was also happy to help you if you needed it.

• The man has always been surprised by your passion for cooking. And he also didn't understand how you could cook so beautifully, he had never eaten anything so delicious in his life. If Thomas was the epitome of cruelty and brute force, then you looked like a gentle fairy godmother who always gives warmth and care around.

• When the city eventually emptied, you surprisingly did not want to leave this place. And you've become attached to Thomas. It all happened so fast that you didn't even have time to figure out how it happened. And so, you were already at the Hewitt house, standing in the kitchen, once again cooking some sweet masterpiece, and Thomas was standing behind, gently hugging your waist. He loved your pastries and sweets. But his favorite sweet was you. And although you didn't like their lifestyle, you were happy to brighten up their cruel lives with your sweets. You even sold them in Mrs. Hewitt's shop, which she was very happy about, because they bought your cakes very well.

#slashers x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt #leatherface x you #the leatherface #leatherface x reader

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prettiestlovergirl · 2 months

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hiii!! i love how u write theo and i was wondering if u could do another oral fixation!reader x cold!theo nott (it doesn’t have to be smut ofc, pls do whatever makes u comfortable, even if that means you don’t write this at all!!)

have a great night!

🎀 anon (if that’s not already taken ofc!)

oh, my love, i am sososo happy you asked me for this! idk why i have so much fun with cold! theo but i DO and the fact that you also love him makes me giddy hehe.

this is basically like a continuation of the last one! just a different nickname. (🎀 anon is all yours, babe!) i'm too lazy to add it to everything, bambola means doll! hope this lived up to your expectations. enjoy, my lovely! 𓆩♡𓆪

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; oral fixation! reader; princess! reader; jealousy; light hairpulling; fingering; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); sarcastic banter; ends with some fluff; italian! theodore nott

currently, slytherin house was throwing a massive party in the common room. you guys had won in your game against ravenclaw, so of course you were all celebrating with loud music and an abundance of alcohol.

theo was looking for you. the two of you hadn't gotten a moment alone since the library incident he couldn't stop replaying on a loop in his mind.

wanting you was a bad idea. you were from two different worlds, you were polar opposites, but fuck did he need to have you again more than air.

even in a room full of people, his eyes always found you first. unfortunately (for the other guy) you were in the middle of a dance with some guy from the year above you two.

your face was flushed from dancing, your eyes sparkling with joy and laughter as the guy spun you around. your hair was in a ponytail, and he had the sudden urge to wrap it around his fist and tug you to him.

all it would take is one little tug and you would be all his for the taking, the douchebag with his hands on you didn't stand a fucking chance against him.

theo remained cool and composed, but his eyes? his eyes gave everything away. they showed the jealousy sparking deep within him, one misplaced hand away from starting a fire.

you must have been able to feel the heat of his stare on your skin, because you turned your head around and were instantly met with theo's dark gaze.

your breath hitched and the previous smile on your face was wiped as theo approached, instantly wrapping his arms around you. he made a point to place his hand just above douchebags.

"bambola, you didn't tell me you made a new friend." theo mused, his cool and collected smile masking the jealousy, rage, and sudden desire to snap and beat the shit out of this guy for even looking at you, let alone touching you.

"hey, man, who the fuck are you?" douchebag scoffed, his arms still on you as bodies continued to sway and party around you. "someone who's going to kick your pathetic ass if you don't get out of here in the next five seconds."

douchebag looked like he wanted to argue, but the murderous glint in theo's eyes and the fact that he started lifting his fingers in a countdown finally scared him away.

"what the hell was that?!" you huffed, stepping away from his grasp and placing your hands on your hips. "i really like ethan!" you hissed, noticing the muscle tick in his jaw as you said his name.

"you can do better, bambola. he scared too easy, he's not worth your time." theo said coolly, slight smirk on his face as you rolled your eyes. "oh, because you're better? please-"

"you really think you would have enjoyed yourself with him, bella? you think he would have made your eyes roll the way i did? think his fingers would compare to mine? i can still hear your pretty little whimpers, darling."

a shiver ripped through your body at his words, lips parting in surprise at hearing the normally so calm and proper theodore nott speak such filthy words with ease.

"you've got five minutes to meet me by the stairs, bambola... or i've throw you over my shoulder and drag you up myself." he purred in your ear, his voice low and dark and raspy with desire.

of course, you followed theo out almost immediately. you would have been a fool not to follow him, especially with the way you couldn't help but replay the scene of you two in library every time you closed your eyes.

anticipation fluttered beneath your skin as you and theo walked up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. there was an aching pressure between your thighs as you walked, his hand on the small of your back burning so hot he was practically branding you.

you couldn't take your eyes off him the moment you stepped into the room. you hadn't uttered a word the whole way up, but you didn't have to: you both knew exactly what was going to happen tonight.

theo leaned back against the canopy of his bed, arms crossed as his eyes burned into you. "come here." he finally commanded; voice soft as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms.

you did as told, walking step by step until your bodies nearly collided. "fuck, bambola. you don't know what you do to me." he murmured before finally crashing his lips down onto yours in a rough, deliberate kiss.

his hand fisted your hair, holding you tightly as his teeth tugged at your bottom lip. he shifted a bit, sinking down onto his mattress and helping you straddle him with ease.

he pulled away after a moment, watching the way your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath before he left a trail of hot, fiery kisses down the side of your neck.

you could feel his cock digging into your skin through his boxers, drawing a soft whine out of you as you started to gently grind down against him.

he groaned against your neck, his hand sliding up your inner thigh until it reached your soaked panties. he pressed his palm firmly against your pussy, making you moan out in surprise and need.

"fuck, you're so wet." he groaned, dipping his hand into your panties and pushing two fingers inside your puffy walls. your eyes squeezed shut as you moaned, forehead leaning against his as you relished in the agonizingly delicious stretch.

"theo..." you gasped, mouth falling open as he buried his fingers to the hilt and immediately pressed his thumb against your swollen clit. "fuck, your roommates are gonna come up and see us." you whimpered, sweating beading on your forehead.

"no, they won't, bella." theo hummed, his voice maddeningly calm compared to your breathy whimpers. he brought his free hand up to your lips, pushing his thumb into your open mouth, effectively keeping you from asking more questions.

you rolled your hips down against him, desperate for more as he continued to slowly drag his thumb over your clit while his fingers rubbed against your walls. "need you to fuck me, please." you begged, coating his thumb in your saliva.

"ask me again." he demanded, voice still calm and collected as your tongue swirled around his thumb. "fuck me, theo. i need you to fuck me." you pleaded, opening your eyes to look right at him as he pulled his fingers out of you.

he flipped your positions, pushing you back against the mattress. his fingers made quick work of your clothes, stripping you completely bare for him. he ran his tongue over his lower lip, mouth going dry as he admired just how fucking gorgeous you were.

his gaze was almost predatory as he admired you before leaning down, kissing his way to your chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. he licked and tugged and teased while you squirmed and whimpered underneath him.

one hand gripped your hip tightly, it was definitely going to leave a fresh bruise on your skin but you didn't care. his other hand went down to quickly rid himself of his pants and boxers before lining himself up with you.

"look at me, bambola." he said roughly, waiting until your eyes were back on his. you nearly gasped when you saw him, the theodore nott in front of you was someone you could hardly recognize.

his usually perfect hair was tussled, his sweat making it stick to his forehead, and his eyes were pools of black and desire. "please." you begged, your voice hoarse with desire.

he kept direct eye contact with you as he finally pushed inside of you, inch by torturous fucking inch. it was sweaty and intimate and you'd never wanted this moment to end.

as he bottomed out, your mouth finally opened in a tortured moan. he lifted two fingers back into your mouth as he started to move slowly. you happily swirled your tongue around his fingers, thankful for the feeling as he started to pull back out.

he pulled out all the way until it was just the tip of his cock still inside before thrusting back inside of you. he thrusted deeper, faster, harder, and you wrapped your legs up around his waist to pull him closer.

after that, you could no longer form any thought that wasn't about how good his cock felt pounding into your desperate, soaked pussy. your tongue swirled around his fingers as you moaned and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.

tears streamed down your cheeks as he fucked into you, lips pressing kisses and bites all over your chest while your nails dug into his back. "look at you, bambola. already weeping from how good my cock is fucking your sweet little pussy."

your eyes rolled into the back of your head, the filthy words coming from him practically tipping you over the edge. "fuck, fuck, theo, 'm gonna cum, fuck!" you cried, toes curling as your orgasm crashed into you like a wave.

his controlled, deliberate thrusts quickly grew erratic. he let out a hiss as your nails scraped his skin, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucked into you. he pulled out a few moments later, coating your stomach in his cum.

you laid there while he got a rag to quickly clean you up, letting you stay collapsed and boneless against his sheets. theo being theo, he had to at least put your things in a pile before eventually laying beside you.

your eyes were closed, but you could feel his eyes staring at you intently. you finally opened one eye, staring at him as you yawned. "what?" you asked, biting your kiss-swollen lip.

"nothing, nothing it's just... i think this might be the longest i've ever heard you go without talking." he teased, a smirk on his face as his shoulders shook with laughter.

you wanted to be mad, you really did, but it was so impossibly hard to be mad when you heard him laugh. he was always so composed, so stoic. any time you could crack through his persona was a success in your eyes.

"mean!" you laughed, reaching up to smack his chest. he grabbed your arm before you could hit him and he tugged you in close. he pressed a soft, gentle kiss on the chunk of skin he'd bitten earlier before covering you with a sheet.

"you're mine, bambola, and now that i have you? i'm not letting you go any time soon."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes !#☆ lola's requests !#☆ my lovely 🎀 anon #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #mwah <3

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timidpumpkin · 11 months

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Can I get a reaction when reader want to go to carnival or other fun places and then they got lost and ended up at their own home

Is the reader going to escape or go back to their daddies TYSM🤗

Hiiii🥰🥰🥰💜💜💜. I loved this idea sooo much and it really helped get me out of the writer's block funk I was in! It’s a litttle bit different from what you asked so I hope that’s okay and you still like it!! Thank you so so much, I loved writing this!!~~~~~💖💖💖💖💖

(pictures are not my own)

Helpless (Stucky x reader)

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Warnings/tags: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Female reader, stockholm syndrome, forced age regression, mention of previous kidnapping, reader gets lost, mild injury to reader, Implied reader has small hands in comparison because Stucky is gigantic (fact), Angst, Fluff, Comfort. Reader baby-talks as well, Lots o' cute nicknames (as usual).

Word count: 4.1k

Tagging a few of the absolutely lovely people who have supported me this whole time. I love you and appreciate you all more than i can express. @haleyhunwritess @ppatricia34me @hoplessfussybambi @canyonmooncreations @sapphyslittlenook

P.S. i'm gonna start a tag list so lemme know if you wanna be added <3

It was getting a bit cooler now.

The previously bright day had been overtaken by navy shadows that bring nippy wisps of air that catch on your exposed arms, sending chills throughout you.

“I told you we should have used the long-sleeved one,” Steve remarks to Bucky as he watches you make a tiny shiver.

Bucky rolls his eyes at him, knowing you were the one who insisted on this specific onesie when he dressed you this afternoon. With an eager look on your face, you held it up to him, proudly showing him how it would match perfectly with some leg warmers you found in your drawer. He couldn’t argue with that, not when your giddy smile and sweet eyes looked at him while holding it up as high as you could for him.

“Come here babydoll,” Bucky says, squatting down a bit to get closer to your level.

You don't hear him for a second. Not even your numbed fingertips could distract you from the bright lights that reflect off your eyes. You’ve been watching the multicolored Ferris wheel since you got here. You wanted to go on it so bad.

Thus far, you’ve only been allowed to play the ground games. Though, you can’t complain too much now that you’ve collected quite a load of new stuffies to bring home. You’d like to think yourself pretty talented at these games–maybe too talented.

You’ve all but completely missed the harsh glares Bucky gives the poor workers when they tell you “awh too bad” when you miss the target, but then proceed to hand you whichever stuffed animal or toy you’d been wanting anyway. You’d turn around to your daddies, excitingly showing them your prize and proudly exclaiming “I won! I won!” and Bucky would always tell you how good of a job you did every time.

“Babydoll?” Bucky calls again, bringing you back to reality, his voice sweet, as if he’s teasing you a bit, knowing how much you've enjoyed this outing.

It was a tough call. Bringing you here. They knew how much you wanted to go. Ever since Peter babbled on and on about his trip to the carnival at his birthday party a few months ago, you’ve been begging them ever since. It’s not that they didn't want to take you. It could never be that. They just weren’t sure if it would be safe…

“There’s all kinds of creeps at those things!” Steve argues to Bucky, turning around as if that’s the last word and final say about it.

“I know. I know. But…she really wants to go. Plus…it’s not like we’ll ever let her out of our sight.” Bucky tries to reason, knowing it was something they would enjoy too. He has several fond memories of dragging Steve along with him through the bustling crowds of people just so he could play–and win–all the games he could, always asking Steve which prize he wanted before promising him he’d win it on the first try. Long before he knew of what true cruelties lived beyond their hometown, Bucky had already mastered the art of staring down unfair showmen who would poke fun at Steve’s then narrower figure.

Bucky just couldn’t help the almost giddy feeling he got just at the idea of holding you up high while you throw one of those balls with all your might to win some oversized stuffed animal that you’d undoubtedly insist on carrying on your own despite it being twice your height.

“We could even get one of those leash things,” he suggests, the idea popping into his mind like it’s the most brilliant thing, remembering how he showed the leashed froggy backpack he saw a while ago to Steve.

“It’s not just that,” Steve admits, brows furrowed as he sits on the edge of the bed, a sad and worried look overtaking his features that makes Bucky want to cave to anything he’d ask. “what if…” he trails off, not meeting Bucky’s gaze, “what if…she tries to run off?” he says quietly as if the fear itself would be brought to life if he spoke it too loudly.

It had been a long while since you tried to run away. All things considered, you seemed to be fully adjusted now. Every so often you would act up, but only in the way that all little girls would every now and then. They would always punish you appropriately, the way all good daddies would, reminding you that your life with them is your life, and that the horrid life you had before you was one never meant for a sweet innocent little girl like you.

They saved you. Steve routinely reminded you as such, but he didn’t have to. Bucky could tell you knew it was true now just by the way your bright eyes greeted them every morning. You knew that you were only good and safe with them to take care of you. His little girl couldn't even function without them now. It was exactly how it was supposed to be.

Bucky thinks for a moment, walking closer to Steve and kneeling on the floor in front of him. He pushes his way into him, maneuvering himself between Steve’s legs, and scoops his distressed hands into his, kissing them both before looking back up to Steve.

“She won’t.” he says, thick air questioning if it's true.

But his words say more than just that. The meaningful look in Bucky’s eyes tell Steve that no matter what, they’ll always have you. And that there was no way you could get away from them. Bucky knew it wasn't just the fear of physically losing you, but the fear of hurt that they would feel if you even tried.

Steve smiles a bit, his hands pulling Bucky up so that he’s now standing between his legs. He takes his hands, sliding them down from Bucky’s sides to his hips where they rest for the moment.

“Alright,” Steve sighs, looking up to Bucky, and pulling him a bit closer by his belt loops, “but any sign of trouble, we leave” Steve states, seriousness in his tone, the same kind of voice he uses when they’re on missions together.

“As if it would be any other way.” Bucky remarks, a smirk teasing his face as he dips his head down a bit to meet his lips with Steve’s. Steve sighs into his kiss, feeling the tension leaving his body just by Bucky’s stable words and secure presence.

“You think too much Rogers” Bucky teases after breaking from the kiss, thinking of all the times Steve would try to worm his way out of Bucky having to go on a mission with him in fear of his partner getting hurt–whether it be mentally or physically–Steve couldn't bare the thought of having to see Bucky like he was when he saw him for the first time in this new world.

“Can’t help it,” he breathes, Bucky never ceasing to take his breath away from his all-encompassing kisses. “I love you two more than anything,” he says earnestly as if it’s the only known fact in the universe.

“I know” Bucky smiles, “I know.”

“Oh-sorry Daddy!” you turn around, not meaning to ignore him. He holds out a sweatshirt and you instinctively hold up your arms so he can help put it on you. “Did you see the Ferris wheel Daddy?” you ask excitingly for the third time that night. Bucky chuckles a bit.

“Yes, I did,” he answers as if it’s the first he’s hearing about it while putting some soft-knitted mittens he had in his pocket on your hands. “M’not sure if Dada heard though,” he whispers to you, “maybe you should go tell him,” he informs you with a wink.

You hurriedly run over to Steve, jumping in place over and over again in front of him.

“Dada! Dada!” you take his hand and drag him a bit closer to where you had the best view of the colorful wheel. “Look!” you point and turn to him with an excited expression. “Can we go? Please? Pretty please? Please please please please-” you babble over and over again while continuing to jump up and down until you’ve all but run out of air in your lungs.

Steve looks at the contraption suspiciously, not trusting of the achy-sounding metal, and certainly not wanting his little girl near anything dangerous. He catches a glimpse of Bucky though, who’s contagiously smiling at you both, and remembers how often Bucky tells him not to worry so much.

“Okay-okay” Steve caves, unable to help but smile at your hyper manner right now. “Just this once, then we can go home and get you all nice and warm” he teasingly pinches at your cold cheeks.

“Yayayay!” you literally scream out, not even caring one bit that he said it was only once or that you had to go home after this. You were more than overjoyed that you got to ride it at all.

