#<- receiving visions <- bearing the curse

[dirtbra1n]

looked at these parts again and now I can’t get up. I’ll get to it. anyway in the meanwhile Does anyone wanna talk about sasaki’s roots growing out

#[head in hands] [groaning] #<- receiving visions <- bearing the curse

[kaicubus]

Hidden in the Trees | Karaku

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warnings ✩° : 18+ smut, cunnilingus, a pinch of degrading, mostly praise, demon sex, size difference, overstimulation!receiving, some masochism!receiving, consensual sex, cursing.

pairing ✩° : karaku x fem hashira!reader

premise ✩°  : after escaping the fourth upper moon hantengu, you find yourself running into a forest with what seems to have no exit. with no other way to go, you're forced to face the strangest of the demon clones, the pleasure demon.

word count ✩° : 4.2k

authors note ✩° : yippee another one down!! 2/4 look out for the rest...trying to get them all down in a timely fashion plz bear with me!!

©kaicubus do not steal

part one here!

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Was this the same demon from before? There was no way. The demon standing in front of you looked pleasant. Still, demon like, with thick veins pumping cold blood around his eyes and a plum-like color darkening his under eyes and forehead. What irked you most was that this clearly was one of Hantengu’s clones, but it looked nothing like who you saw before. This one, was attractive, almost, with a much more muscular built and tall stature. Now, he looks like a worthy opponent, all in all which terrifies you. Was he really the same demon who was crawling on the ground before?

You shift your feet into an instinctive kill mode, feet planted firm into the ground below, your movements making crunching noises against the plethora of dry leaves. You gain awareness of all the trees surrounding you two, the green of their lushness flurrying down. It’s an uncanny sort of feeling. For some reason, even when faced with one of the most powerful ranked demons, the setting around you was eerily calm. Not just the way the leaves fall slowly and the wind just barley picks up, but the demon who stands before you seems like he has already won the battle that hasn’t even started yet.

You stare at the green eyed demon with a murderous glint in your eyes and thinly pressed lips, mentally preparing for the worst. But, instead, the worst doesn’t happen. Rather than harvesting your life, you hear a lowly chuckle almost gurgle out of the demon’s throat, paired with a loud thumping noise start to approach you, slow enough to notice the horrible sinking feeling in your gut but too fast for you to do anything about it. With every step closer, the demon’s smile grows, watching as you move backwards right into the thick trunk of a tree.

You look back, then back at him, feeling a cold sweat start to form on your brow, mostly from confusion as to why this demon is so calm. He doesn't even look like a demon, and certainly doesn't look human. With your shoulders square, you back into the tree even more and hold your sword further in front of you, not being able to hide your shakes as the shirtless figure is now standing over you.

As the shadow of the night leak through the thick foliage of the trees above, the dark markings on this clone’s face make him even more spine chilling. He’s so close,

“And you thought I wouldn't catch up. You managed to lose me back there.” The demon speaks, holding his square shoulders up low, almost relaxed like. “I’ve fought humans before, but, I didn't think anyone could ever outrun me. I’m impressed. You have my attention.”

Have his attention? In what world would you ever want his attention? You wanted to scream at him, rip his head off with your bear hands, end this, and go home, but the demon in front of you clearly isn't taking you seriously.

“Is this a game to you?!” Your shoulders tense, anger piquing as you grip onto your sword handle more.

“To me, of course. But to you, it might be a bit more scarier than a game.” The demon in front of you draws his claws up to your chin and raises your face up to his unmatched, demonic height. The dark emerald green color fills your vision and that’s when you finally realize which clone of Hantengu’s he is.

“Karaku.” You mutter under your breath. Karaku, the demon clone who possesses the pleasure emotion of his host. You always thought that out of all the emotions Hantengu could have, pleasure was surely the weirdest one. That said, you didn’t know what you were up against, in fact the thought alone of what pleasure entailed made you nearly weep with all the gruesome feelings imaginable. But you hold your ground.

Karaku smiles slowly at you, his head tilting down and even closer to you, nearly enough to kiss you. Despite what you think, there’s no seemingly malicious bone in his body. Yet at least.

“That’s right. You know who I am. That’s good. Now, could I ask what a demon slayer like you is doing alone? And with no sword, that’s kind of like your whole thing right? You wave around a sword and slice my head off, right?” Karaku shifts his hand onto his face, curling his cold fingers on his cheek, “With no sword...and clearly no ability to actually fight me. You’re useless. Right? That makes this fun.”

You look down at your sword, confused, but suddenly feel a harsh gust of wind blow your way, knocking you off your feet.

There’s only a second from that to the moment where your back hits the ground and your sword is thrown out of your hand. Upon impact, you close your eyes and throw your crossed arms over your face, fear stinging your senses, before you open your eyes again to see the demon directly on top of you. The demonic look in his eyes is enough to make you shriek, just before he lunges down with his mouth open.

With a grunt, you kick the center of his chest, only managing to blow enough air to thrust his charcoal black hair off his shoulders. Your efforts amuse the sick entity, reflecting in a cynical grin accompanied by a squinted smile of the demon. Still, you grit your teeth and continue pushing on his firm, muscular chest. The least you can do is try to survive as long as you can before someone finds you. Surely anyone can recognize you're gone and will come search for you. Right?

“Was that supposed to hurt?” Karaku chuckles hoarsely, “Because it was more pleasant than I expected. Maybe I am stronger than I thought. That’s nice.” His smile deepens. “Don’t you realize how easy it is for me to overpower you, and kill you? I could tear you open, drain your blood, and eat your flesh in seconds. And you think a measly kick can stop me?”

With his hand straddling your ankle, you mentally curse at the undeniable realization that you can’t even get out from his grasp.

“Say, I never caught your name. What was it, hashira?”

Your eyes quickly glance down at his position, how his legs are properly situated between your trembling thighs, ankles quivering at the demon above you, yet he remains calm and stares, waiting for your response.

So you swallow all your anxiety and answer. “Y/n. My name is Y/n.”

“You’ve come to kill me? Right?” Karaku inches closer, revealing his elongated teeth poking out from his warm lips. A chill runs down your spine. He’s already thinking of eating me. “Hey, right?”

“Yes!” You grit your teeth and remind him who has a foot pressed against him, shoving the bottom of your shoe into him harder. Karaku doesn’t pay any mind to it though. He knows you’re trying to gain the upper hand, it’s a game he knows all too well. But he’s tired of fighting, and for once he deserves a break from killing and eating human flesh. Well, not entirely the second one. Being the most relaxed clone of Hantengu, it’s easy for Karaku to analyze situation and step back when he needs to. He feels no sympathy for his victims, yet the experiences they give him fulfill him so much more than any killing could. Even if sometimes he can kill two birds with one stone.

Your eyes dart around his face. You can’t even tell what he’s thinking with such a relaxed expression. But Karaku quickly reaches for the inner side of your ankle and tugs you closer to him.

“You know...” Karaku says, just barley above a whisper, “A hashira shouldn't be so worked up meeting me. Wouldn't wanna worry your pretty head, I’m just a big scary demon is all. I don’t want to hurt you.” His hands skitter up your ankle all the way to your thigh, rubbing methodically in wide circles just to avoid suspicion. With a tainted grin, Karaku’s hand travels up your skirt, pushing the pleated fabric out of the way. Before you can protest or kick him further, it finally clicks in your mind that you had no safety shorts or shorts at all protecting under your skirt. As the demon corps uniform protocol calls for, all you have on is your skirt and your panties underneath, which in this moment serves as a great disadvantage to your dignity.

Quickly, you buckle your knees together, making a quick bucking sound from your kneecaps clashing, followed by a small wince after. This in turn, piques Karaku’s interest and the devilish grin you've grown so fond of returns once again.

“Of all the things...” Karaku says giddily, “Of all the things you choose to protect. That’s, your main concern? What are you hiding from me, puny hashira?”

You feel your throat close. Just as you’d hoped to keep your life by protecting yourself, you’d failed to distract him from possibly the most insignificant worry you had suddenly realized. Now he was intrigued and now there was no way out of his curiosity.

Karaku’s claws move up your skirt further, now not pulling you into his chest, but rather peeling back the fabric akin to selfishly unwrapping a present not meant for him, revealing a pair of tight, white underwear. The best part?