You start to make a sprint for it, only getting a few feet when resistance yanks you back, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to steady yourself from the unexpected halt in momentum. Steve hadn’t even pulled on the backpack at all, it was just your pure running and his not moving an inch that caused you to ricochet back a bit. It’s a wonder you didn't fall flat on your behind.

“Heh-sorry!” you sheepishly laugh it off and wait patiently for them to catch up with you in basically two full steps for them.

As you make the short walk to the diminishing line in the late hour, Steve stops to tie his shoe, occupying both of his hands. You swing your arms aimlessly around waiting for him to finish while looking around.

As you mindlessly scan the area around you, your head does a double take as you recognize something.

No–someone.

You watch the stranger in confusion until the remnants of memory come back to you. It was a friend. But this person wasn’t Peter or Wanda…no. It was a friend from…before.

It disorients you, confusion washing over you and placing a pit in your stomach as your life before now was mostly forgotten and placed in a dusty cardboard box in the back of your mind’s vaults.

You watch as they walk away, towards where you know leads to the parking lot. And as if something takes over you, you start following their footsteps, unhinderedly drifting away from where Steve and Bucky are.

As you mindlessly follow, several feet behind, memories of your past life replay in your mind. They playback in black and white as if you’re watching one of those really old movies Steve likes to show you sometimes.

Then you hazily remember when they first found you…took you. Emotions of how scared and confused you were overtake your mind. You remember how they kept you in the house, never letting you leave.

“Sily girl, Dada can’t kidnap what’s already his,” Steve would tell you every time you’d harshly accuse him of kidnapping you.

“No one can protect you like we can,” Bucky would shush you after one of his punishments when you had pushed too hard. “Daddy only does this ‘cause he loves you.” he’d brush over your already bruising skin before carefully wiping away the tears that he had ignored for hours before.

Some nights you’d wake from nightmares, the specifics of it not mattering when Steve would find you crying into your stuffie. He never hesitated to pick you up and let you weep into his shoulder. Always whispering that you were okay, that you were safe.

“It’s okay angel, Dada’s here. You’re safe with me. I’ll always keep you safe. Always.” he’d repeat to you sincerely, holding onto you so tightly, as if the slightest loosening of his grip meant the very air around him would harm you.

To him though, it was true. Nothing could hurt you as long as you were in his arms. He’d carry you downstairs, where Bucky would tell you that nightmares didn’t matter “‘cause they aren’t real, doll…not like me and Dada.” he’d caress your warm cheeks while Steve fetched you some cold milk. They’d stay up with you as long as you needed, not even daring to shut an eye until you felt safe enough to sleep again.

And truthfully…you did. You did feel safe.

Maybe it was strange…the way you sought their comfort…their touch…their love, when you fought it in the beginning.

And you did fight…hard.

But every retaliation you made only ended in harsh grabs. Every effort to push them away resulted in lacerated reminders. Every moment you spent denying what they told you only yielded unrestrained punishments.

“My sweet girl…you’ll learn soon enough. Fighting us only makes it harder for you.” Steve would stroke your cheek through the bars of your crib. “All you have to do is listen to what we say. We know what’s best for you, angel.” he’d say before leaving you all tied up and alone for hours…sometimes days.

And then, after you’d more than cried yourself dry, throat scratchy from lack of hydration, he’d appear to you, asking if you’d learned your lesson. Your body would somehow discover new tears as you’d plead with him, promising him you’d be a good girl.

It’s then that he’d smile down at you so sweetly, lifting your limp body from its cushiony cage and shower you with endless affection.

He’d drown you with attention, never allowing you to lift a finger. He’d clean you up with your favorite scented soap, and after you were all done, Bucky would present you with a new set of soft clothes they bought just for you for taking your punishment so so well. They’d play your favorite shows and message every sore spot on your tired body after ordering from your favorite type of take out, something you never even told them. There wasn’t a moment where they weren’t touching you in some way, dousing you with sweet words about how much they loved their beautiful helpless little girl.

Helpless.

A word that reminds you exactly how you felt the very first time you bumped into Steve. All alone and scared, in a place that was dark and unfamiliar. You were lost then.

Just like you were right now.

You practically snap back into reality, the one where you’ve found yourself far away from the luminous festival lights and eerily close to where you can’t hear racket of activities anymore. It’s quiet, and you don’t even know where that funnily familiar person you were following went. Dread fills your insides as you realize you’re all alone.

You turn around hastily,

Anxiety fills your stomach as you rashly run in the opposite direction, before tripping on a wire that sends you spiraling down to the ground. You clumsily try to catch yourself, mittened hands harshly hitting the pavement, and asphalt slashes through your leggings, exposing the soft flesh of your knees to razor-sharp pain.

The sudden impact scares you, tears that were already forming from before start rushing out of your eyes.

Instinctually, you cry for Steve. For Dada. But when after too many moments you don’t feel their comfort, you look around and remember they’re not there. Your heart pounds as people rush by seemingly unaffected by your fallen form. You swirl your head around looking for them and are instead met with the haunting image of your green leash’s end, its ghostly emptiness scorning you from where it lays.

You cry harder, guilt and anguish now thumping alongside the throbbing in your chest that radiates to your body’s wounded limbs and you're pretty sure the only words coming out of your mouth are pathetic strings of ‘daddy’ and ‘dada.’

“There she is” Bucky spots you, both of them rushing over to you, distraught as they notice your scraped-up form.

“Dada!” you cry, leaping towards Steve and wrapping your arms around his neck as he picks you up. You helplessly weep, not just from the physical pain but from the emotional strain your misplaced detour took you on. You cry for leaving them. You can't tell if it was on purpose, but you feel awful from even remembering your past life and getting so close to being lost.

“Fuck, angel. What happened?” Steve breathes, taking the scuffed mittens off your hands to examine you closer.

“I-...I-” you try to speak through gasps of crying. They both question you on where you went and why you walked away. You barely manage to tell the story in broken sobs as to what truthfully happened. They listen intensively as you tearfully explain the details of what happened.

“But-but-I-I don’t wanna! Don’t wanna lose daddies! Don’t wanna! Didn’t mean t-to! I-I p-promise-I-I didn’t!” you stagger between breaths, gasping for air as your sob relentlessly in Steve’s arms.

“Shh, hey-hey” Bucky caresses your head, directing your attention to him. “It’s okay, doll. It’s okay. You’re okay.” he consoles. Steve gently wipes your tears at the same time and helps in calming you. You look at them both through blurry vision and continue weeping apologies to which they both remind you that it’s okay.

They were scared to death when they only took their eyes off you for a second and you were gone…but they found you, just like the first time.

They bring you over to sit down on a bench so they can better help console you and check your injuries. Steve rummages through the backpack he was carrying to get a first aid kit, and Bukcy watches through tortured eyes as you miserably cry.

“Doll.” he tenderly tilts your chin up to him. Tearful eyes red from crying look up to him. “Daddy’s proud of you.” he states, earnestly, stern and true. It makes you cry harder though, with confusion written all over your face. Proud? How could he be proud when you almost thought about running away?

“W-why?” you cry “I-I bad. bad!” you weep pitifully as you feel Steve cleaning your knees.

“No angel. You’re not bad.” Steve states, only confusing you more, you were sure both of them would be upset with you…considering they had every reason to.

“You know why?” Bucky asks, stroking your previously cold cheeks that have now been warmed by your tears. You shake your head no as more seemingly endless tears fall. “‘Cause you came back,” he says, wiping them as they come. “You came back to find us. That’s all that matters.” Bucky reassures you.

It hurts, both his and Steve’s worst fear almost coming to life.

But it didn't.

And truthfully, no one understood that more than Bucky. He knew more than anyone what it was like to get confused. To see or hear something otherwise mundane that whips you back to a place where you feel out of control.

The story you recanted to them rings all too familiar to him. It reminds him of shaky hands and paralyzed tongue that attempted to explain to Steve what it was like to not be in control of your own body. Your own actions.

It didn’t matter that you wandered away. It didn’t matter where your thoughts went. All that mattered was that you cried for them. All that mattered was your tiny hands curled around Steve's shirt so hard he’d thought you’d hurt your own fingers. All that mattered was the way you pulled Bucky closer while weeping his name as he comforted you.

All that mattered…was that you needed your Daddies.

They both reassure as such in ways they knew you'd understand. Besides, it only made sense that their little girl would get confused sometimes. That’s what daddies are for. And you came back because you knew they always made the best decisions for you. And even if on the off chance that you hadn't…that really wouldn’t have mattered anyway either. They would always find their little girl because you belong with them. Always and forever.

“Which ones do you want little princess?” Steve asks you, offering a variety of colorful bandages in front of you. Your hysteria and their sweet strong words have all but distracted you from the pain of the scratches lacerating your knees. You point to the ones you like and Steve praises you for making “such a good choice babygirl.”

Bucky holds you close and lets you bury your head in his chest while Steve carefully puts them on. You feel guilt again when you notice that the soft mittens now have little scuffs and holes in them that match your pants. But Steve reassures you that it’s ‘no biggie’ and that they can always get you another pair.

“How about Daddy and I get you some ice cream?” Steve suggests, knowing sweets was at least one way to cheer his sweet girl up.

You sniffle, looking to him at the suggestion.

“Ice cweam?” you say with a small voice “I-I wike ice cweam” you say softly, not meaning to slur your words. But you never did anyway, it always just happened beyond your control.

“I think that sounds perfect, huh doll?” Bucky says lightheartedly and sweetly while picking you up from the bench and placing you in Steve's arms.

“Wif sprinkles toos?” you ask, rubbing your sore eyes.

“All the sprinkles for my sweet little girl” Steve smiles at you while playfully poking at your side making you giggle a bit.

The cold dessert cools your hot throat and brings a smile back to your face. Of course, what really made you happy was knowing your daddies weren’t upset with you, and even more importantly, that you were never going to lose them.

“Hey what’s that on Dada’s face?” Bucky points directly to Steve, making you turn to examine it closely as you're still in his arms. It gives Bucky the opportunity to steal a lick from your ice cream.

“Hey!” you laugh turning back to Bucky’s not-so-secret move when you realize there was nothing amiss on your Dada’s face.

“What?” he puts his hands and shoulders up in a shrug of confusion while looking around and feigning confusion. You giggle more as obvious signs of ice cream are on the tip of his nose.

“Looks like daddy’s the one with something on his face” Steve teases, and you laugh with them while they let you finish your little treat.

“You still wanna go up on the Ferris wheel babygirl?” Steve asks after wiping your hands clean from any sticky residue. You look up to him with awe and shock, not expecting him to still offer it.

“Really?” you question with a hopeful but weary look on your face from not being sure of why you deserve it. Steve nods at you and tells you yes. Maybe he was skeptical before, but nothing was better than seeing his little girl's face light up in a smile.

Plus, Steve knew you were their little girl. More than that, he knew that you knew. In your heart, you came back to them. You needed them. And that’s all Steve could ever want.

You’re squeezed between your two daddies as the wheel makes its way up to the top. They watch as you look in awe of how tiny everything looks from up above. This must be what it's like for your daddies to see all the time. You feel as though you’re at the tippity top of the wheel forever. You don’t mind as it’s beautiful and quiet up there with the only people in the world you wanted to be with. You tiredly lay your head against Steve's arm, signaling to him that you’ll likely sleep the whole drive home.

“I love you,” you say contently, and they know you say it for both of them.

“We love you too angel. So much,” Steve tells you, smiling down at his sleepy little girl, and looking up to see Bucky’s lightened up face too.

He takes it all in, remembering the times when just he and Bucky would go out to these things–or really–when Bukcy would drag him to the carnivals. He knew how much Bucky loved this. He knew how much you loved this. And he loved it too. He loved you both, and that was all he needed.

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oddballwriter · 4 months

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Reader fangirling over moon knight not knowing it was steven/marc/Jake? 🎃

Under Your Nose

Warnings: Not much other than the moon boys lying to you and keeping a secret from you. Also the idea of walking alone at night while drunk.

Author’s Snip: I am so sorry, I literally forgot that this was in my inbox. Sorry for the long wait.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 764

They found it kind of funny. In a sense. You had no idea that the vigilante that you've been fixating on is actually your boyfriends. You didn't live with them so you wouldn't know that them leaving for something was actually them going on a mission. It also kept you from connecting the dots that whenever they leave, Moon Knight's out and about.

They liked to hear your praise. In a way, you not knowing that it's them made your positive comments more genuine because, to you, Moon Knight was just a crime fighter that you would hear about, and so the influence of them being your boyfriends didn't make way for a bias. There were, however, sometimes there were cases where they barely managed to keep the secret.

One night, there was a gang that the boys had to take care of that put up more of a fight than they thought they would and left the system sore from having to fight back and defend. When the next day came, Steven, who was fronting at the time, decided to pay you a visit. But you were able to tell that he was stiff. When you asked, Steven threw the explanation that Jake was fronting last night and he had done an intense workout. You took it and so it was left at that. "Well, then how about we lay down and watch something so you can feel better, yeah?" you recommend. Steven just nodded with a smile,

Next came the time that you had gone out with friends to a bar and had more drinks than you usually do. You decided to walk to the boys' flat since you were not sober and didn't have a ride, and it was closer to the bar than your place. Maybe you should have texted them as a heads-up to your sudden arrival, but by the time you thought of that you were already going up in the elevator.

When you knocked, there wasn't an answer. Maybe they were asleep, it was pretty late after all. After remembering that they had given you a spare key, you unlock it and let yourself in, trying to be as quiet as you can. But looking around, no one was even home. You figured that maybe Jake was cabbing around town or Marc was on a late-night walk. With that idea in mind, you shot them a text telling them that you were at their place and why before taking a quick shower. changing into some clothes you had there, and promptly falling asleep in their bed.

Marc was there in the morning making you some breakfast. He of course, just confirmed that he was out for a stroll around the block because he couldn't sleep, even though he was patrolling. If anything he seemed more concerned that you walked there alone drunk in the dead of night. "I'm fine. It was just a ten-minute walk here." you shrug off. "Still, I don't like the idea of you walking alone like that when it's dark out." Marc said. "I'm surprised we didn't run into each other to be honest." you remark.

And then there was Jake. He had to deal with getting information out of someone and he figured that the best way was the old 'talk in a chair' way. But as it turns out, that guy was more of a hassle than he thought too. He put up a good fight and actually got him good with a punch to the face that damaged his nose. But they always, lose when it's Jake so he got his way in the end. But when you came over the next day, again, you say the bandage and got worried. "It's nothing, beba. I had this guy in my cab. He was drunk off his ass and being a pain. When I looked at him to tell him to knock it off he socked me in the nose." Jake lied. He could still see the concern on your face as to gently touched his bandage. "I'll be fine." he said as he kissed you on the forehead.

It's not that the boys want to keep lying to you. If anything all three hate it. But they feel this air of worry when thinking about you knowing too. They know it's dumb. And they know that they can't keep up the secret for long since they want you to be in their lives. But they just need to think of how to bring it up to you at some point.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader

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oldstateofmind · 11 months

Text

nobody else can heal it (but you) [part l]

➜ pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader ➜ warnings: spoilers from ATSV, a bit of angst cause i’m human, violence, torture, hanahaki disease but make it nightmares instead. english is not my first language. ➜ words: 4.3k ➜ a/n: I’ve watched this movie 3 times by now because I’m obsessed with Miguel. His character is so interesting and captivating, he’s so grumpy and sad and that just makes me wanna fix him. Ugh, I have a soft spot for anti-heroes. And being voiced by Oscar Isaac is the icing on the cake. This first part sets the tone because I just can’t jump straight to smut, but I promise I’ll compensate next chapter.

chapter l. bad disease

For too long, you've been yearning for Miguel; only to be trapped in an endless nightmare. While awake, you had to live with the fact that he was out of reach – tearing your soul apart. While sleeping, violence and death had his face – tearing your whole being apart. No matter when or where; you were maimed by the same man.

Ao3

It starts with a hiss; then a shadow moving in the corner of your vision.

In the dark, cold envelops your body; chilling to the bone. It’s awfully quiet besides the continuous dripping of water in the distance, the echoes of each drop remind you of a ticking clock; counting the time you’ve left – for what, however, you’re not really sure.

You rub your arms in an attempt to bring a bit of warmth back to your skin, and as always, it’s useless. It seems like a forever winter inside the place you’ve found yourself in for the past 2 weeks.

What once started as a nightmare that made you wake up in the middle of the night, now plagues your mind every time you close your eyes. There’s no escape from it, no matter how hard you try. You’re more than tired, it’s exhausting not getting more than 3 hours of sleep when your job requires attention and disposition.

Even the pills Lyla gave you last time you were at the HQ didn’t work – actually, they made it even worse. Because then, your body was completely knocked out while your mind was terribly awake, reliving the scene over and over again. You threw them down the drain once you woke up. Never again.

And even though you already know what happens by now, it is still dreadful to wait for the nightmare to unfound. Your senses are hyper-aware of every single tiny sound, every movement in the dark.

There’s something poetic in the way you can feel him move even with your eyes closed; the way you could recognize the pattern of his breathing in the distance even when fear creeps into your brain. Your spider-sense tingles as his heavy steps are headed toward you, it screams danger. Goosebumps break out across your body, sending a small, cold shiver through your spine.

Red is the first thing you see. And also the last.

“...to Y/N.” Someone is calling you in the distance, but the hazy feeling of the nightmare still lingers within you. It’s hard to focus when your brain still hasn’t turned off properly for weeks, still trapped in whatever curse this is.

“Earth to Y/N, is anyone there?” There’s a snap in front of your eyes, and you suddenly flinch with the unexpected sound. The touch on your shoulder grounds you a bit.