There’s a wet spot smack center in the middle, all for Karaku to see and instantly take notice in. When his eyes dart to your entrance, you feel your soul leave your body. There’s no denying the attraction you’d felt to Karaku before, but you never would’ve guessed that it resulted in this. Still, you hold your breath and stare up at him, knees now separated and your face dripping with sweat. Karaku on the other hand, parts his lips, revealing his elongated canines and a raised brow, perplexed yet interested. He lets out a soft chuckle as his rough hands turn soft with feather like touches around your waist.

“Hm, that’s strange.” Karaku says, eyes widening owlishly with curiosity, “I haven’t even done anything…and yet…” he prods a finger forward and touches lightly on the front of your underwear, pressing down on the darkened wet spot growing larger by the second. You look away shamefully and mumble incoherently under your breath, too embarrassed to look the demon in his green eyes as his smile widens from ear to pointed ear. “You’re wet right here. That means you like me, huh?”

“W-Wait—” You stare helplessly at Karaku rubs his thumb over your clothed pussy, swirling the slick underneath the thin layer of cotton. Instinctively, your hips jerk forward and you find yourself gasping for air, not out of fear, but out of pleasure. It’s strange, but Karaku only smiles, his expression turning almost lovingly as he leans forward and closes the gap between you both. With his lips on yours, you feel his tongue push past your locked teeth and glide right under yours, licking every surface of your mouth.

“Mm! Mhh!” You squeeze your eyes tighter and attempt to grab hold of his wrist, failing in the process and only making the position more intimate as Karaku lowers his position onto you. When he breaks the kiss, it doesn't take long before his hungry and curious lips find another curve of your body to settle on, marking his territory all the way down to your chest, unbuttoning your uniform with his teeth, and to your skirt, where he tears that off too, and finally settling right in between your plush, doughy thighs. All the way, your breathing deepens, skin glowing red at this point, not sure what he’ll do next.

“We don’t need all those anymore, I need to see your lovely figure for me to be satisfied. Doesn’t the air feel nice, Y/n?” The demon strokes your sides with the tip of his claws, tracing lines into your untouched skin. His mind reels at your warmness, the way your blood rushes inside your body, and how he gets to feel and experience it all up close. Emerald green shimmers into your glossy eyes, and his silky, raven hair makes his demonic appearance all the more alluring, especially in such a delirious state.

“M-Mhm...” A breathy whine spills from your throat as soon as you feel his cheek press against the side of your inner thigh, his tongue soon following. You hadn't noticed it before, but now looking at it, you notice how the top of his tongue spells ‘pleasure’ in kanji.

Warm lips press against the side of your inner thigh, prying your legs open for the demon’s viewing, gently spreading your exposed cunt to him more and more. Every bone in your body tells you to stop him and kill him in fear of enjoying this too much, and yet, you watch him discover the most vulnerable part of you up close.

As if he can read your mind, Karaku looks back up to you and smirks, “Aren’t you going to tell me to stop? I don’t sense any displeasure coming from you, puny human, does that mean you want me to keep going?” Karaku says lowly, awaiting your answer.

“N-No...I-I don’t, I don’t want you to stop...” You say without thinking. That was all he needed to continue, and before you could get an understanding of what you just said, Karaku’s mouth finds your entrance and latches onto you very quickly.

You hadn’t even noticed he’d taken off your underwear a while back until you feel the heat of his branded tongue graze on the surface of your cunt, spooking you just a bit before your shoulders soften and your neck loses its structure.

Using his puckered lips, Karaku presses a soft kiss against your entrance, at first lightly. He kisses again, and again, until his welcoming kisses become more passionate and messy, all introductory formality being lost in his simmering curiosity. He’d never ate pussy before, though you could hardly tell, so naturally he’s very attentive to catering to your needs, looking up at you every chance he gets or as soon as he feels you twitch.

“H-Hah...wait just a minute...” You push your palm to his forehead to stop him, but stop instantly as Karaku presses your legs together, resulting in pushing himself further into you. The heated oral muscle greets you again, as well as the head rushing feeling of pure ecstasy. An ecstasy you're too ashamed of admitting you like.