You blink your eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to brush off the dreadful feeling still creeping into the back of your mind. As your eyes adjust to reality, Gwen’s face is filled with concern.

“I’m sorry, guys.” It’s the only thing you manage to say, how could you possibly begin to explain what’s been happening?

“You’ve lost your cue twice now, what’s happening with you today?” The girl presses, still holding onto your shoulder. And for that, you’re grateful.

Not getting enough sleep has been causing you to lose grip on reality – and that scares you the most. Not being able to tell if the sounds are coming from your head or from somewhere else. Or worse, having to avoid him because it’s unbearable the feeling that eats you from the inside out; the sense of fight or flight kicking in every time you hear his voice. Not tolerating being in his company as shadows follow you around like a ghost, tormenting you into remembering.

And it’s just not fair.

“Nothing!” You say, adjusting the bass strap on your shoulder. Hesitating on letting you go, Gwen squeezes your arm before retracting her hand. You try to smile, “I’m good. I…I’m good.”

The smile stretched for too long, awkwardly pulling your face into a grin rather than a genuine beam. The avoidance of looking at the member of the band doesn’t really back you up on your lies. You hear Hobie huff in annoyance, while Gwen’s piercing gaze still hasn’t left your face. You feel slightly guilty about keeping your nightmares a secret, but it’s not like they would understand, would they?

After all, Miguel O’Hara was a difficult subject for you to talk about.

“I know that look, I have seen it in the mirror quite a few times,” The girl admits. And you knew it was true.

When Gwen joined the Spider Society just a few months ago, the melancholy gloom that followed her was palpable. The teary eyes whenever someone asked about her life, the avoidance of returning to her world, always crashing at yours or Hobie’s. Her father was a tough subject on which she never really dwelled, too painful to remember.

However, even if she could relate to the feeling of losing sleep over someone, she wouldn’t understand how it felt to be torn apart by your own brain, to have precious memories distorted in a sick and twisted nightmare that was a culmination of your worst fears. To know it was coming and having no power to stop it. And all the while having the face of the person you cared about the most in the world, in all universes.

No, no one could begin to understand.

You bit your lips, signing in defeat, “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“That’s rubbish. Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?” Hobie chimes in, crossing his arms over his chest. He raises his eyebrow, seeing through your facade without breaking a sweat.

“You’re not even glowing like you usually do!” Pavitr shouts from the audience, waving his hand toward you. Sometimes he would come by to watch the band practice, but today you had not even seen him coming, which was a terrible sign because Pavitr always made an entrance when he stopped by.

“I thought you would be grateful for that.” You scoff.

“Hey, you can’t blame me! My eyes are sensitive.”

The typical headache starts to pound in your head like a thousand bells ringing directly in your ear. It’s disorientating the way your senses feel out of place – like a fish out of the water. Not even having superpowers was helping you stay afloat.

You took pride in being a Spider Woman, doing your job as best as you could so that at the end of the day, Miguel would see you. Your talent, your dedication. But lately, you feel yourself falling further down in his list. And it hurts.

“It’s just that–” You sigh, rubbing your eyes again, foolishly trying to make the pain go away. The ache in your head was bad, but the one in your heart could bring you to your knees. “I’m not getting much sleep these last few weeks.”

Gwen snaps her fingers excitedly, “You should try one of those pills they hand over at the–”

“No!” You shout before you can stop yourself; memories flood your troubled mind. The blood, the screams. Talons ripping flesh, pain consuming your body and soul. But the worst of all; his words. Gwen stops in her tracks, caught off guard by your sudden outburst. The guilty eat you away.

“I mean, I–I’ve tried it,” You whisper, the lump forming in your throat makes it hard to say a single word, “but they… didn’t work for me.”

The trembling of your hands caught everyone’s attention. And It’s just too much.

“I’m sorry.” Whispering, you turn around to hide your face. You take the bass strap from your shoulder and place the instrument in its case. “Let’s just wrap this up, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”

“Oi, Y/N,” Hobie calls for you, but you’re already grabbing your coat and heading toward the door. “We are here to help you, it’s what a band is about, innit?”

You look over your shoulder at them, heart aching at the thought of leaving them with no explanation – as a frightened animal, cornered with nowhere to run, all bite and no apologies.

“Right,” You agree but vanish in thin air seconds later.

ll.

Time becomes its own entity when you lose track of it. It’s another late hour, probably somewhere between 3 AM, and the coffee you got from your favorite spot in town is hot against your cold fingers. You dangle your feet at the edge of a building, admiring the view of a sleepy neighbor – no matter the time, New York is always full of light.

It’s been a few days since you left the rehearsal in a hurry, the band has been trying to get in touch with you but you’ve been avoiding taking their calls and answering their texts – you’ve been avoiding a lot of things lately.

Like swinging in the middle of the traffic, as an example. Something that came naturally, but now it has become too dangerous. The notion of space and distance have been lost days ago together with the full awareness of your surroundings. You’ve been trying to do your job, but it has become almost impossible to pay attention to your movements when the heaviness of your limbs begs for you to slow down.

There’s also Lyla, who you've lost count of how many times she chimed in while you were working, telling you about a meeting that you had missed out on. Not that it was totally required to be there, but if once you counted the days to be in the same room as Miguel, just so you could see him, now you avoided it like the plague.

You haven’t heard from him ever since you disappeared – only stopping by the HQ when extremely necessary – so you might not be in that much trouble. However, it definitely did some heavy damage to your heart noticing how O’Hara didn’t really need or wanted to see you in the first place. Not even a call, not even a message.

And that was devastating.

Blowing out your coffee, you sigh. The lack of sleep has been taking a toll on you. It started off as simply missing the timing from one building to another, and now you can feel the nasty bruise forming on the side of your hip. Actually, your body now looks like it has been painted black and blue with the number of bruises it’s collecting.

And you still can’t find the answer, nor any clue on how to make them go away. It will kill you eventually, you’re sure of that. It was just a matter of time now. Maybe then you could finally rest.

The bitter taste of the coffee spreads in your tongue and you welcome the caffeine with open arms. You’ve been trying to stay awake for the most part of the day, only hitting the bed when you’re completely and absolutely worn out. It does give you a few more minutes, but as the sun comes down and another moon appears, you can feel yourself slipping away, getting fewer and fewer hours of sleep, and slowly descending to madness as the nightmares start to feel more vivid, clouding your judgment.

Maybe you should ask for help, after all.

As a result of a very slow mind, it takes you more than it should to sense a new presence on the rooftop with you. Startled, the hair on the back of your neck stands up. You quickly throw away the coffee, lamenting not being able to finish it.

You pull your mask down; if it was another one of those villains of the week the guy was fucked because you had run out of patience. “Honestly, I’m in a really bad mood today,” You say to whoever is hiding in the shadows, your senses tingling as the figure slowly walks towards you, “No tricks, please. Let’s do this quickly.”

The movement stops, and you roll your eyes in annoyance. Another guy who thinks that making a scary little entrance will impress you. You’re about to make a joke when the shadow speaks, making your heart stop for a second.

“Y/N.”

The cold creeps in underneath the flesh, freezing your blood and yourself in place. All the hair in your body stands up as your body tenses with trepidation and fear. There it was again, that voice that haunts you night and day.

No, please. I’m awake, aren't I?”

It was hard to tell, as your surrounding started to blur; the sound of the street and surroundings go silent, as the only focus of your mind is the man in front of you and the way his eyes glow scarlet against the dark of the night. Your heart hammers your chest so furiously you’re afraid it might break free.

“Y/N.”

Miguel calls out for you again, his tone nothing more than a whisper. But you have seen this scene before; a hundred times you’ve heard those same words roll out of his tongue as if it disgusted him – as if you didn’t deserve to be mentioned it.

You flinch as he steps forward, memories of talons ripping your skin apart make you fight against the rising panic; the outcome of the nightmare is inevitable, you’ve tried to change it, but the aftermath was always the same; killed by the man you loved the most.

“Stay away from me,” You warned him. It was useless when fate seemed to have your lines already written, with no chance to change the full stop by a coma. “Please, stay away from me.”

Miguel stops, the glowing of his suit hurts your eyes. You can’t see his expression, there’s a dark shadow covering his face, but the red tint gives his demeanor a haunting feeling – another shiver runs down your spine. Your vision starts to blur; the fine line between reality and dreamland crashes together in your mind. Nothing feels real, the foggy state of mind wraps around you, gradually taking over your sanity.

So you flee. Or at least you try.

Before you could jump from the building, Miguel’s strong hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you directly in his direction. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and quickly you are able to untangle yourself from his grip, kicking him in the process.

“Y/N.” You know it’s his voice, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like it. It’s disconnected from the man you’ve grown to love. Dread gnawed at your insides as the nightmare turns into another torture section. His mouth is moving but you can’t make up the words; every sound gets lost in the loud rush of blood in your ears.

Not that you need it, anyway. You’ve been living the same dialogue over and over again to know like the back of your hand.

“Don’t hurt me again,” You plea, raw panic in your voice. Your mind is erratic, coming up with ideas on how to escape, but your body doesn’t follow the same line of thinking, “Please, I’m so tired.”

But it’s all in vain; the man bolts in your direction like an animal ready to devour its prey. You find yourself half mad with terror – your throat tightens as anxiety eclipsed your thoughts.

Before Miguel can get to you, you attack.

It never works as the man is way above your abilities, but you try – anything to be freed from having another slow, painful death. Gathering the last of your strength, you shoot a web that miraculously lands on his foot and it sticks to the ground. Quickly, you jump from one wall to another, landing a kick on his chest.

It doesn’t do anything more than startle the man, but it gives you enough time to soar across the night sky, landing on another rooftop. The glowing of your watch catches your attention. Usually, you don’t have it with you, nightmares don’t really give you the option to flee.

But it seems this one does.

“Y/N!” Miguel roars. In the slip second your eyes had darted toward the gadget, the man had torn apart the single web holding him in place. He huffs, shoulders hunched forward as tension grows between you both.

Against your better judgment, you shot him a glance. And like magnets, his eyes find yours in mi the sea of lights that only New York could offer.

You press the bottom, eyes fixed on the man coming towards you like a bolt. His talons cut the air in front of your eyes – almost like a kiss – the petrifying realization makes you fall on your back towards the portal.

Then everything turns black.

lll.

When you open your eyes again, you’re absolutely and awfully exhausted. The weight of your body holds you down against the cold floor, almost as if it didn’t belong to you anymore. You had lost ownership after not taking care of it. Your eyelids are heavy, and for a moment you consider just going back to sleep, finally giving in to the sweet taste of relief.

But then, the warnings in the back of your mind start to go off, and you remember why you can’t. Grunting, you take off your mask and pick yourself up. There was no rest for you, not until you find out what the hell happened. And if it was all in your mind, of if Miguel was there.

Because that definitely didn’t feel like a dream. The phantom feeling of his fingers wrapped around your wrist still lingered, and the intensity of his gaze still made you shrink. A chill runs down your spine in trepidation. If he was really there were the nightmares just a premonition of the future?

No. Miguel would never do that.

Even though he didn’t… like you as you liked him, the man didn’t have a single motive to want you dead. Miguel was many things, but mostly he was righteous. Dedicated to his job in an unhealthy, and obsessive way? Yes. However, he still had kindness hidden underneath his scowl, and even though his heart was mostly painted black by the loss of his old life, it still beat for the new ones the Spider Society protected. Besides, he still had some humor in him; a completely dated and cringe type of humor, but there.

And every time it made an appearance, you would find it adorable. A tiny smile appears on your lips. How could you not treasure every moment with him when it was all so rare?

“Y/N?” Someone calls for you in the distance. You are still picking yourself up from the floor, the sudden movement makes you dizzy, and nauseous. You’re pretty sure you hit your head.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” Margo comes into view, she quickly puts one of your arms around her neck and helps you get up. “You look terrible.”

“You should see the other guy,” You try joking around. And even though the blue avatar softly huffs, her expression of concern is serious. You must look worse than you thought.

Margo helps you get into a chair, gently holding you until you’re comfortable in your seat. “I’m sorry for barging in, I honestly didn’t know where I was going.”

“Where you running from something?” She jokingly asks. She grabs a tablet, reads something on the screen, and goes back to work.

“Yeah,” You groan, running your hand through your hair, “You could say that.”

The room was as quiet as it always was, the only sound coming from the girl who was softly humming a song. Looking around, you notice there was no one around, only the machines as a company. You wondered if Margo ever feel lonely here; the place was big enough to fit a few dozen Spiders, however, it was always deserted. The truth was that no one actually liked to be around villains after they were captured, and sending them home was a dreadful job. Margo was definitely a viable asset to the team.

You can feel your senses start to relax, the darkroom was a perfect invitation for a well-deserved rest. But with the sleepiness came the loss of concentration, and the last time you let your guard down, you fled from a very real Miguel.

Small talk would be, then. “So… who’s next?”

Margo picks up her tablet, tapping a few things before showing you a picture. “She calls herself 'Torment'. But you’re probably familiar with her. After all, you and Hobie caught her a few weeks ago.”

Wait. A few weeks ago? That's exactly the time when the nightmares started to occur.

Suddenly, a flashback hits you like a bullet. A purple and blue cloud, the touch of a finger. The laugh.

“Margo, I need to talk to her,” You demand, getting up from your chair as if you had been electrified. The pieces fall into place and make a clear picture. How could you have let this fly over your head? Of course, the nightmares weren’t something normal! It had to be a product of something, or someone.

“Y/N, I need to send her ho–”

“It’s urgent,” Holding the girl’s hand in yours, you squeeze them in a silent plea, “Please, Margo. Just give me 5 minutes.”

Margo presses her lips together; you must look desperate because she sighs, defeated. Then nods, “Make it quick.”

“Thank you.”

The Send Home Machine had come out of its cocoon, and now sat atop a circular base; waiting for the command to start the process of pulling the strings to weave the portal back home. You always thought the whole mechanism was a bit too much, but if it worked, then who were you to complain?

Margo brings Torment in, and she immediately recognizes you.

“Oh, I knew I would see you again!” The woman’s face lights up like a Christmas tree – that couldn't be a good sign. She claps her hands, bouncing on her feet. “Looking for answers, darling?”

A cold shiver runs down your spine, but it’s not fear that spreads through your veins. It’s anger. “What did you do to me?”

The woman laughs, throwing her head back. You can clearly see she was having too much fun with you. “Now you’re interested in what I’ve to say? You didn’t seem that excited when I first came to you and your little friend.”

Your blood boils. If she wasn’t already locked up and ready to be sent home, you would definitely teach her a lesson or two. Your knuckles go white as the woman stares, the smile on her face is disturbing. How could she find pleasure in tormenting someone like that?

The sound of the engine turning startles you, Margo sends you an apologetic look as the machine descends from its place atop the base. You’re getting out of time.

“What do you want?” You shout, desperate. You can’t imagine going another week, another day haunted like this. “Tell me!”

Torment’s stare is piercing, a shadow crosses her face when the smile fades into a thin line. The silence was agonizing, and with each tread of the web, you felt your sanity slipping away. This was your last chance.

“I’m so fucking tired!” You cry out, hitting the glass so hard it almost cracks. “Do you know how it feels to not get a single hour of sleep because your nightmares are too fucking real? Do you have a single idea of how torturing it is to have him, of all people–” Margo was listening, but you didn’t care. You wanted answers and you would get them. “Why him?”

“Poor little thing. You haven’t figured it out yet?” she hums, furrowing her eyebrows. And you hate the look of pity she has on her face. It was her that did this in the first place! “That must be tough, to keep all of that to yourself.”

No one knew about your feelings for Miguel. Well, you had a slight hunch that maybe Peter B. Parker might have noticed it. But otherwise, you kept all to yourself. Treasuring little moments as precious jewelry.

He was your boss! And besides, he was still too caught up in his late family. He would never open his heart again after the tragedy bestowed upon him. You couldn't blame him; a man forever stuck in the past, reliving each moment when he was happy.

However, sometimes, you would catch him looking. Exchange glances in a crowded room; during meetings. You would spend time with him alone; in a comfortable silence hard to find, or in an easy-going atmosphere that left you smiling like an idiot.

But that was what they were, fleeting moments. And even though sometimes you dreamed about a future where you could give him all the love he deserved, they were just that; silly dreams. There was no space for you in his life. You had accepted that long ago.

“You see, my abilities are a gift,” Torment simply says, still unphased at your suffering. “They search deep in your soul for what you seek the most. The nightmares are just an incentive to make you finally take the big step.”

“What?” A memory comes to the forefront of your mind; a finger touching your forehead, the slight shock that sent you back a few steps. Miguel’s face appears right after the electric feeling dissipates. “What do you mean?”

“You know very well,” There’s some sort of twisted kindness when her smile appears again, it irks you profoundly, “Take care, darling. You can thank me later.”

The machine finishes threading the web, encapsulating the woman inside a honey-colored web. The last thing you see is her waving at you before disappearing into nothing.

Outraged, you punch the glass again, and again. No, no, no. This can’t be happening! That woman must be lying, there’s no way the cure to this torment is–

“Calm down, Y/N!” Margo holds your wrist before you can land another hit. She’s saying something but you can’t hear it. Anxiety takes over your body as you crouch on the floor, hiding your face in your arms.

You will have to tell Miguel.

And that was worse than any other nightmare.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #across the spider verse spoilers #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #sometimes i write

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unnoticed-poison · 3 months

Text

Dark! Yandere! Hazbin Hotel Various X Reader -Trailer Chap-

I got obsessed with this show so I decided why not write a yandere fic for it for fun.