“I’ve never tasted anything like this before.” Karaku says in between licks, “It’s so warm, and pleasant. I can’t help but wonder, isn't there a way to get more wet stuff out of here?” He purrs. Answering his own question, Karaku lowers his head and closes his eyes just enough so that only the tops of his lashes can be seen. You stifle out a struggled moan and shudder, hands curling into your messy clothes beneath you. Karaku continues to greet your dewy folds with his curved tongue, licking down on your sex and gathering up all the slick he can harvest on his tongue.

“A-Agh...W-Why don’t you just k-kill me? That’s far less embarrassing than—thIS!” You throw your head forward shamefully as Karaku’s tongue plunges deeper inside you, almost as if he’s telling you to stop talking. “K-Karaku!” Making a loud slurping noise, the demon pulls away and pants puffs of hot air onto your cunt, admiring the sheer glossiness it now has.

“You taste so good…delicious.” Karaku’s words are muffled as his mouth returns to your heat, pressing his branded tongue flat on your drooling pussy. Even if you tried moving away from him, it was no use. His fingers are practically embedded into your flesh, sharp claw-like fingernails drilling you and nearly drawing blood. You can hardly focus at the pain as Karaku licks bold stripes along your center, occasionally flicking the tip of his tongue faster than anything you’ve felt in your life. There was certainly no way to stop him.

“Karaku!” You whine, hips bucking in every which direction imaginable, “Karaku p-please!” It didn’t matter if you came once, twice, or even three times, with the speed of which he’s going, it’ll be impossible to pry him off your clit. That, and he just doesn’t want to.

“Is the puny hashira begging for me? Me? Oh, that makes me so fucking happy.” Karaku flashes his emerald green eyes back up at you, peeking up from in between your legs. “And I thought I’d never hear the words ‘please’ come out of your mouth. I guess I’ll take ‘p-please’ mh~!” Even though it’s wrong, even if this moment is frowned upon by any sane person, you can’t help but feel butterflies swarm inside the deepest parts of you, reminding you that no other person—or entity for that matter—has made you feel such pleasure. A red hue floods to your cheeks and you lean your head back, unable to withstand more than a seconds of eye contact.

Even just looking at you turned Karaku on. More than he’d like to admit. The sight of your head thrown back, mouth hung open, hair tangled and messy from the previous encounter, and now your ripped black and white uniform hanging off your shoulders, exposing your chest all to him. He relished in it all. Mostly, the feeling of being absolutely buried in your pussy, his nose poking the hood of your clit each ravenous grunt he makes to get closer to you.

Your eyes roll back as Karaku extends his tongue to fully show the kanji that says, ‘pleasure’ and presses it flat against your entrance, making a ‘slop’ sound before ravishing your wetness. Again and again, Karaku slurps at your cunt, using his huge, calloused hands to move your waist and body up and down on his mouth. One wrong move and he would surely scrape his teeth against your sensitive flesh. Unintentionally. Still, that didn't stop you from wiggling closer to him, pushing your wet pussy further into his mouth.

“Just relax,” Karaku giggles, “You like it, huh? Makes you feel good~” He slurs, ears perking up at all the soft whimpers flowing out of you, “Good girl, just like that, open wider for me.”

“H-Hngh! Karaku—NGH!” You groan breathlessly and press your legs together onto the sides of his face. His pointed ears poke into the insides of your thighs and you can’t help but want more of it. There was no way where you would have ever predicted that inhuman features like pointed ears, prodding canine teeth, and horns would ever make you feel anything other than hatred. But Karaku makes you forget it all.

You feel yourself getting hotter as Karaku doesn’t look away from you, the kanji in his eyes burning into yours, not moving an inch since when he started. There was no telling what he was thinking in his head, but the thought of all of it was making your mind go brainlessly numb.

With another bold lick, Karaku flutters his tongue in the pool of your juices, drawing a string of saliva and cum from your entrance and looking at you with a completely feral expression. “You don’t let up, do you?” He chuckles, “C’mere, puny hashira. Be a good human for me and let me taste you again, yeah? You’re so pretty...I can’t help myself, I’m getting so excited.” Karaku hums in amusement.

“Ah, hah, ah! Karaku-uh!” Your cunt continues to pulsate, growing wetter each time he suckles on your folds, wanting so desperately to please you and hear his name fall harder this time from your lips. A hashira, getting fucked out by a demon. Your mind runs rampant. All the sounds you make are practically drowned out by Karaku’s attention on your clit, gradually fucking you on his tongue and nudging his fangs against your velvet entrance, reminding him that you’re not like him and sooner or later you’re going to burst. He smiles at the thought.

A hand flies to his head and bumps into his horns, finally something to grab onto, and you suddenly get a rush of sanity back and cling onto the boney material with all your might. While it’s just to push him back for even just a second, Karaku takes the opportunity to gasp for air, now giving you a chance to look at him in all his clouded glory. His lips are red and shiny from your arousal, mouth slightly open and puffing out a mixture of his own breath and the scent of suffocating sex on his branded tongue. You can tell he’s not thinking of anything else but finding new ways to satisfy you by the hazy look in his eyes. The color almost matches the leaves above. Fitting.

“Karaku, j-just slow down before I—” The words die on your tongue as soon as Karaku pushes back your hold on his horns and dives in between your legs once more.

Like he’s getting high off the taste, his tongue laps again at your sex, squishing your sensitive flesh down with every messy lick he makes.

You begin to wail as Karaku pushes his tongue deeper inside of you, easily finding your sweet spot and abusing it with all his strength and stamina. The warm touch of his tongue along with his now rose-wet lips pressing against your entrance draws out more lewd sounds from you.

Trying to breathe, Karaku doesn’t let up and only continues to swirl his tongue on your soaked cunt, occasionally dipping into your pussy to taste you deeper. “Mm, more more more.” He chants into you. As soon as your knees start to buckle in pure ecstasy, Karaku holds them apart and opens more of your legs to suck more and more, driving you practically insane.

By now, you're too dazed to even realize how much Karaku had done, and how much of a mess you are now. So focused on the acute surges of pleasure running through your body with every little curl of his tongue or slurp of his wet lips on yours. What once was a soft, sheepish voice soon became a high-pitched cry in a matter of seconds. Pleasure rolls through your body with the overwhelming knowledge that you could sense your own high.

It almost doesn't feel real. At the hands, or rather, mouth of a demon, it just doesn't feel right. But it feels too fucking good to ignore. Karaku is completely engulfed in the taste of you, sucking on your clit harder now, with his claws biting into the plushness of your thighs to be closer to him, just to fill the insatiable hunger he possesses. “Karaku!” His name comes out as a warning, trying not to give in, “K-hh! Wait wait wait! Karaku I-N-NGH!” Just then, you jerk your head back, no longer wishing to hold back anymore, and allow his name to run freely, “Karaku! H-Hngh!” When his name leaves your lips, so does all the built up pleasure inside your body, and as if a bolt of lightning stroked inside of you, you feel the rush begin to surge. Keeping his eyes on you, you feel the demon smile widely as he quickens his pace, licking up all the wetness from leaking out of his reach.

“That’s good,” Karaku purrs and kisses your clit, not planning on stopping you from cumming all over his tongue, “Keep going...don’t stop, puny hashira.” When he pulls away, not going too far, you're met with the bitter cold of the night, hips instantly shivering from the loss of his touch.

Coating the inner walls of your thighs, and even trickling down to the fabric of your uniform placed under you, Karaku watches as arousal spills out from you, all from just his tongue. The sticky, almost briney, fluid pools on your pinkish, glistening folds, making your heart leap out of your chest as you gasp in short breaths of air. Karaku laughs at the warmth leaking onto his finger and taps the softness of your clit, amused by the tiny jerks and twitches of you and your hips, trying to ride out the aftermath of your climax. “Ah...ah...ah...” You groan and roll your hips back.

“You’re so pretty, Y/n. I wish you came here sooner. Instead of being a demon hunter, you could’ve came here to me and I’d eat this pussy out all the time.” He says, cupping the outside of your thigh. “Wouldn't that be nice...being here with me, right?” He flashes a curious look at you, to which you can’t help but look away in shame anymore. His nose, lips, and chin are all soaked in your juices, and even if he doesn’t seem to mind and even likes it, you can’t shake the feeling that he was able to do so much for you.