I'm gonna post chapter one here as well, but then future chapters will most likely be posted on AO3, Wattpad and Quotev, the links will be posted soon.

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖

Everyone was familiar with the screams and pleads of terror and despair that echoed throughout the city, hundreds of demons, in a state of panic, could be seen running in the streets in desperation, terrified at the sight of the angels, who had determined smiles on their faces as they chased them down with the intent to end their lives, prompting them to run even faster, trying to escape their impending doom that was closing in on them.

Amidst all the chaos, in one of the buildings from the distance, unaffected by the madness, a low yet soft voice rang out, reading out loud from a book, seemingly oblivious to the horror happening outside.

"- Lucifer found her and the rebellious dreamers fell deeply in love-"

It was a story they'd read countless times before, but oh it never failed to bring them joy and comfort.

"She empowered the demon kind with her voice and her songs-"

Despite the screams of terror outside were practically impossible to ignore, this particular story offered a temporary escape from their worries, even for just a little while.

"And their dream was passed down to their precious son, the prince of hell."

The end.

....

The man let out a deep sigh as he gently shut the book and gazed out the window at the chaos. " Don't worry Mom, I'll make this work, I promise."

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 it takes.

"Charles, I enjoy your theatrics and all, I really do, but this is literally the fifth time you've repeated the same story to yourself."

A voice rang out behind him suddenly, making him turn his head in fright.

"Shit Dicckie! I didn't see you there." He let out a nervous chuckle. "Did you hear all that?"

Dicckie nodded. "Yeah, I literally just said that."

"Sorry, you know I always get worked up during an extermination." He smiled down at the book in his hands. " This book always helps, even for just a moment."

It was better than nothing...

"Don't worry, I love hearing your voice anyways, but you know you can always talk to me-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a deafening explosion echoed through the air, making them jolt in surprise and fright as they turned to the source of the noise.

Looking out the window, the men watched as an entire airship crashed into the buildings below, the group of exterminators who had taken it down cheered and high-fived one another before parting ways.

.......

Charles sighed. "They're extra ruthless this year, huh.."

It just gets worse and 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 each year.

.......

Dicckie struggled to find something to say to comfort the prince, before remembering what he was here for in the first place. " Hey, how about we go see what Alastor prepared for our commercial? That will take your mind off.. this."

Charles smiled, setting the book aside before standing up and grabbing his hand. "You're right! He should be done with it by now, let's go."

Dicckie smiled back at him, pleased to see him so enthusiastic again, it suited him better. "There you go, I'm positive he did an amazing job," he said, though he couldn't mask the slight hesitation in his tone.

At least, he hoped he did.

That radio freak better have made something 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥.

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖

I wanted to continue MC's part but I don't have much free time so I decided to end the trailer here

My friend told me to name vaggie Dicckie cause

Vaggie = vagina

So automatically

Dicckie= Dick 😭😭😭

#hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel

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writerracha · 1 year

Note

can you pls consider writing a smut where changbin or han comes home stressed from work a best friend! reader offers a back massage (make ‘em shirtless!) . but reader gets turned on from how pretty and broad their back is and basically tells them why they can’t continue the massage bc of that and then forth (sry that this was so long 😞 i’ve just been so obsessed w this thought)

can I consider??? omg yes please this is so hot :( hope you like it even if it's a little short!! i also got your other request and i'll be writing it soon!!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ release the tension — changbin x female reader

↻ 0.9k :: best friends :: cw. explicit smut. no specific warnings, some dirty talk.

↻ 18+ mdni :: not proof read, pls be kind :: masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Changbin arrives at your apartment about twenty minutes after he texts you asking to come over. He had a rough day at work, he says, looking tired and stressed. You let him in, the both of you sitting down in the living room.

"Did something happen?" you ask him.

He shakes his head, staring down at his cup. "Not really. I just... I've been feeling so stressed. I'm so tense, my whole body hurts."

"Your back again?" you wince.

Changbin nods. "I'm scared I'll pull something again."

You bite your lip, trying to come up with a solution. You hate seeing your best friend so worried. "How about a massage?" you suggest. "I remember it helped you back then."

Changbin gives you a quick look and shrugs. "I mean, I don't want to bother you..."

"You don't bother me at all," you smile. "Come on, sit in front of me."

Changbin slides on the floor, placing himself in between your legs. You shuffle on the edge of the couch, putting your hands on his shoulders.

"Just let me know if I hurt you."

You start massaging his shoulders, trying to find the knot in his muscles. You have to move your fingers down his back, feeling the tense muscles, pushing and rolling against them. Changbin sighs in obvious relief - but your fingers keep slipping on the material of his shirt.

"Hm, Bin?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind taking your shirt off? I think it would be easier."

A short silence follows your words, and you bite your lip. It shouldn't be any trouble, right? You've known Changbin for so long, and you've seen him shirtless plenty of times. But it would be the first time since you've started developing feelings for him.

Those feelings have sneaked up on you.

You don't know what started it, exactly - but one day you found yourself staring at your best friend, at his dark eyes and handsome face, your thoughts derailing at how his strong arms held you, wondering how it would feel to kiss his plump lips. Changbin was always handsome - but now you can't stop fantasizing about him. Which is a problem. He is your best friend. You can't think about him that way.

But it's hard, especially as he removes his t-shirt, the fabric revealing his soft skin and defined muscles. His hair is a mess of black curls in which you desperately want to slide your fingers.

"Is that better?" he asks.

"Y-yeah," you gulp.

His skin is so smooth under your fingertips. Your eyes trail down his spine, taking in every muscle, every scar, every beauty mark. Changbin is strong. So strong. He could lift you up easily. You wonder how it would feel to dig your nails inside his back as he buries his thick cock into you and -

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"Everything ok?"

You realize you've stopped massaging him, your imagination taking you where you really shouldn't go. You are soaking wet, and you need to resist bucking your hips against the fabric of the couch just to provide your throbbing folds some pressure. Fuck, you need to touch yourself, you need to cum, this can't do.

"S-sorry. I got distracted," you admit, a little breathless. You shake your head. "Y-you know what? I think I need to stop, I just... I can't focus."

Changbin turns around, looking up at you. Fuck. His eyes shine in the darkness, curls brushing his ears, and you catch a glimpse of the front of his chest, his pectorals, his belly button, his -

"What were you thinking about?"

You frown at the knowing smirk on his lips. "N-nothing."

Are his eyes getting darker? Why is he only looking at you this way? He continues to turn around until he is on his knees, his upper body entirely visible to you, and you have to focus really hard so as to not squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, how can someone look this good?

You want your best friend to ruin you.

You want to become a trembling mess in his arms.

You want him to fuck you until you can't remember your own name.

This is wrong.

"Do you think I can't smell you? And those little red cheeks..."

You swallow, trying to come up with an excuse, but your brain is empty.

"B-Binnie..."

"Tell me you don't want to push your legs together, huh? Need to relieve yourself a little, baby? Is your pussy wet?"

You can't say a word - and you realize that Changbin has put both his hands on your legs, holding them apart. He smiles.

"Did my back turn you on?"

You can't deny it. It would be useless to. "Y-yes."

He senses your hesitation. "It's ok, Y/N. My cock has been hard ever since you started touching me," he admits, and you glance down at his crotch. There is a visible bulge there, pushing against the fabric. You bite your lip. He smiles. "It's your hands. Those cute little hands... I want them everywhere on my body."

You reach for him. "Fuck, Changbin, everything about you turns me on..."

Changbin chuckles. "Fucking finally."

He pushes himself up, grabbing you into a desperate, needy kiss. His lips taste good, his tongue sliding around yours. You arch your back, moaning in his mouth, and Changbin pushes his hand against your core, making you moan harder.

"I can feel even above your clothes how fucking wet you are," he sighs, breathing hard. "You can fuck yourself on my fingers and then I'll make you cum around my cock, how does that sound?"

You smile. "As long as you let me mark that back of yours."

Changbin laughs. "Deal."

#seo changbin smut #changbin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #seo changbin hard hours #seo changbin hard thoughts #changbin hard hours #changbin hard thoughts #changbin imagines #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours

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yelenasdiary · 9 months

Note

“Ever wonder if the world would be better without you…?” With wanda Maximoff x reader pretty please

-🐚

Drunken Thoughts

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: After another one of Tony’s parties and a few drinks later, you found yourself letting a thought slip to your closest friend.

AC: Thank you for sending this, I hope you enjoy & I also hope it’s okay I made this a platonic fic! X

The night was finally over, another one of Tony's parties with a little too much socializing and pretending to listen to topics that you could care less about. Wanda was sitting on the sofa in the compounds living room when you entered the room finishing off your drink and placing the empty glass in the skin.

"Y/n, come over here" Wanda smiled softly. She noticed over the last few weeks that you've been a little distant and off with everything and she couldn't help but keep a close eye on you. Wandering over to her, you slumped yourself down next to her and placed your head on her shoulder. "What's on your mind?" she asked.

"Nothing" you replied in a soft tone, but Wanda already knew that was a lie and you knew better than to lie to a mind reader.

"Shall we try that again?" Wanda placed a hand on your knee as you sighed. "I don't know…do you ever just, you know?" you spoke. Wanda shook her head, "ever just what?" she questioned.

"Ever wonder if the world would be better without you…?" You looked up at her. Wanda turned to you while you lifted your head off her shoulder, "what's this about?" She asked.

"I just, I don't know…. lately I've been thinking about a world without me and if I'm being honest….it seems the world would be fine. Nothing would change and I'm not sure why I even stay" you explained, letting your built-up thoughts spill. Wanda listened carefully, hurting on the inside knowing that her friend was feeling so low.

"You're wrong about all of that, you know that, right?" She broke the silence, "you mean a lot more to the world than you see. You're apart of this family and every single time you go in a mission, you're changing the world. I know being an Avenger isn't easy and it has its cons but look at the pros. Look at the good we've done, how many people we have saved but most importantly, look at how many people you've saved" she added while looking into your eyes hoping her words were sinking in.

"Yeah, I help save people I've never met before, and I'll never know them. Once upon a time I felt amazing that I was helping people in such a way but now? It's nothing new" you replied with a sigh.

"Did you know that you're the glue that holds all of us together? You're the one who is able to make us smile on the darkest days, the one who lets us know you're always there for us not matter what time or where we are. While you think the world better without, my world would not be better and I can promise you that everybody else would agree with me" Wanda replies with a stern voice that was full of comfort.

Her words took you back for a moment, were you so foolish to actually think that nobody would think twice if you left this earth for the afterlife? Through all the dark thoughts you'd been having, it was near impossible. Every time you thought of something positive the little voice in your head came up with a way to make you believe that the world would be better off without you, that you meant nothing and nobody around you truly cared.

But here you were, sitting in front of your best friend who was on the edge of tears hoping her words got through to you, even if it was just for a moment. You knew leaving her would break her and suddenly you began to think about the others and how Wanda was right, their world would not be better without you. They are your family, the only family you truly knew and as much as you'd been there for them through thick and thin, they were there for you.

Even though your mind told you they didn't care, you didn't see how they made sure you were hydrated and eating, making sure you still went to training and not saying a word if you weren't giving it your all, offering to run small errands for you and still inviting you to things even if they knew you'd say no. The small things they did for you showed you just how much you truly mattered to the team.

Then, suddenly, it hit you, the party Tony threw was for you. A fundraiser to help wildlife in need of serious help. If you had of noticed this detail earlier, maybe you wouldn't have tried to drown your thoughts with the free alcohol that went straight onto Tony's tab.

"I h-honestly didn't think of things like that" you replied, tears of your own filling your eyes. Wanda pulled you in for a tight hug, "I know sweetheart but it's okay. Our thoughts can get the best of us sometimes but you're so much stronger than you think, I wish you'd come to me when things start to get bad. I never want you to feel like you're alone, ever!" She speaks as she rubs your back, letting you cry into her arms.

It was then that you knew that you'd make a change and you knew that your family would always be there for you, no matter what.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #fanfiction #marvel

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ivoryghostyy · 9 months

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「 image isn't mine; sourced from pinterest 」

「 tw: mentions of blood, implications of severe injuries, etc. 」

Blade was strong. he could handle a ward of enemies by himself—you knew this.

..but Blade was also reckless. he lives off the chaos, thriving in the blood shed on the battlefield. he finds entertainment in the place people despise.

he was a beast.

but, pray tell, why does he find every need to get himself as hurt as humanly possible!?

"..again? at this point, just tell me you miss me," you jest, cringing at the heavy wounds scattered along his toned figure.

his cold amber eyes stare you down, and he is not amused. impatient, yet not wanting to scare you away like last time, he waited for you to move.

he could tell you were tired—if the heavy dark circles under your eyes told him anything. you were someone he found hard to understand.

you cared for people deeply. you spent hours into the night, reading past medical records and books just to help a patient. kindness, that's what people see in you.

..maybe a little too much kindness, he would argue.

after a few more moments of silence, he growls, "hurry it up, bunny."

"i'm struggling to hold myself back right now."

you click your tongue, a shiver crawling up your spine. the wounds have stopped bleeding, you observe. but they're all still pretty deep.

"..please stay still."

this man wasn't a difficult patient. on the contrary, he was silent. his pain tolerance was amazing, yet was also somewhat concerning.

you've heard of the rumors. he was definitely frightening. more often than not, though, you wonder. for reasons unknown, you can always see that emptiness in his gaze. was it hatred? loneliness, perhaps? maybe even longing..? regardless, it wasn't your place to pry.

another round of silence ensues, with you sweating nervously under his piercing stare. when you finally finish dressing his wounds, you hurriedly return the cluttered medical supplies back to their places.

you plan to leave quickly, not wanting to stay any longer with the man.

"wait."

you freeze when you feel an arm slithering around your waist. you can feel his breath, what with his face planted on the small of your back. 'his hand is warm,' you note, still keeping your guard up.

"stay with me, bunny."

with a soft tug, he's pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist. "you can do that, right?" he asks, and you can swear your heart stopped beating for a second there.

not trusting yourself to speak under his pointed gaze, you can only nod, letting him hug you closer.

"good girl," he exhaled.

..maybe taking a little break would do you some good.

#yeah idk #i dont know what i am doing #random scenarios #honkai star rail #star rail #hsr blade #blade honkai #blade x you #blade x reader #fluff #bladie #scenarios

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psychelis-new · 1 year

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pick a pile: "Who are you"

take a breath and choose the photo/number that calls you the most to read a brief description of your light and shadow sides. don't mind about seeing more male figures than female in the pics: I was called to choose them like that but it may not even be about the energy you emit, it's mostly about the whole atmosphere of the photo (we'll find out as the reading takes place).

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3 4

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - pile 1 and 3 may have some type of connection, if you feel called by both you may want to take a look. - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

You probably are a good observer. You have spent lot of your life observing people, observing life, trying to understand it. and you are now very succesful at it, at reading people and knowing what they want and what they need to hear. You've always watched them going somewhere but you were never really able to realize where you wanted to go yourself or what you wanted for yourself. It feels like you have never really lived? You've watched most of your life from a window or so it seems. It could be cause of some shock happened when you were little, or some blockage happened in those years as well (you may have been a very sensitive child). You feel behind in your life atm. But this is only your perception of the reality: you don't have to worry about it, you are simply living and walking through your own path at your own pace. You cannot and don't have to compare to anyone else. You're you. and that's enough to make you special. You don't have to worry about not having found your path, not having had a relationship yet (or a long/serious one if this is what you want), the career of your dreams. You don't have to worry if your friends or people your age seem to have it all together and be realized: look well, not all that glitters is gold. But that is not your business: you need to focus on you now. On what you need, what you want to do and to be. Make your wishes, anything: don't be scared of asking for too much, you won't. You'll only ask for what is your birthright. Make wishes, write them down. Be bold. Write down the life of your dreams and be corageus enough to find ways to go get it. Study, find people who may help you, realize what you need to learn or what type of work on yourself you need to do to help you gain this boldness you need to start living your life and be yourself, be seen as yourself with no fear. Let your light shine through your darkness. Don't be scared of feeling wrong, of being wrong. It's okay, you're learning something new, you're starting to live again. Wish for the stars, and even if something will go wrong, you'll still end up among them (yeah I know it's not the exact saying but it's whatever! Make your own sayings! Who cares if aren't like the others? You're not like the others either, you're special. Believe in that and in all the possibilities you have). [TW d3pression hint: maybe something happened and you stopped at a certain point in your life cause it just felt too much being out and about and you just had to survive. If it's still so, you can get out of it. Ask for help, you don't have to go through that all alone. You're not alone and you won't be alone forever. /TW]. Whatever it is that is blocking you, that is causing you pain, you'll get control over it. You can. Things can change, and don't be scared of this: it will feel uncomfortable at first, but it's gonna be okay. If you feel called by an old passion or any kind of artistic endeavour, go. Follow it. Try. And if you won't be perfect (what does it means even) you will be your own kind of perfect anyway. At any level you wish to get or stop. Just enjoy the process.

songs: comfortable | h.e.r.; somebody else | the 1975 (first song: get comfortable with yourself in particular; second song: become somebody else or more "you", don't be scared of being seen as different)