Your heavy lidded eyes look up at him, panting uncontrollably, “Karaku...I’m so tired...” your words make the demon freeze, but very quickly turn into a wide smile. He does his best to lick all the cum off his face, even using his fingers to suck off your arousal, laughing a bit at your blissed out expression. Instead of leaving you behind, Karaku sits up with you in his arms, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before leaving your clothes in the dirt.

“Come on, don’t fall asleep now. We still have much to do, puny hashira. I can’t wait to experience new things with you.”

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[aerynwrites]

Fear of Losing You

Dammon x GN!Reader

A/N: Had this idea and realized it would work perfectly as a part 2 to Emeralds! I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: angst, talks of death, fear of death, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, Dammon is once again a sweetheart and I love him.

Part 1

His screams are the only thing you can hear. 

His screams among the dozens of others filling the air. You can’t even see what’s happening, darkness filling your vision as you search blindly for him. 

“Dammon!” 

You scream his name, desperate to find him, but it only echoes around you, never receiving an answer. 

Swords clashing, more screaming, the iron tang of blood flooding your tongue. 

What’s happening? Where’s Dammon? What’s going on?  

A frantic call of your name has you spinning, that blackness nearly suffocating you as you search blindly for the man calling your name. 

He sounds scared. He sounds scared and hurt and you can’t see anything- 

Another call of your name is what finally jerks you awake, the all consuming blackness giving way to the familiar darkness of nighttime at camp. 

You’re shaking, sweat making your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin as you take in your surroundings. 

Gale sits in front of you on your bedroll by the fire, brows pinched in concern as he gazes at you. His hand on your shoulder squeezes gently as you try to get your bearings, your other companions looking on in worry. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Gale says softly. “Are you alright?” 

You nod your head, bringing a shaking hand up to rest against your forehead.

“I’m fine I…” you shrug his hand off. “Something just feels…wrong.” 

“Such is the way of the shadow cursed lands,” Halsin says from across the fire, arms crossed pensively over his chest. “The shadow magic here affects more than just the creatures it creates. I’m sure when we reach Last Light, we may find some solace.” 

You nod despite the deep pit of anxiety settling in your stomach. 

“Yeah…you’re probably right.” 

You give a small thanks to Gale before laying back down and turning your back to the fire, knowing no sleep will come to you. Not with the fear of those terrible screams returning.

When morning comes, you’re already on your feet and gearing up for the trip to Last Light. You’d spent most of your sleepless night finding the best route to the inn the Harper’s had marked on your map, and once everyone was ready, you head out. 

You had tried all night to ease the pit of dread that formed in your stomach, but nothing helped. 

It’s as if you could sense that something was wrong. Something more than the evil that cursed these lands. And your mind would not stop going back to that dream. To Dammon’s screams…

“Oh, gods…”  

Shadowheart’s murmured gasp pulls you from your thoughts and the map you are currently looking at, coming to a stop as the group does. You’ve barely blinked when the map falls from your hands, utter fear gripping your heart as you see what caused even the sharran to pause. 

It’s the refugees. The tieflings from the grove. 

Dozens of them lay slaughtered in an open field in front of you, and before you can think better of it, you’re darting towards the massacre and out of the safety of the light Karlach holds. 

You faintly registered muttered curses and calls of your name as your companions chase after you, but you don’t care. All you can do is scan each body you pass, hoping and praying with each one that you don’t see his body among them. 

You see dozens of faces, some familiar and some not, but you know for certain they were from the grove. And with each one you find that isn’t Dammon you feel equal parts relief and dread. 

Until your eyes land on an all too familiar green scarf caught in the branches of a bush on the side of the path. It flutters weakly in the bitter breeze constant to these cursed lands, the only source of color besides the blood soaking into the ground. 

You stumble over towards the item slowly, reaching out and clutching the soft material between shaking fingers. Pulling it free form the tangled branches, you hold the fabric up to your nose, confirming what you already know. 

It’s Dammon’s. 

It still smells like him. Like burnt metal, smoke, and the subtle sweet spice cinnamon.

A cry works its way past your lips before you can stop it, and Shadowheart just barely manages to catch you before your knees buckle. 

“He’s…it’s Dammons,” you tell the others, tears already wetting your lashes. “They…they’re all dead.”  