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pile 2

Pile 2, you seem to be at the end of a cycle. I feel calm with you, and also this sunset tells me that you've been through a lot and despite some things are still in need to be taken care of, the worst is gone. You've grown a lot. You probably aren't able to see this cause I feel there's still some type of self sabotage going on or lack of trust in yourself or the Universe. It feels like you probably are so used at things going wrong that you cannot see them going right now. The message is clear here: your worries are for nothing. It's time to receive. You indeed are trying to block your blessings by not seeing them? I needed to put on my glasses and my third eye is hitching so hard... for a few of you may be about a spiritual awakening that this huge tower moment you've been through brought to you but you're not totally aware of. For others, it's indeed that you don't want to see or feel or trust: maybe you're getting downloads even through dreams about something or in any other way, you're getting signs, but you are someone who doesn't trust much that now is your turn to receive? Well, I'm sorry but I don't think that it's up to you to decide, or at least that's what your cards are telling me. You've done your job, you have been through the dark, now it's time to see a new dawn, to start something new, to receive something good. And I think it's both in career and love and anything in between. Find your balance, and find a reason to trust whatever it is that you are experiencing or feeling. You need to take a look inside and realize that you are a different person now so it's normal for things to go differently from the past. You are attracting something different cause you are differemt. Be positive about it. And be sure that things are going way better than you can imagine. I know you've been reading and hearing this for so long that you still feel like it's never gonna be. You keep asking "yes but when?". Trust, believe. Stop asking when and start acting on the now. The future will come at the right moment. But the present is already here. Realize all that you've done, the person you are now, all that you have been through and what it made you. Take a breathe. Take the time to appreciate the journey and congratulate yourself. Treat yourself even. You deserve accolades. Start giving to yourself, do not always wait for something from the outside. Show that you're ready to receive by giving to yourself. And the rest will happen, magically. But be consistent in your gesture and love towards yourself, and believe that you deserve the best for real. Don't do it "just because a reading told me so and I want to see if it's right and things will really change". No, believe it is right for you because you do deserve. it's self appreciation. Self worth. Self care. Self love.

songs: almost over | limp bizkit; pink skies | lany

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pile 3

Tunnel vision, ofc. "My way or the high way". For as much as this could even be a good thing cause it means you're very determined to get what you want and work hard for it with no or just little distractions, you generally tend to use this power you have within in the wrong way: you don't allow yourself to see what else can be around you, what other good things can be, what other roads may bring you to your destination. It feels like if you encounter a bump on your road and you need to change it, you don't start again or continue towards your goal you just... give up. Which is kinda sad, pile 3. You have all you need, but you don't trust your guts, your vision, your path. Life is on your side though: it may take you a lot but I think you may get more chances to follow a determined journey, no matter how many times you'll try to give it up: that's your destiny indeed. You have something fated for you, like have a specific past life contract to do something or call it as you want, but you're avoiding it. You're avoiding to change inside. You're blocking yourself with your tunnel vision and with your insecurities: you take a "maybe" as a "no". And that's not good for you. Start taking "maybes" as "yes", obstacles as tests... don't be scared. Heal whatever you need to heal (I think there are some triggers or traumas that are very rooted deep inside of you and maybe you don't even recognize them to a certain level or as so or you're not aware of them) and don't be so stubborn in your view. Be open to different roads, to sifferent possibilities that will take you where you want and need to be. Start believing that things can change and don't be scared if it feels uncomfortable: it has to be. Change, the real change, often brings uncomfortable feelings and it's scary, cause it's new, cause you're going out of your comfort zone (which you don't like to leave, no matter what you tell yourself or others). But you can afford it, you can survive it, you can adapt it and make it your new comfort zone. Be patient, be kind with yourself, but try. Don't say "no" out of fear. If the Universe is calling you to end this cycle and start moving and acting differently, follow it. Universe knows better than you if you're ready or not. Also, talk. Communicate. Be you. Repeating positive affirmations or recording them and listening to them when you need may be of help in your journey, even journaling.

For some this could be about feeling worthy of love/friendships. Love, you are. If you keep meeting the wrong people is cause you need to heal something, in particular how you perceive yourself and how you treat yourself (and how you let others treat you). Don't give up, go get what you want, create occasions. See your true worth and don't close off to people who could be right for you cause of misunderstandings or cause of past traumas: give them and yourself a chance. Also cause, it seems they're coming in. Brace yourself.

songs: immunity | jon hopkins; sound of breaking | faunea (first song is instrumental: you may need to mediatate on what you need to do or go for a walk/run outside; also the situations/field in which this applies for any of you are different).

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pile 4

"On top of the world". Pile 4, no matter where you are or what you do, you sometimes cannot really enjoy what you're experiencing in the moment. I feel nervous despite your pic is basically the opposite: it shows how much you can accomplish and probably have accomplished already but.. it's never enough? Or you don't appreciate that? It's not like pile 2, they've been through rough times... not saying you haven't but this is more about never feeling satisfied about who you are and what you do and how. There ain't no prize you can receive that can make you feel like you did someting good. You probably wouldn't feel really happy or satisfied even after getting an Oscar or a Nobel. There's always something you could do better, or faster or... anything -er/more. Even reaching the top of that mountain in your pic, you may even worry you took too much time to get there and it's probably something that plays at the back of your mind too: times flows, probably too fast and you feel behind. You aren't perfect, you haven't done that, somebody else has, and time is passing.. Jeez stop it, please. Stop it. You're stressing too much and yes time passes, it goes by, but you're wasting on unnecessary stuff: you waste it cause you don't enjoy anything. You don't enjoy the view from where you are. You don't enjoy what you've done. You are being too harsh on yourself, and Idk if it's something that you bring with you from your childhood (you needed to top everything to get praises from your caregivers probably and be appreciated, I'm sorry if it's so), or some twisted way you see competition with yourself or others. Either way, this is not healthy. Please, stop your mind for a minute, get back into you: see how much you have done. You don't have to be so strict about the how and the mistakes: we're humans we cannot be perfect... in the end nothing is perfect. Not even nature, not even robots (cause guess what: they're made by humans!). And really you want to tell me nature is not worth of appreciation? That scientific researches aren't either? I don't believe you. So why would it be different for you? My point is: you're your own work of art, you are your own perfect being, you are on the top of that mountain not to think about how you got there but why: and I think and hope it's to watch the amazing landscape in front of you and appreciate the effort it took you to complete on the journey. Which is not the end of it all: new journeys start everyday, you can make them better (in your view) thanks to past experiences. But remember to enjoy them all, no matter what. It's all in front of your eyes, you'r enot making up anything, I'm not making up anything: look at yourself in the mirror and congratulate yourself. And go for a new challenge if it's what makes you feel good. Just remember to do it all in an healthy way, and respect yourself. And stop to enjoy the view and appreciate your effort, here and there on your journey. (I'm feeling so tired right now pile 4, I hope you can give yourself a break soon). Also, take a look around, don't be so focused on your accomplishments and competing with yourself: people around you are cheering for you and ready to help you cause they love you the way you are. Trust that they see the real you and they're not there to tell you lies: if they're cheering on you for who you are or what you did, it's cause you deserve that. It may be a lover too or someone in love with you, pay attention to them, especially if you like them as well (maybe you didn't noticed their interest?). Do not neglect affections too much. Take them on a journey with you, every now and then. Or stop to enjoy time with them: it's never gonna be wasted: nobody is running behind you, only yourself.

songs: god gave me you | blake shelton; rain on me | ariana grande & lady gaga

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cacti-are-like-flamingos · 9 months

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Simple Pleasures

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Monoxide Poisoning...

...

Lately, you've found yourself visiting Haibara's dorm room. For no specific reason, to be honest. Although, you did like to view it as taking a small vacation from your boy's chaotic nature.

Unlike Suguru's room, which is primarily dark like yours and decorated with the little trinkets the trio has gathered throughout the months --- Haibara's is full of life. Like literally, he has a lot of plants. He's a plant daddy

The topic of Gojo's room will be visited later on

And with so many plants, it's bound to be pretty humid. But you make no comment on it as you happily watch him spray water on his greens, chatting your ear off in a way that doesn't annoy you (unlike Gojo)

Haibara likes to invite you on his trips to the gardening stores, he'll also invite Kento, whenever the blonde has time. In his eyes, it's like a little plant shopping date.

He even has outfits for these sorts of occasions --- you know, Haibara is going out to buy more plants when you see him wearing a light brown leather jacket that Gojo gifted to him a while back. For no reason really, surprisingly.

When shopping, Kento is obviously the person in charge of driving the cart while you and Haibara are running around looking at all the plants around the shop. Well, it's more of you bringing random plants to Haibara for approval of their existence whilst he gets the ones from his list.

Sometimes, you'll bring small succulents to Kento, hoping that he'll find them as pretty as you did.

(Side Note: Kento doesn't like you going too far, he always likes to have you in his field of vision since you're still new to Japan so he doesn't want you getting lost.)

All it takes is one nod of acknowledgement from the man to satisfy you and then, you're running off to put the plant back into place.

Kento likes to admire the long necked plants, the ones that usually have to be hung pots; however, if he had to pick a plant to keep in his home, it would be a larkspur. Its vibrant color is bound to distract from his boring walls. Either way, he'd rather not have one with how busy curses have him.

I don't know a thing about plants so don't quote me on anything

You wanted to buy Suguru this flower you heard about in passing, but when you asked Haibara about it, you learned that it was a tree rather than a pretty little thing.

So you bought him a combination of pink and blue hydrangeas, and a little booklet on how to care for them

You specifically decided to buy Gojo a succulent considering that you didn't really know if he'd take as great care of it as Suguru did. And, to be honest, you made a good call considering that the plant died not long after you gifted it. Which is a literal miracle considering it doesn't even need much. Surprisingly enough, when you had given Gojo the succulent, on a whim, you also bought him a white carnation. Contrary to its counterparts fate, Gojo took amazing care of it.

You've yet to see it wilt from where it stands on Gojo's desk in his dorm room--- ah, now's a great time to talk about his room

As we've come to know, Gojo is the Head of his Clan. I don't think much is known about his family other than his abilities, the Six-Eyes and Limitless, can be found throughout the bloodline. So for the sake of my canon, Gojo Satoru is the only Gojo that remains alive. The other's having long passed.

As such, Gojo has obvious access to all assets as well as estates that rightfully belong to his bloodline. So I ask, why would he have a dorm room when he has a full-on mansion not far from the school? (the distance is also manipulated for my canon)

Yes, being able to live on campus would be much easier than being chauffeured around yet, one cannot deny the benefits of a bigger room. One bigger than your own, which you had to bribe Yaga for.

But then again, the Gojo Estate feels so...empty. Barren of life and excitement. Of course, servants lurk around the long corridors, performing daily chores and anticipating their Master's every whim, but that's all they are. They're servants, who are loyal to his name, to his family line, to his power. They don't really care about him. Not really. Most either worship his god-hood, or they fear him enough to worship him.

That's why he stays near you and Suguru. You're both strikingly different from his other reality. Neither if you could give less of a fuck to the alter he stands upon in the Jujutsu world. You don't offer him blindness adoration, you offer him insults and cursed words. On the other hand, Suguru offers an actual challenge. He treats the young Gojo like an equal instead of a superior, and he adores loves that about the raven-haired.

(Side Note: Gojo and Suguru bicker a lot. Mainly because they both have like a quiet version of machismo where they both want to be the dominant of the field. So it's usually up to you to break them up, or distract them since Ieiri would never dare get herself in between them. To be honest, the pair already know what you're up to when you try to distract them, but they keep their mouths shut because they know how their bickering tends to stress you out for some reason. One time, Suguru heard you briefly mention something about "waiting for the shoe to drop," maybe that's the reason?)

(Add-on: When it's not Suguru and Gojo arguing, it's you and Gojo. Even then it's mainly the white fiend annoying you to the point you're reaching to grab his hair. Suguru is the one who has to separate you. Usually, he'll distract you by playing with your earring, the moon that hangs on the top curve. The simple action is enough to capture your attention as you quickly settle down to his light touch, hanging on your bottom lips as you glare at the surprisingly pensive Gojo, who watches the whole interaction wordlessly. No one knows what he thinks about, just that he'll suddenly quiet down and observe. (Except me, I know hehe) )

Anyways, on certain odd occasions, Gojo does need to head back to his estate to handle official business. What business may that be? It's undisclosed. Mainly cause of how boring it is, Gojo would reason.

So, when he is over there, in that life-sucking horrid place, he'll resort to subconsciously using the coping mechanism he's developed over the months.

He likes to play around with the sun charm that hangs from his wrist, just besides --- oh? It can't be...is that the bracelet you lost back in August? The one he found lost under his pillow from the time you used his dorm room to hide from his 'hunting'? Well I'll be damned. He had the clasp fixed and everything

(Side Note: Gojo has a single empty frame that sits beside his bed within the master bedroom of his estate. Supposedly, he's waiting for the right image to occupy it with. He discarded every other picture into a storage room --- they're all of him as a child. When he sees them, he doesn't think much of them. But they just...feel wrong. )

But the moment, he comes back, it's time to go out. It's a routine by this point. Gojo will text the group chat that he's coming back home, and everyone (Kento, Haibara, You, Usguru, and Ieiri. Ijichi avoids Gojo like the plague) is already standing outside the gates of the school, ready for a night out. And, as always, your little trio is in matching outfits.

In a separate group chat, where it's just you three --- one of them will send a picture of the outfit they plan to wear, so the other two will find something to either compliment it or match exactly. (You'll say it's subconscious but like, there's a system to it. On Mondays, Gojo sends the pic. Tuesday, Suguru. Wednesday, you. So on, so forth.)

Dotonbori is the day's destination.

(Side Note: Gojo gives you his sunglasses so that you don:t get a raging headache from the bright lights of the neon signs.)

You and Gojo have this weird thing where the two hang at the back of the group. He'll be walking right beside you. In fact, he forces you to wrap your arm around his elbow while he stuffs his hands into his pant's pockets. To be honest, you don't mind at all considering how warm he is and how cold it's becoming in Japan.

(Side Note: Since you and Gojos hang at the back of the group, Haibara makes sure to include the pair of you in the group's conversations. Ieiri often asks Haibara if his neck hurts from the amount of time he's looking back at you and Gojo. He just doesn't want you two to be left behind.)

In the beginning, Suguru handles the interactions with the clerks, but eventually, his social battery runs out. When this happens, he'll come over to you (you still wrapped around Gojo) and he'll do one of two things --- hold Gojo's hand, or wrap an arm around your shoulders to caress the back of your head. Something you noticed helps bring him back to Earth.

Surprisingly, your little trio, despite being the loudest back at school, mellows out whenever they're out and about the streets of Japan. To the point, where it's Haibara and Kento who are ordering for the trio. (Kento actually just orders for you, Haibara, and Ieiri. Yet, since the only people you share are with Suguru and Gojo, the two eat from your own meal.)

(Side Note: You'd never guess it, but Gojo does get tired of talking. Funnily enough, Kento knows the trio is tired of socializing when you have your face buried into the side of Gojo's shoulder, Suguru's face laid on your as well. Also, you three look hella exhausted by then.)

(Add-on: Kento is truly at peace when the three are tired af.)

Kento ordered you some ten yen cheese coins from a small shop when he noticed you eyeing the various customers consuming said cheese coins --- every time the cheese stretched, Gojo would gather the stretched out part on his lanky fingers and eat it. On the other hand, you'd let Suguru get a bite.

You almost choked on a ball of mozarella cheese, forcing Suguru to hit you really hard on the back while Gojo laughed

Haibara really likes the pork steam buns from one of the shops (551 Horai) so you'll order him like three of the big ones, claiming that he's too bony for his health (you fret over his health a lot weirdly enough)

Ieiri made an effort to not smoke today, so she decided to stuff her mouth with takoyaki from the shop Kukuru, which she actually offered to Kento after catching him admiring the glazed meal. Kento tried to reject but she stuffed the octopus-filled ball into his mouth. The angry look on his face was so worth it.

Your group has a natural separation at some point, where Haibara, Kento, and Ieiri go to a spot together. Leaving your little trio behind to their own devices. (Your rendezvous point is under the giant crab, iykyk)

Ah, I just had a funny thought --- when Gojo saw something he liked, he'd pull you along, and, by extension, Suguru. That's actually how Gojo got you into sharing a sweet potato brulee dessert with him. (With Suguru feasting on some dango he found covered in sweet soy sauce.)

Ah, another thought. So, you know how Hijo has plenty of girls that fangirl behind his every step? Well, on the occasions Gojos is hanging out with Suguru alone, he's oftentimes, bombarded with them offering treats, gifts, and whatever those girls come up with.

One of those gifts, in particular, comes in the form of a bento box. And, let me tell you, it's a shit-ton. Now, Gojo never eats from the meals his fans pour their souls into --- he just doesn't see the bed when he's constantly stealing from your food.

So most of the bento boxes would end up in the trash. That is, until one day, when you were present for the exchange, that you asked the clan head if you could try it.

All you said, ALL YOU FUCKING SAID WAS THAT IT TASTED GOOD

Next thing you know, every bento box is heading your way.

They're all very cute, and obvious care has been put into them --- BUT SHIT THERE'S SO MANY

Each one you can't eat, you give to Suguru, who then gives it to Haibara, who then gives it to Ieiri despite her constantly whining that they have cooties.

Eventually, though, there's a shift. No-one knows where it came from or why it happened, it just did. All of a sudden, Gojo was the one making the bento boxes.

A big shocker considering none of you have ever, once, seen him cook

He'd wake up early in the morning to make you and Suguru bento boxes as he hummed a tune under this breath while wearing a frilly pink apron he found stashed in the storage cabinets (it belonged to Yaga's graduating class)

As soon as you and Suguru wake up, either one with a list of missions to do for the day, Gojo would shove their respective bento boxes into their faces, a smug smile on his cheeks as he went to clean up the mess he left behind.

Gojo really likes to have fun with his bento-making skills so the meals he makes usually have lots of faces. Sometimes, for your rice, he'll use the seaweed to make the face of a penguin. While for Suguru, he'll carve faces into the little octopus shaped mini hot dogs.

Unfortunately for your pride, but fortunately for your stomachs --- Gojo is a really good cook. Mainly because, just like always, he doesn't have to try hard to be good at something the first time. He's just stupid that way.

Ieiri has whined about wanting to have a Gojo made bento-box, yet, for whatever odd reason, he never makes her one. It's like an exclusive you and Suguru privilege no-one else could ever hope to hold.

Suguru was the one to buy the trio's chopsticks. Gojo's are black at the end with panda designs printed on them. Suguru has white bunnies carved at the ends of his own chopsticks, and yours, as some sick joke, are attached to a cute bear training tool. The ones you'd buy to teach your child how to use chopsticks.

The glare you gave him that day was icy, to say the very least

Bastard had the audacity to smile with his eyes closed, fully knowing that once he opened them, you'd poke his eye out

You almost did too, had it not been for Gojo shoving an octopus sausage into your mouth.

...

(A/N): Ngl, I forgot Gojo is a canon womanizer so like let's see how I work with that in future chapters. Also, this chapter warmed my heart just a tiny bit. Don't know why tbh.

Very Gojo orientated huh

Also, what are some things you guys can't wait to see in the upcoming episodes?

Song Inspo: everything i wanted - Billie Eilish and Melting - Kali Uchis

The reason why you have yet to have your own sunglasses is simple. In the beginning, the pain was manageable. Also, you procrastinated a lot. Then came Gojo, so why even bother? Plus, you liked to wear Gojo's. They're just...built better, yeah that's why.

For a few months, Gojo kept your bracelet hidden. Not once did he bring it up. But one day, the thoughts were just too loud. Upon seeing it in his desk's drawer, he found himself toying with it to calm down. It's a simple thing really --- a thick black rope twisted into an infinity knot right in the middle. The next day, he went to a jeweler to get it fixed. Ever since that day, he's worn it without your permission. As if he needed it. (Lmao)

Whenever Gojo looks at kid-pictures of himself, he feels wrong. That's because every image of himself looks almost doll-like. So intricately planned out to the last minute detail, nothing feels natural about it. Even the smiles are staged.

All the photos Gojo truly cares about are either on his social media page, or in his gallery. His most fond ones remain in a private folder, never to be posted. Every now and then, he'll go back to them.

The reason why Gojo started making you and Suguru bento boxes was because you inadvertently mentioned how you missed the taste of home. And since Gojo considers you and Suguru as his home, he figured you might as well, too, consider them home. So, he dug around the cabinets, found himself an apron, and got to cooking.

Gojo hangs at the back of the group in case something goes wrong, he can instantly protect the group. Just like him, you hang at the back to watch the souls that are near the group. One simple quirk of the brow from you, and Gojo is in action.

Originally:

This chapter was supposed to start in Dotonbori; however, I saw a tiktok edit of Haibara and wanted to explore his character a bit more since Gege refused us that.

The flower Kento preferred for his home was the orchid. This is only because that's the only flower I truly know.

Suguru was supposed to hold your hand, but he remembered you like to have your hands free to use. So he opted to gently hold the back of your neck instead. He knew you didn't mind due to how you leaned into his touch.

Suguru was the one meant to be making the bento boxes as a way to teach you more about Japanese culture; however, I got tired of portraying Suguru as this caretaker person. And then I remembered that Gege said that Gojo doesn't have to try to be good at something, and then I remembered that Gojo usually dropped his comedic self around Suguru because Gojo felt comfortable around him. So he'd mellow out a bit. I figured that Gojo's love languages include: Physical Touch, Gift-Giving, and a hint of Acts of Services.

Suguru's is still Acts of Services with Words of Affirmation.

Yours is Gift-Giving, Acts of Services, and Quality Time.

The Larkspur flower is actually one of the two flowers of July, the month Kento was born in. However, its meaning also refers to Haibara and the positivity he brings with him.

The flower that you wanted to buy Suguru but couldn't upon finding out its actually a flowering tree called a Plum Blossom. When it snows, the petals can still be seen under the white blanket. Allowing it to represent strength in times of great hardship. However, you then chose to give him a combination of blue and pink hydrangeas. Blue means understanding, gratitude, and apology. Pink means sincere emotions and romance.

A white carnation often conveys the message of pure love and a prosperous life; however, it can also express great remorse for wrongdoing.

What do you mean by "waiting for the other shoe to drop"? Can you see something others can't?

Ah, the fight for dominance...

Guilt seems to be a running theme here, wonder why...

What does Gojo think when he sees you interact with Suguru?

Drop a comment!

Feel free to buy me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

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setsugekka · 10 months

Text

『atarashī 』 ; 05

❝ breaking point ❞ | mlist ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [8k wc] ch cws: smut, a lot of it!!, more marital problems (yes, the baby thing again), very destructive, heat of the moment decision making out of anger that certainly can't be undone...heh

"I think I'm falling in love with someone."

Sitting on the couch beside you, sharing the same warm blanket and with a glass of wine not unlike your own in hand, Yeosang turns to look at you with an expression that vividly says is that so?

It's evenings like this especially that you're thankful for your wealthy background—an apartment to yourself in the middle of the city during college—not something many others get to have for themselves. As a result, you and your boyfriend enjoy so many nights together such as this one, cuddled up in the living room with a movie on the television that neither of you have much intention of paying attention to.

"Oh really?" Yeosang says, playing along. "Anyone I know?"

You smile, pleased by his willingness. "Not sure, just some finance guy with bleached blonde hair and a pretty birthmark by his eye."

Grinning, Yeosang pulls closer to your body. "None of those things sound especially...special. Surely there's something else about him that you like that has you falling for him?"

Face nuzzling into your neck, you feel his lips press into the skin there while a hand beneath the blanket slips over your thigh and slowly between your legs.

"Yeah, I guess so," you reply, feigning being lost in thought on the matter. "He's got a big dick."

Yeosang laughs out loud and into your flesh—not anticipating the comment—and as a result you feel the wetness of his saliva sprinkled from his reaction. You reel with a shriek, pulling quickly away from him and lamenting the outcome of this through laughs that the both of you share.

"Seriously! You spit on me! Gross!"

"Sorry," he says quickly, still grasping towards you in an effort to pull you back against him. "I wasn't expecting the comment about my dick, can you really blame me?"

"For spitting on me!? Yes!" you retort, though playfully and with little resistance to his desire to have you close to him again.

"I didn't mean to do that part," Yeosang says, lips finding yours and hand slipping between your legs once you're close enough again. "I have something you can spit on though, if that would help."

An enticing offer, hard to refuse. You begin to allow yourself to melt into his touch, another evening of enjoying all of the ways that the two of you seem to fit together with such ease. In so many ways, you can't even begin to fathom a world in which you don't. Maybe this is it. Maybe this guy will be the one.

A concept you've never found yourself particularly fussed with before, but who knows. Maybe with him.

"Hey."

The word brings you back out of your thoughts, Yeosang's eyes fitted firmly onto your own now. A small smile paints his lips, as if wildly pleased just by the mere existence of you. Probably true, too. The beginning always feels like this.

"It's about time you caught up, was starting to think I was going to be waiting forever here, by myself, like a loser."

"What do you mean?" you question, eyebrows furrowed.

Yeosang kisses you lightly then, no nefarious intent behind it. A mere showing of kind affection towards you that feels so strongly like the warmth of adoration from one person to another. Innocent, well-meaning. Perfect.

"I love you."

Over the sound of sizzling onions in the pan just in front of you, the loud pop of a champagne cork echos through the dining area of your apartment and turning to look to your left, you watch your husband pour two glasses of the beverage. One for each of you.

Yeosang slides closer to you, slips an arm across the small of your back and around your body to pull you closer against him and places a kiss atop the peak of your shoulder. His lips curl into it, which has a similar effect on your own.

So, you turn your attention fully to him, and the two of you share a kiss over the savory scent of dinner preparation, and in times like this you're actually able to forget all of the other stuff that lies dormant beneath the happiness that exists within this partnership.

If only he was home more often so that it was more of the norm, and less of a reminder.

"It smells delicious," Yeosang says, lips still pressed into your shoulder as he stands beside you. "I wonder what dessert is going to be."

Hardly hidden in intent enough to even be considered an innuendo, Yeosang tips his glass lightly towards your own before whisking himself away and out of the kitchen entirely before you have a chance to chastise him for his filthy mind.

"Be good, or there won't be any dessert."

"I hardly believe that."

Unfortunately, Yeosang knows better. The long, messy hair that delicately cradles the sharp lines of his face as well as the pretty birthmark he has now long since given up trying to hide—your husband stands at the end of the kitchen island in just a plain, white button down shirt and black slacks, but it's plenty to have the mind wandering about what dessert might have to offer indeed.

You remain strong in your resolve, flash him a look that tells him to behave, and at the very least he appears to acquiesce to the suggestion, taking a sip of his drink and then carrying himself further away and towards the dining room table.

"How is it?"

You ask over the gentle clinking sounds of silverware against porcelain plating. It's not often that the two of you get to share evenings together such as this—dinner often reduced to quick and cheap take out, less candlelit filet and the fancy champagne glasses that you received as wedding gifts.

Yeosang leans back in his seat though, mouth full of food and chewing while grinning like a pleased child who couldn't possible receive anything else, anything better from the world. "Delicious. Amazing. You've really outdone yourself this time."

A loving grin takes your face, bashful in the praise even if it comes from your husband, and he's not even finished yet. Yeosang leans forward again with elbows into the glass table, eyes pressed onto you.

"I'm so lucky. The luckiest man on earth, if I had to guess."

You play along. "It is hard to imagine anyone else to be living more lavishly than you are right now, isn't it?"

"Unfathomable, really," he chuckles under his breath, taking a sip of champagne and tossing his napkin onto the table to signal his defeat by the meal in question. "I'd like to see someone try."

Sliding his hand across the table, you meet him halfway and place yours on top of it.

"I have a couple of work emails to catch up on that I've been ignoring all day," Yeosang says with a disgruntled sigh. "But after that...maybe we can revisit that conversation about dessert."

It's not the most ideal, but duty calls. Suppose the table could use some clearing and pans beginning their soaking process in the meantime—thus, you agree with little pushback on the matter.

"I'm holding you to that," you say, coy.

Yeosang takes his hand back, stands from the table and leans over to kiss you on the mouth, lips lingering just atop yours as he grants you a whispered reply. "Good, I hope you do."

Hands wet with warm water and dish soap, you idly drag a sponge across the front of a plate with little thought expended towards the act.

And then your phone vibrates atop the counter just beside.

You still—confused—it's so late in the evening by now that you wonder who it is that could possibly be attempting to contact you. Seonghwa knows you're sharing an evening with your husband and wouldn't bother with an attempt to shoot the shit right now, so when you quickly dry your hands and illuminate the screen, the email that pops up is far from one that you would expect to be finding.

Hey, Sorry for the late night contact, I was going through the other lists of contacts and couldn't find anyone who might be able to set me up with some industry viewings or interviews. Would you happen to know anyone I could speak to about this? My professor is, to put it kindly, useless. Thanks, Hongjoong.

You reread the email two, three times in total. Glance around yourself to ensure that you're alone despite knowing that Yeosang is still holed up in his office with work. Not that you're doing anything wrong—this is work of your own to deal with, after all.

Something in you enjoys this, however. Enjoys the attention, enjoys the way that Hongjoong comes to you for the things that he may need. There's a guilty part of you that knows that the correct choice in this matter is to tell him that he should only contact you during normal, business hours, but another, louder and perhaps sinister part that enjoys the attention; basks in the way that Hongjoong seemingly wants your attention just as much as the other way around, and has no qualms with doing what it takes to acquire it.

Your last meeting with him was a mistake, one that you have no intention of ever revisiting. Boundaries need to be put in place. You can reel this back enough that it sits firmly in the harmless flirting category rather than whatever that was that happened in the theater hall before.

Hey, Unfortunately, I don't have anything on hand, this conversation would be better suited for office hours back at the theaters. I have a personal listing of contacts that would probably suit you well in an effort to advance your career. The professors at the Akademiya have no such lists. We can meet sometime this week and look it over.

See? Perfectly professional. You set your phone down to get back to the dishes that await, but his reply chimes through quicker than anticipated, and worse than that, the excitement of that fact vibrates electric hot under your skin.

Then what kind of conversation would be better suited for the late evening hours? Do you have anything in mind? Instead of waiting for the week to meet, we should meet tomorrow night.

Well, you certainly can't chalk this one up to you. Wholly started by Hongjoong now, you try to fight back the way the corners of your lips curl upwards at how seemingly desperate he is for your attention—for you to talk to him, see him—and while you know you shouldn't be indulging in it, they're just emails. Just text. He can't touch you here, can't undress you here. Nothing on the table like the last time.

But now the dishes go all but forgotten entirely; you turn away from them, phone in hand and glancing up every now and then to keep an eye on the door to the office room. Still closed.

You wonder how wrong this really is. Where the line of affair truly begins and ends.

I don't think it's a good idea for either of us to be going out to do God knows what on a Saturday night, but I appreciate the offer. I can meet you early Monday morning to go over the potential prospects that would likely suit you.

Hongjoong replies quickly to that. Something that you find you are enjoying.

Perhaps not a good idea for you. There's a club I want to go to, you're not allowed to go out and dance when you're married? You didn't answer my question about what we should be talking about at night, by the way. Also, I'm a little regretful I didn't think to take photos of the garment on you, they would have helped a lot with the future planning phase. Instead when I'm working late at night I just have to go off of memory...

The last paragraph is so poignant that you almost immediately forget about the rest of the words laid out in the text. Your heart rate accelerates—hard and fast against your chest as you read the words over and over again—is he...? Is this...?

A thinly veiled admission to touching himself to the memory of touching you?

That thought does something hateful to the way your skin feels across your body. Heat felt all across you as you think of the possibility of it; Hongjoong laid out along his bed, the fabric of his shirt pushed up just slightly across his abdomen and pants pushed down, hand tightly wrapped around his cock as he thinks of you, imagines that it's you, pretends that it's you as he comes across his fist.

You shake the thought from your head as quickly as you can, but the lasting effect of it sitting pooled between your own legs isn't as easily pushed away.

There's a conscious effort to read back the email and simply ignore that bit now, so that you can at the very least reply to everything else.

Surely you have friends from the Akademiya to go with, no need for a married housewife to tag along.

Trying to make yourself sound as boring, uninteresting as possible. You continue on.

Sorry about the garment. As for nightly discussion topics, I'm not sure if there's anything that would be deemed rather appropriate.

Great. You've done your part. You sigh, quickly put your phone on the counter—face down—and make an effort to get back to the dishes, but unfortunately Hongjoong seems to have no intention of allowing you to do any such thing and his reply comes through just as fast as the others.

You nearly drop your phone upon reading it, however.

I don't want to go with friends from the Akademiya, and I have no intention of remaining professionally appropriate, either. I think you liked the way I touched you back at the theater. Do you want to know what other ways I can touch you?

No. No, no, no. In your mind, at the forefront of everything, you repeatedly tell yourself that you cannot engage with this any further. That a conversation needs to be had with the Akademiya board about this, that you cannot keep indulging in this banter with him, because it's going to impede not only your ability to be professional, but also his ability to be a student. You're going to have to take this to administration Monday morning. This can't keep going on.

Beyond that thought, your thoughts wander to exactly what it is that he's implying. Recalling the gentle, tender ghost of his fingertips across your skin, his attentive gaze upon your form with every movement, every single thing that he had done in regard to you. Hongjoong has only ever given you his full, undivided attention—you can't help but wonder what that might be like when there is no barrier to the way his hands, or mouth, could be on you.

You must not reply quick enough for his liking, and that makes sense because a part of you has long since abandoned the want to continue partaking in the conversation at all. It's no good for you, and only going to get worse the more you respond. There's guilt there, because what if he feels terribly for having sent you such things—creepy, uncomfortable in the aftermath of never being met with a response—but the stronger part of you, the part that slowly has your own hand sinking down into the front of your jeans to alleviate some of the pressure that this has resulted in, can't be bothered to care. Regardless, another email from him comes across your inbox.

Are you thinking about it now? I'm thinking about it too.

The thought has you putting pressure into your fingertips, bottom lip caught up between your teeth as you close your eyes and picture it; his hands on himself, his hands on you.

You have no business indulging in this fantasy, but at the end of the day, it is just that. It's not real, and nothing has happened. You imagine your husband has probably shared similar moments of weakness—coming over his fist to the thought of having a colleague in a particularly fitted pencil skirt, no doubt. It's a human want, desiring the new, and even in some cases, desiring precisely the thing that we should not ever have.

Hongjoong doesn't email again, and in ways it leaves you high and dry—wanting but never reaching any particular point within the interaction. You wash your hands then stand idly in front of the sink, staring blankly into the tiled, back wall of the countertop and contemplating what, exactly, you're going to say to the administration board come Monday morning.

Less than the breaking through of light through the crack of the blinds, it's the feeling of your husband nesting his chin against your shoulder that wakes you back to consciousness in the morning.

Yeosang brings an arm up from behind you, tosses it lazily over your side to pull you tighter against his form. Lips drop chaste kisses to the exposed skin below them, and the reminder of his early morning attraction to you is felt firm and thick against you from behind.