The last word is choked out and you can feel a torrent of tears ready to follow, but Karlach steps forward, getting down on one knee beside you. 

“Don’t lose hope,” she says, voice firm. “He isn’t here, you looked remember? We haven’t found him yet, and this-“ she gestures to the scarf in your hands. “He could have gotten away.” 

You nod as her words sink in, the fear subsiding ever so slightly, but still gripping your heart. 

“Y-yes I suppose…” you trail off, looking back down at the scarf in your hand before wrapping it tightly around your knuckles. “We should push on to Last Light, maybe they…maybe they know something.” 

The rest of your companions mutter small agreements, as well as words of hope. Even Astarion places a gentle hand on your back, saying something about how Dammon wouldn’t go out that easy. 

The last leg of the journey to the inn feel like eons, each step feeling like a mile and each turn and bend looking the same as the last. 

Despite Karlachs encouraging words, you can’t stop the sorrow from clogging your throat. 

It feels foolish really - you and Dammon hadn’t even really started your relationship and yet here you are… mourning him. 

You try not to let the darker thoughts creep in. The thoughts of what his last moments were like. If he was afraid or angry or… scared . Did he think of you? Was he in pain? 

You let out a shuddering sigh as you turn the last corner, a cobblestone bridge coming into view, revealing a large dome of what looks like pure moonlight. 

This must be Last Light Inn. 

You just hope it holds what you so desperately yearn for. But just as you cross the bridge into courtyard, you’re stopped by two Harper guards. 

“Halt! Keep your hands off your weapons!” The woman says, drawing her own. 

You hold your hands up as you approach, your companions following suit behind you. 

“Who are you?” The guard asks, her crossbow at the ready. 

You introduce yourself as a friend of Halsin’s, before jumping into your more pressing concern.

“We’re just looking for someone,” you tell them. “Please, we just - I need to see if they’re here.” 

The woman regards you for a moment before dropping her weapon. “A friend of Halsin’s? She will want to see you. Come.” 

You cast a wary glance at your companions before following the guard, your desire to get more information winning out against any caution. You follow them further into the courtyard, watching as they approach a woman with long ashen hair. 

She turns to face you upon your approach, lips turned downward and eyes pinched distrustingly. 

Before you have a moment to speak, the woman reaches down towards the ground magic erupting from her palm as vines explode from the ground to wrap around your legs, leaving you immobile. 

You panic, tugging uselessly at the tendrils as you glance up at her. 

“We mean no harm!” You say, hysteria rising. 

You don’t have time for this! You need to find Dammon- 

The woman regards you coolly, “We will see soon enough.” 

Using her free hand she reaches behind her to produce a small jar, holding none other than a tadpole. You watch as the creature squirms, knocking against the glass as your mind pulses with familiarity. 

“This is why we’re here you see?” The woman says. “If there’s one thing we know about these creatures, it’s that they know their own kind.” 

She looks to you then, tucking the tadpole away in favor of unsheathing her dagger. 

“You never should have come here, True Soul.” 

Your heart rate spikes, and you hear your companions ready their weapons behind you. 

“No! Please , you don’t understand! We’re not true souls we -“ you can feel your tears threatening to spill over. All of your emotions from mere moments ago to now proving to be too much. “I’m just trying to find someone, please-“  

A faint call of your name causes everyone to pause, and your heart stops as you hear a commotion from the back of the gathered crowd. 

Bodies are pushed to the side, grumbled complaints silenced as the person comes into view. 

“Stop!” Dammon calls, wide eyes settling on you. “They are the saviors of the grove, they aren’t the people you’re hunting.” 

“Dammon…” 

Everything else falls away then, the surprised murmurs, the muttered orders of the  woman questioning you. All that remains is the man before you, the man you thought you lost. 

He looks the same as when you last saw him, sans his signature emerald scarf. But there, sitting against his chest is that all too familiar silver and green emerald pendant. 

The necklace you gave him. 

You don’t even realize the vines have receded from your legs until you’re stumbling towards Dammon, the tears finally streaming down your face as you all but fall into his waiting arms. 

“I thought you were dead,” you tell him, voice so quiet you’re sure only he can hear. 

His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you securely to him as his lips fall to press into the crown of your head. 