And so, you lightly push back into him, reveling in the low groan that rumbles in his throat as a result of the motion. His kisses upon your shoulder turn slightly harder and paired with small nips of his teeth—the hand once against your stomach then traveling down beneath the sheets and settling between your legs.

"Good morning, baby," he says, just above a whisper and the morning gravel to his tone adding just that much more to the desire you carry for him. "Sorry for the late night, maybe I can make it up to you now?"

Practiced fingers rubbing into you, Yeosang continues pressing himself against you, hard and thick, slotting between your pressed together legs and shallowly driving into you as to simulate the turn that this morning can take. You moan lightly, melting into the touch. Desire creeping up through your veins at a rapid pace and pushing back timed just right to meet his motions halfway.

"You do kind of owe me," you answer back playfully, alluding to being left to fall asleep alone so many hours ago. "How do you intend to do that?"

Yeosang hums, thoughtful. "In theory, shouldn't I be at the mercy of your whims? Made to do whatever it is that you wish of me?" His hand slips away from between your legs then, instead moves between your bodies, positioning himself better for what's soon to come. "Or maybe I'll just take matters into my own hands. Flip you over, fuck you into the mattress where you belong."

Your groan is louder but still airy and sleep-carried at not only the words, but Yeosang's initial, slow drive inside of you. A strong hand moving to grip at your thigh—pry your leg apart just slightly to make space for him to fill you—it only takes a few, shallow strokes before he sits firmly planted deep within the warmth of you, though he doesn't sit still for much time before he withdraws equally long and slow, pushing in again and biting into the skin of your shoulder as you gasp out at the feeling of him having you.

"How's this for owing you?" he asks, though there's little genuine question in it and you know that. "How about I make you come around my dick, then we'll see who owes who."

Yeosang delivers a hard thrust then, punching the air and another whimpered moan out from your throat as you lean forward to clutch at the sheets beneath your bodies. His motions don't relent, settling into that pace for the foreseeable future—fingers gripping hard into the flesh of your thigh as he nearly pulls your body down and onto his cock with every drive forward.

"Fuck, Yeosang—"

"Yeah? Feels that good already?" he answers low, taunting. "Always know you're dying for it when I've got you moaning my name."

Repeated hard and long strokes of himself into your body that quickly send you teetering on the edge of release, Yeosang continues teasing you through it with his words—the sound of your bodies meeting quickly and in succession resounding through the otherwise silent room—and just when you feel your body pulling taut around him, whining and whimpering into the sheets below in desperation for him not to stop, to keep going, begging for more, harder, faster; Yeosang gifts you with just that.

"That's it baby," he says now, voice more pointed, domineering. "Come real good for me so I can fill you up just like you want—" teeth nipping into your skin again, teeth clenched when he stops to speak and fucks you even harder still, almost angrily in delivery both words and body. "Fuck my cum deep into you, get myself that baby I want after all."

It rattles you, but you're too far gone and within the throes of dirty talk, the filthiness of it still has you coming apart around him just like he wants from you. When your orgasm crashes over you, it has every nerve ending in your body firing off, skin on fire and burning at the spots in which he touches you as he continues to fuck you through it, and shortly after, empties himself inside of you with a deep, hearty groan too.

But the post-orgasmic bliss of it all wears off much quicker than under normal circumstances.

Your breathing steadies, body returning to normal fast and as a result, you're pulling away from him and creating space between your forms. When his softening length drops from inside of you and the subsequent leaking of what he's left spills out, you grimace at the feeling of it.

You don't say anything right away, but he must notice—knows you. The two of you have been here before, after all.

"What?" he asks, but his tone makes it evident that he already is well enough aware, and annoyed by your reaction too.

Part of you considers not bothering with answering him, little point to starting this fight, but he is your husband, and suppose he deserves at least that much.

"Seriously? Again with that?"

Yeosang doesn't say anything right away, which spurs your glancing back and over your shoulder at him.

He's smiling. Pleased.

"You didn't seem to hate the idea when you were coming."

"Yeah, because you were talking dirty to me and I enjoy having sex with you! It feels good! I love you! That doesn't mean it's free range for you to drag in all of our points of contention."

He rolls his eyes, turns to lie on his back. "All of our points of contention, as if there are any besides this one thing."

You have to fight back the laugh that wants to tear through you, it's like he's never heard anything you've been saying at all: in regards to a baby, in regards to his being gone all the time, in regards to your inability to nourish your desire for the arts. Nothing at all.

Instead, you pull yourself up from the bed entirely and make haste in getting dressed. You've got to get out of here, and more than that, you have to get away from him.

Yeosang's eyes remain on you as you throw items on your body. "I have to go to work," you say, and when you hear your husband huff out a laugh, you regret giving him even that much.

"Work," he repeats, plain. "I'm sure you have so much work to do."

That infuriates you more. The incessant unwillingness to take you or anything you do seriously so long as it doesn't involve him and his wants from you. You pull a light jacket from the closet, shrug it on fast, then walk back to the nightstand to grab your phone and hurry your way out of the room.

"Lemmie ask you something," Yeosang then says, voice still simple and unbothered in a way that infuriates you just that much more. Because of course he doesn't care, you'll come around for his desires just as you always do, he just has to wait it out a bit longer.

You stop in the doorway, turn to look at him, and don't bother masking the contempt etched into your face.

"Do you want to have a baby?"

Counting the seconds between the words leaving his mouth, and your response to him is simple enough. It's seven. Seven seconds is all it takes to come to your final conclusion.

"No."

And then you're gone.

So many reasons to go home, you instead ignore all of them in favor of staying late at the theater office.

You make up work that needs to be done. Door knobs that need to be polished and rooms that need to be vacuumed out despite just having done it not long ago before. Emails that probably need to be tended to though it's the weekend, and you've already answered the ones that had come in through the week.

A few hours into the dark quiet of the night, you consider that maybe you do need to finally go home. Confront your husband, have this conversation finally. You're not really ready to do that. You wonder if you ever will be ready to do that.

You wonder if this is what standing in the face of a divorce looks like—having told him the truth of how you're feeling now. Maybe Yeosang already has the papers drafted up. Maybe it takes longer than a few hours to get the papers drafted up. You don't know, it's your first potential divorce, after all.

But the idea of it, of dissolving your marriage to him and going your separate ways saddens you in such a distinct and visceral way that perhaps you'd lost sight of over the last few contentious weeks. A reminder that you love him, that you want to remain in this marriage to him—but you don't want to have a baby, not like this.

Memories of the horrible comments he has made to you in relation to it all then flood through your mind and you're filled with rage over them all over again. You try to remember a time back in college when he was so terrible to you like this, a red flag that you had missed, or maybe just ignored. You fail to locate one, but the anger that sits at your finger tips as a result of it itches in such a distinct and particular way that you have a difficult time setting it aside and being the bigger person about it.

A desire to cause harm, a craving to do to him as he has done to thoughtlessly to you.

Your phone vibrates then, pulls you from the thoughts about it all. Far from hoping to be greeted by a message from the man in question, you're instead shocked to find what it is that is awaiting you, having all but forgotten not only him, but what this evening is.

Last chance to come out tonight.

It's the only thing Hongjoong says. No flirtation, no additional commentary about what may or may not lie beneath the suggestion. A simple enough message, and because of that, suppose you find it easy to lull yourself into what may be a false sense of comfort in regards to the situation.

If only your husband knew. He would hate finding out about where you were going, and who with.

All the more reason to go.

You reply, tell Hongjoong to send you the address of where to meet and he does so quickly. Still, nothing extra added to the messages, so flat, in fact, that you consider the possibility of being entirely delusional about the exchange of messages the night prior. Maybe that never happened, maybe you had had a little too much to drink.

It's not hard to locate the email thread and scroll through the messages as they had been left to you, and no, you did not, in fact, have too much to drink last night.

You grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and head out down the red Aurelian halls towards the door.

Upon your arrival, you realize that you had not put thought into proper dress attire for this sort of endeavor—not that it had been planned anyway.

It's early enough in the evening that the crowd outside isn't that jam packed. People stand around in small pockets of peer groups, dressed somewhat similarly as if having presented a theme and wholeheartedly wanting to stick to it. The sight of it sort of endears you, makes you wish that that was something that you could partake in too.

Instead, here you are; oversized hoodie and a boring, black skirt that comes down about mid-thigh. Hardly sexy, hardly anything really.

You glance down at yourself, frown a little at what you have to offer. A few years back you probably would have really killed the scene at something like this, but now, this is all you've managed to bring to the table.

There's a run climbing its way up the side of your calf in your tights, and you can't help but think of it as an incredibly apt manifestation of everything.

"Hey."

Turning to face the voice, Hongjoong approaches you as he takes a final drag of a burnt down cigarette. Not a fan, but far from your place and you suppose it's not especially shocking, either. He's never smelled of smoke down at the theater, but more than this knowledge is the fact that he's more or less dressed just the same as you usually see him too. Tight, slightly ripped jeans, a simple shirt, and a jacket over top—only this one has more zippers, more buttons, more adornments that make it appear more him.

"I didn't know you smoke."

"I don't really, only socially, when I'm drinking," he replies, flicking it to the ground and crushing it under the heel of his boot. "Why? Don't like that?"

You shrug. "Not really up to me what you do, I'm not your keeper."

Hongjoong smirks, leans in a little bit closer to your face with those words. "Mmm, wouldn't you like to be though."

He leans back again just as quickly, as if never having said or done anything out of the ordinary at all. Looks you up and down for a second—judging, you consider—but any negative commentary never comes, and instead he nods towards the entrance to go inside.

"You ever been here?" he asks as the two of you wait behind only a handful of people at the door.

"No," you can't help but laugh. An asinine question. "I'm thirty."

"So? You can't have fun anymore when you're thirty? What's the age cut off? Or is it just that your husband doesn't want you getting out of the house too much anymore."

Hearing Hongjoong speak so clearly about Yeosang sends a spike of rage down your spine that you sort of don't expect. You want to bite back at the comment, though the truth in it and a reminder of what it is that he has said to you grants Hongjoong unknown reprieve from being on the receiving end of such.

"I just don't get out much anymore, not like this," you choose to reply. Somewhat true, in ways. You watch Hongjoong nod to the door guy as the both of you enter together and become swallowed up but the pitch black dark and loud, booming bass of the floor inside, forcing you to yell the remainder of your sentence to your company for the evening.

"No one to go with."

Hongjoong turns his head, looks you dead in the eye at that. Mischievous perk to the corner of his lips as he leans in so slowly, so pointedly, that a part of you thinks that he's going to kiss you.

"Guess I'm going to have to fix you then."

It's not lost on you at all, the verbiage of choice. Not a matter of fixing that, your outlook, your circumstances. No.

He's going to fix you.

An hour or so into the night and two drinks down, there's a loosening in your body that feels much needed after the prior events that still hang heavily over your head. The music is loud—so loud that you can feel it rattling through your bones—jarring in a way that feels new to you despite this not being your first time at a place such as this. Hongjoong seems content with allowing you to take the lead for the evening, and the two of you hang back in a corner of the open floor plan just next to the steps that lead upwards. He asks if you want to get another drink but you decline the offer, swaying to the electronic music as stand.

A few more moments pass, he leans in towards your ear once again. "Dance with me."

It's less of a request, more of a demand you realize, when you feel him slot himself behind you and a hand sets lightly against your waist. A part of you wants to protest the action, remembering the last time you allowed the man to be so close in proximity to you and what resulted from that. Tonight isn't supposed to go like that. Tonight is only meant to take the edge off of the looming problems that await you back home.

The alcohol certainly helps, fuzzy through your veins and electrifying his touch on you. Not long after, Hongjoong spins you so that you're facing him, hand coming up to hold you by the back of the neck and pulling you so closely to him that your foreheads meet and eyes settle harshly upon one another. In a brief moment of weakness, you remember the emails sent the night before; the implications, the understanding without explicitly being stated that they hold. A rush of excitement courses through you—you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be here with him.

Then you think of Yeosang, wonder what he's doing right now while you're out here, like this. Wonder if he's choosing baby names, wonder if he's going as far as to sabotage your birth control. You don't really know how far he's willing to go to get what he wants from you—his wife, his incubator.

At a place like this, with a man like Hongjoong, none of that matters. He wants nothing of the sort from you. Zero expectations of a role you're meant to be fulfilling for him.

You love your husband, but you also hate him for everything that he is putting you through.

Hongjoong's face slips past yours, mouth settling atop your ear instead. So close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over you, sending a shiver across your flesh.

"Stop thinking," he says against you. His other hand sits at your hip, though you can feel the burn of his fingers curling into you—the fabric of your skirt riding up your leg to expose more of it. "You can be whatever or whoever you want here. None of that other shit matters."

His lips slip down just a bit then, lightly trailing over the skin of your neck—almost nonexistent in the way that he touches you but still so sure of it that you allow your head to fall back, loll to the side with eyes closed to take it in. Hongjoong's teeth graze you, and it manifests in a vivid throb of arousal between your legs that you want more than anything to find the strength to ignore.

But you don't, not anymore.

You bring your head back up, look him in the eyes for just a moment before your lips crash against his, and he meets you eagerly, hungrily. Not missing a beat despite the neediness. No one is here to find you, no one is here to see this, and for all intents and purposes; it might as well not even exist. Not the kiss, not you, and not him. The hand cradling the back of your neck tightens in grip, pulls you harder against his mouth as teeth nip at your bottom lip like he's been waiting for this forever. Desperate for it, unwilling to allow you to escape it. You don't want to anyway.

Over the sound of your back meeting the firm mattress below, you barely have a chance to find your bearings—hear the sound of the front door closing and clicking locked—before Hongjoong is crawling over your form and pressing his mouth to every bit of exposed skin that he can manage to find. There isn't much, and this obviously frustrates him with the quickness in which he pulls you sitting, hurriedly peels off the sweatshirt that hides your torso from him, and tosses it somewhere on the floor of his quiet apartment.

He kisses you again, just as much neediness as before, and you meet him with just the same amount of vigor. Quick fingers unfastening the garment still hiding your chest from him, his mouth traveling downward then to press his mouth and tongue into the soft flesh that awaits him there.

You gasp out, back arching up and into him. Heat rushing to your head with every expertly placed swirl of his tongue, though it's lost quickly when he sits back onto his heels, grabs at you by the thighs and pulls your hips to the edge of the bed to settle himself between. It's dizzying intoxicating, everything happening so quickly that you can barely find it within yourself to keep up. When you're grounded enough, Hongjoong's fingers are already dug into the hem of your skirt, pulling it down your legs, and when your eyes meet his, he makes it a point to dig nails into the soft fabric of your already previously marred tights. Ripping them more as they cascade down to pool at the floor.

There's a protest that begins within you but dies out in almost an instant—the feeling of Hongjoong's tongue pressed into your folds destroying any chance the words had at escaping out into the air.

"Oh my God—" is what you do get out, and Hongjoong hums into your cunt in response to the lazy attempt.

Urgency courses through every movement, and it thrills you and sets your body alight. You understand it well, every thought put out of your mind except for him, the way that he's touching you, the way that he seems to crave your body in a way that you haven't quite experienced in so, so long. To be desired for exactly what you are, not what you could be—not for what you can give him in the future, even.

Hongjoong's fingers come up to meet his mouth, presses two inside of you slowly enough but the need is still sitting just behind the motion. You moan out loud at the feeling of him—any part of him—filling your body. Back arching again, hands coming down to curl into strands of hair that do not belong to the man who put a ring on your finger.

He sets a rhythm, brings you even closer to being drunk with visceral want for him. All you can think about is what's next, needing more, needing to feel more of him.

And it's as if he can read your mind, understand your body as it lies beneath his grasp as he pulls away; stands just long enough to strip himself of his jacket, his shirt. Can't be parted from you long enough to remove his jeans all the way and only gets far enough that the front is unbuttoned before he's pushing you up the length of the bed and slotting himself between your legs once more. Lips crashing down onto yours just like before, the weight of his body held to one arm while he works himself out of his jeans and you don't get any further warning than that before he sinks into you—slowing just enough in an effort to ease the sting of the stretch, but carving space inside of your body for him all the same.

You gasp out, his name somewhere in the sounds. His teeth find your neck as a hand finds one of your thighs you pull you open for him. Hongjoong's hips snap into you three, four times, and each time the air is punched out of your lungs, electricity raging through your body with every hard, thick drag of his cock inside of you.

He feels and looks like heaven when he pulls back enough to focus on the task at hand—a steady, rough rhythm as he fucks you hard, reveling in every whimper and moan and gasp that he drags out of you as he does so. Bottom lip tucked up between his teeth as he stares down at the way that you come undone beneath him. You want him. You desire him. You crave everything about him—most of all, the way that he craves you.

There's so much behind it, overwhelming in all ways. Another pained, desperate whimper falling from your lips as you reach out towards his face to bring him closer to you. He does, drapes himself over your body as he continues full, pointed drives that have him burying every inch of himself between your legs. You attempt words though it's much of a failure, but Hongjoong seems wildly attuned to the needs of you, your body—brings the hand not clutching at the flesh of your thigh up and into your hair as if to hold you there in place, his lips sitting at the shell of your ear once more to drive you just that much more wild.

"Anything you want," he whispers against you, a call back to an earlier conversation before things ever got this far. Not even all that long ago, either.

Your muscles tighten, contracting with the impending crash of your orgasm. You know what you want: to feel him like this for as long as you can manage to do so. His lips on your skin, his hands all across your body, the perfect, velvet drag of his cock against your walls—a desire to taste him, watch him come against your tongue—and perhaps even the filthy desire to be had by him, taken by him, in all of the other ways that people who engage in debauchery do. Even currently fucked by him, your mind wanders briefly to the thought of a hand tightly wrapped around your throat, and his cock embedded tightly in your ass.

Anything you want. What do you want? This?

"'m coming—" you gasp, the words barely even coherent enough to be understood, but Hongjoong is attuned to it, to your body in such an unfathomable way. Delivers into you harder, longer, more fulfilling strokes until you're whining and begging and nearly crying out as your release crashes down upon your body. Eyes rolling, crown of your head pushed back and into the mattress as your body arches up and against his own—orgasm ravaging you, claiming you for his.

Hongjoong hisses at the tail end of yours, two, three drives tip to hilt inside of you and then he buries himself deep to the point that it nearly pains you to have him so hard and heavy and be so full of him, but he holds you there—down and against him and in place as he empties inside of your cunt with a few pulsing, firm throbs.

The weight of reality crashes down much faster than you suppose you might have anticipated—if you were to have considered this to ever be an option that you would go through with.

Your stomach turns, chest clenches tight, and throat runs dry. Hongjoong kisses you on the mouth and that distracts you long enough—still melting into his touch—what you've done not enough to put you off of the man that has been your ultimate moral failing.

How did you get here? How did you allow this to happen?

It's in that moment that you hear the vibration of your phone from inside of your purse, left somewhere along the floor in the flurry of sexual deviancy. Hongjoong lies himself on top of you fully, holding you to the mattress as his lips find your neck and trail hot, wet kisses into the skin there, as if still in need of your body. As if just having had you moments ago not even close to enough to take the edge of his want for you off.

And it's just as intoxicating to you as before. Eyes closing, palms running up his back and nails digging into his skin as you feel him gently begin drives of himself inside of you once more. Softening, spent length still nestled against your walls, marred and marked with his cum even still as he shallowing fucks into you again.

"Ignore it," he whispers into your skin, teeth finding the flesh in a way that has you keening.

"I have to—" you start, finding all of the will inside of yourself to pull away just enough to locate the bag. Hongjoong once more pushes your back down against the mattress, continues his handwork on your body as you do whatever task it is that you need to do, unbothered by the fact. "It might be my—"

Hongjoong's head pops up from the crook of your neck just enough, the two of you making eye contact at your unwillingness to state the obvious. As if he's testing you, waiting to see if you're willing to say the word.

3 Missed Calls.

Terrors strikes through your bones at the sight, already knowing who from. The feeling of a hand slipping down between sweat-dampened bodies not enough to distract you—that is, until his fingers find and begin their work stroking circles against your clit.

"Hongjoong, I have to—"

His hips push forward, firmer once again. His cock hardened and fuller in the meantime and offering deliriously delicious friction that, when paired with the perfect press of his fingers just above the place where he remains buried inside of you, leaves you wildly unable to escape his hold.

"I'm not done with you yet."

You type up a text, send it off just as quickly and toss your phone back to the floor. Hongjoong swiftly changes your positions; lies himself back against the bed and pushes you up to be seated atop him. Body weight pushing him fuller into you, grinding yourself down harder in all of the ways that make your body feel like it's on fire as his hands once more travel your skin—nails digging into your hip, soft pads of his fingers ghosting over the supple flesh of your chest in just the way that has you arching and whimpering for more.

Over the breathy, quiet groan of Hongjoong from below you, you hear the quiet vibration of your phone receiving a message. Most likely from Seonghwa, because that is the person that your only message this evening has gone out to.

If Yeosang asks, tell him I'm with you. I'll explain tomorrow. Love you.

Only a few more perfect rolls of your hips, and Hongjoong has you unraveling for him all over again.

a/n: oh dear.

204 notes · View notes

vourequat · 3 months

Note

Yooo! Can you make a Ajax angst w/o a smut? Pretty pleaseeeee🥺🥺🥺🥺😣😣😣

AJAX ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ 𝑨 𝑵 𝑮 𝑺 𝑻— “what happens when loyalty outweighs love?”

WARNING: major character death, a bit of blood mentioned, horrid grammar as always, proof read finally but barely

(A/N: I had to make an OC for this then just scratched it out but who really cares anyways? This is from the Fontaine arc with the whole primordial water fiasco and I'm using it to its full potential by that I mean giving it a second of fame before never using it again.)

Nothing happens to those who keep their mouth shut.

That's what your mother had always reminded you ever since you were little, being born under the streets of the beautiful Fontaine and exposed to the criminal life ever since made you always stand on your toes, it was all a cycle of "if you saw something, you saw nothing".

Even if you had abandoned the criminal life ever since you freed yourself from the chains your mother had tied you onto to find a more legally accepted job in the court of Fontaine, it was still something you believed in wholeheartedly as you knew it was the only thing that'll keep you alive in all this chaos. Ever since you've heard that the Fatui has now plagued your nation, you found yourself back to your old ways; always having eyes everywhere, keeping everyone in a distance even the people you've known for so long all for the chance to live even with these threats to almost every life running around for the pursuit of an archon's power.

As you did your nightly walks around the perimeters of the book store you worked for before closing you saw a dark cloaked figure walk around the street, by your instincts instructions, you quickly hid behind a building as you kept quiet making sure to not alert whoever it was.

You watched it walk down the alley and a hand emerging from it, a vial with some sort of liquid inside being poured into the decorative plants and bushes on the side walks, you weren't exactly sure what it was but you were sure to just keep it to yourself whatever the circumstances were. If there was someone to snitch at this person it surely won't be you.

After that night, you began to get this frequent visitor who doesn't even buy a book. He just goes around the shelves and reads off of the clearance section for an hour before leaving. You were skeptical at first because this man just spawned out of nowhere and was now a daily customer but then again, the business of the people weren't yours.

You were busy unpacking the boxes of second hand books donated to the book shop when this same man approached you with a dashing smile that you immediately assumed he was here to flirt.

"Good morning, mademoiselle. I see that you're really busy with all these... do you happen to need any help?" The stranger offered.

You just watched him with a judging eye, eyeing him up and down for any possible falter to his faux persona if there was before speaking:

"Well... you're here everyday for five hours so why not, right?" You shrugged as you offered him a bit of the books meant for the clearance section as you took the well conditioned books into the counter to repackage into protective plastic.

You watched as he seemed to not mind doing any of your work for you, it was a bit confusing to watch especially with him not being an employee but just a customer. After all the books were all taken care of, you approached him to where he was seated and placed down a plate of sweet baked goods in front of him as you went back behind the counter to grab the tea you just made.

"Oh you didn't have to, I'm happy to have helped lift some responsibilities off your shoulders" The man smiled as he watched your subtle thank you through the food.

"I insist, please eat..." You said as you just sat there beside him.

It was quiet as he munched on a strawberry jam filled tart cookie, he took the tea pot covered in designs of snapdragons before pouring it into a matching cup. It seemed as if you were not the one to talk so he took upon the initiative and decided to participate in small talk.

"My name is Ajax... you are?" He held out his gloved hand towards you.

You stared at his hands, looking for any possible devices hidden underneath the glove. He seemed to have caught on as he retracted back his arm to take off his glove before going back for a handshake, his hand was calloused and rough from your view but at the same time they looked very warm.

Lifting your hand off your lap, you took his hand in yours as you slowly shook it.

"Y/N... just call me Y/N" you said before pulling back your hand to grab a book beside you as you started to read.

It was another silence, surprisingly, this silence wasn't one so uncomfortable that makes you move around and squirm but instead it felt like you could even sleep peacefully in this silence as the atmosphere didn't pressure you to say something or fill the wind with nonsensical talk.

"Hey, Y/N" Ajax called out as you hummed in acknowledgement, lifting your gaze off the book to look at him.

"I was wondering if you know any book about flowers and their meanings... I just wanted to learn about it and send secret messages to my sister, we used to have secret languages as kids but nowadays it seems that flowers are the best option since she loves flowers" He smiled bashfully at the mention of such a book that didn't seem to be the liking of someone so gruff looking like him.

You handed over a book that he was looking for, it was a bit weathered down by time but it was still readable and was one that actually contained the original meanings of each flower in existence. He started going through it carefully as he looked over the flower design on the teapot, "Snapdragons: deception and deviousness but also resembles grace and strength" He read out proudly.

There was such a meaningful innocence in the man's smile as he read the book with the intention of reconnecting with his sister, your eyes watered a bit as you wished someone cared for you like he cared for his sister to learn to better understand their likes to have something to talk about.

"Y/N, what are your favourite flowers?"

"Tulips— pink ones" you answered.

"Pink tulips are known for meaning affection, caring, good wishes, and love... well... you seem like that kind of person" He smiled once more.

You laughed awkwardly as you looked at him with a confused look, wanting to know what he meant by what he said.

"I-I meant like... like... umm... you seem like the person who would love tulips!" He said, trying to save him from embarrassment from his unsubtle flirtiness.

"H-How much is the book?"

"With its publication date, it's a classic... it's well loved with how worn out it is... but for you, as a token of friendship, I'll give it to you for free" You smile for the first time in months.

It felt awkward to smile again but to Ajax, your smile gave angels wings. It was as if everything stopped just for this very moment as the nymphs of the lake sang just for you, the wind blew tenderly and slowly through the plants outside just to have a glimpse of that smile of yours, the sun rays going through the large windows just to admire your smile— it was a perfect sight.

"Y-You want to be friends?" He asked, his face looking like a dog who was faced with delicious treats.

"Of course... you seem nice enough"

"I'll promise to be the bestest friend you'll ever have, I will help you whenever you need help from me and if you're hungry I'll bring you delicious snacks!" He blurted out. This man was the definition of sunshine, you loved how the usual nonchalant and rude filled city was slowly being plagued by nicer and a bit more out there foreigners.

Ever since you befriended this ginger haired lad you had never known quietness, though sometimes there were periods where he would just watch as you read or listen as you read out for the children who occasionally came by the book shop to listen to your voice and teach them how to read, he just loved to talk to you as he knew that you listen unlike the times he's with people who just brush him off by putting a show and pretending to listen to him.

"I miss my home..." He pouted as he lounged about the couch placed just near beside the large window of the now closed book shop, it was nighttime and you could now count the people who passed by with your fingers.

"What's stopping you from going home?"

"Work" he sighed as he munched on a cookie made to look like a chrysanthemum. He used to babble about how he finally knew the outcome of something in a book just by the flowers that were mentioned, how the chrysanthemum flower spoiled the coming death or end of a relationship in the book he read.

"What do you do for work?" You ask as you placed down the book in your hands.

He thought for a second, you had been friends for quite a while so he thought how you'd probably accept him for whatever he was... but not right now.

"An adventurer, I can't really leave if I wanted to since I have a lot of commissions to attend to in this nation" He lied.

That confrontation made you a little bit more distant to him than usual, he knew you liked your personal space but this was just too much avoidance. Ever since you found out that he was just passing by and was only here in Fontaine for a while made you trust him less, made you see him in a different light that puts him in the category of people who you're most likely to push away.

It was another day at the book shop but this day wasn't like any other, you were huddled with a bunch of orphaned children who roamed the streets and children who lived in the sewers like you once were. The Fatui just decided to wreak havoc in your nation now that they couldn't get their hands on the real gnosis as they found that the archon seen everyday at the oratrice mechanique d'nalise cardinale wasn't the real deal but a mortal posing divinity.

But before you could shut down the power to make your workplace less likely to be raided by Fatui guards, you saw Ajax come in, you two were now running back to the sewers along with the children.

"They're safer here now... the Fatui passed by these sewers already" He assured as he helped you make fire to keep the children warm alongside the adults who survived the raid.

"I have to go back up..." Before he could leave, you pulled him by his arm making him stop and look back at you.

"I'm coming with you..." This made his eyes widen.

"W-What? N-No... it's dangerous up there...!" He reasoned.

You didn't actually want to get involved in all of this but seeing your friend willing to go in the front lines for a nation he wasn't even born in and a connection with you wanted to do something for your motherland, he was your friend too.

"You're not stopping me... this is my nation and I will protect it!" You insisted.

"Stop just stop... please... it's dangerous up there"

"I can fight... I have to fight for these children...I can—"

"Why don't you just let me do this for you, for once why don't you let yourself trust me?!" He blurted out causing you to flinch back from him suddenly raising his voice.

"You think I haven't noticed? Not even for once you trusted me... for anything... are we even friends?" He added.

"Ajax, I'm—" Before you could finish, he had already left.

Ajax stood beside his colleagues, fighting off any mekas that stood their way. He was in the middle of fighting off a bunch of gardes when he saw a bunch of Fontainian people screaming and running as he saw waters slowly rise and flooded the streets, he saw how some of them make contact with the water and immediately disappear into thin air, he knew you would be safe as you had told him that you were most likely from outside of Fontaine but then again, you were with pure Fontainians.

He ran back to the sewers but before he could dive in he was already greeted with the sewers filled to the brim with the same water that dissipated all of these Fontanians he just saw earlier, he just hoped to whoever was listening to him that you all had managed to flee before the flood.

He went back to the front lines and soon found his way in the ship that the Fatui had readied for this very event that was written in the books of the Fontainian archives, he was going to go back for you he promised to himself but then he saw your figure as lightning flashed by. He thought you were actually there but he was just hallucinating you being there, he stood up and went outside to take a breath of fresh air.

"Liar..." His heart dropped, he thought he was hallucinating your voice as well but when he turned around he saw you.

"Y-Y/N? Oh my god... Y-You're safe!"

He was about to approach you but you immediately tackled him into the ground as you held a broken glass shard close to his throat.

"You pleaded for trust... now you've completely broken it!" You cried out as you tried to drive the shard to his throat but his hand kept you from doing so.

"W-What're you talking about?"

"You said they'd be safe down there... I left to go after you but they all drowned!" You sobbed as you only saw the clothes of the children floating around as you opened the cover of the manhole that connected with the sewers.

He flipped the both of you, you were now below him as he restrained your hands from hurting him accidentally or intentionally.

"I-I didn't know...!" He knew, he just knew that either way these children wouldn't survive from both the flood of prophecy and the wrath of the Fatui so he just let the children die a peaceful death.

You used your legs and arms to push him off as you stood up, the blood dripping from your hand from how hard you've held onto the glass shard.

"Drop that... you're hurting yourself!" As you stood there enraged, the other Fatui guards alarmed by the sudden commotion entered the dock along with the harbinger Arlecchino.

"You lied to me... you knew they would die there... and you lied about your work, Ajax... if that even is your name" You laughed.

Arlecchino gestured towards the guards and they immediately followed her as they swarmed you to hold you back, Ajax just watched, he looked towards Arlecchino silently telling her to not hurt you in any way.

"Do you know how to swim?" Ajax began.

"What? Of course I do...?" And with that, he gestured to the guards to throw you off the ship but you tried to get yourself out of their grasp.

"This is better for you, you're not Fontanian so you're safe... this ship is going to war so I'd rather have you down there than up here, there's ships down there of Fontaine so just yell for help" He adviced.

"N-No... Ajax no, please..." You pleaded, shaking your head.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him, "This is safer for you..." he then pushed you off as you fell from their sky ship towards the sea beneath you.

He watched as you fell down and as soon as you made contact with water you sinked in, he was waiting for you to emerge from the water but it's been a minute and there was still no sign of you.

"Oops... forgot to tell you" Arlecchino chimed in.

"Whilst you were making sure she didn't speak about us poisoning the bushes... I set out our men and found out that she lied to you... They're pure Fontanian"

That revelation made his heart drop to his feet as the waves below him began to slow down— he killed you.

He fell down to his knees as he watched his gloved hands that both welcomed you into his life and removed you from it, he couldn't believe that he lost you... he's lost so much, you made him see that not everything is easy to get but it will always be worth it and he lost you too.

"Come on... go back to sleep" Arlecchino spoke out as she began to walk away.

Ajax stood up and leaned into the railings of the ship as his tears fell down, for years he thought that these tears were reserved for his family but why was he now crying for someone he just met three months ago?

"Please... please get out of the water... please!" He screamed from the top of his lungs, denying the fact that you too had now dissipated like the others he saw.

"Ajax... go back to sleep" Arlecchino said sharply as she pulled him by his arm and threw him forward to walk back to the rooms in the ship.

"You knew these people had no future... whether they die in our hands or to the prophecy... they're still going to die" Arlecchino added before shutting the door to his room shut leaving him in utter despair all alone in this cold dark room.

He killed you thinking he was going to save you.

BONUS:

He watched as the cemetery was flooded with people who survived the flood, now mourning their loss now that the waters had now cleansed the land of its sins.

He approached a certain tomb, one with an aged picture of a child smiling brightly with a name engraved into the stone. He set down a bouquet of your favourite pink tulips as he sat down in front of your grave, it hurt a lot more knowing that there was no body to bury but at least with this you would still be remembered.

"Y/N... my name is Ajax, it's my real name... I didn't find it in myself to just give you my codename... I just felt like I could be myself with you..." He began to speak as he tried to stop his tears from falling.

He grabbed the framed picture that your boss had placed down and admired it, this was a smile he would miss, a face he'd miss to see.

You were the only friend who had actually cared for him, you didn't trust him enough but he could understand where you were coming from but what he couldn't believe was how he still let his loyalty to the Tsaritsa ruin your blooming relationship with each other.

He couldn't believe that his blood oath to the cryo archon had harmed the people you love and had been the reason that this grave was for a young person— a grave with no body to mourn.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin childe #childe x reader #genshin imagines #genshin angst #angst #send me asks #send anons

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