“I’m alright, I’m okay,” he tells you, voice soft as he holds you in his arms. 

You faintly hear the woman who interrogated you invite your companions inside to discuss things further, thankfully allowing you a moment with Dammon, who slowly starts to lead you away from the crowd. 

He leads you to a small stone building off to the side of the inn, the warmth from the glowing forge offering you some form of solace as you both come to a stop. 

Slowly, Dammon reaches up to cup your face in his hands, urging you to look up at him, bright blue eyes searching your face. His brows are pulled together in concern, his thumbs wiping gently at the tears on your cheeks. 

“What happened?” He asks. 

Your lower lip wobbles, the tumultuous waves of emotions from earlier rushing back. 

“I kept having this terrible feeling,” you begin, sniffing lightly. “Then when we were on our way here we saw…we saw the refugees and they-“ you force down a sob. “I thought you - I saw you scarf, and even though I didn’t see you, I thought the worst and I-“ 

“ Shhh…”  

Dammon shushes you gently, pulling you back into his arms as more tears spill forth. “I was among the people you saw…we were ambushed. But me and several others were able to escape and make it here.” 

He pulls away from you once more, eyes soft. “We’re alive, I’m alive. And I don’t plan on going anywhere.” 

His words are so sure and full of conviction as if he plans to survive against the odds on sheer will alone. 

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward capturing his lips with your own, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. 

There’s only a moment's hesitation before Dammon responds, one hand cradling your cheek while the other slips down to wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him. 

His lips move against yours gently, as if silently reassuring you that he’s here and he’s alive.  

He’s the first to pull away, but not before pressing a few parting kisses to your cheek and forehead before tugging you towards the back of the forge. 

You follow silently, taking in the small stall he leads you to. It’s clean, the straw looking fresh and the bedroll tucked in the back corner making you raise your brows. 

“You sleep here?” You ask, not missing the way Dammon’s cheeks turn just a tad darker. 

He nods, pulling you down beside him as he sits on his bedroll, his arm slipping around your waist as you take your place beside him. 

“Figured it’s easier this way - I keep odd hours so it’s nice to have a place close to my work.” 

For the first time in days you smile. Albiet small, but genuine smile as you turn to look at your blacksmith. 

“Why does that not surprise me?” You say, relishing in the way he smiles back at you. 

It’s then as you look at him, that you remember the scarf wrapped tightly around your hand. You look down, unwinding the fabric from you before holding it up. 

“You’re missing something,” you say softly, reaching out towards him. “May I?” 

Dammon smiles again, eyes twinkling in the orange glow of the forge. “I’d love nothing more.” 

You reach forward, slowly wrapping the soft viridescent fabric around his neck before tucking the ends beneath his leather vest. You then reach up and tug the delicate silver chain from beneath the scarf, letting it and the emerald pendants at its end rest on top. 

You thumb the pendant between your fingers, eyes flicking up to Dammon. 

“You still wear it,” you say, voice whisper soft. 

Dammon nods, reaching out to brush his fingers against the dagger holstered at your hip. “And you still carry this.” 

You smile, leaning forward so your nose just barely brushes his own. “So we always carry a piece of each other, right?” 

Dammon smiles, lips brushing yours. “Always.” 

Then he’s kissing you again, lips full of promises and so much more. 

#Dammon x reader #bg3 Dammon x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 Dammon #bg3 #Dammon

[answer2jeff]

ready for another lie?

// carmen berzatto x reader

song: Diet Mountain Dew.

pairings: nyc chef!carmen x journalist!reader

mdni!! i'm not responsible for your media consumption.

warnings: smutty smut, VERY DETAILED, fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), porn with plot, drinking, cursing, kinda subby carmy, praise kink, alludes to piv but it doesn't happen, complete and utter filth, i'm giving the people what they want don't look at me!!!

essentially a prequel, 1 year before the start of season 1 of The Bear.

"Fuck youuuuu! It's Friday, loosen up!" A groggy voice yelled from across the bar, cursing you for declining another drink.

You watched your friends flirt with the bartender over the course of 2 rounds of shots; causing harmless fuckery with the several guys who tried flattering them. You were actually bored for once. It made you sick.

You waited for something, anything else to impress you. You tried convincing yourself you didn't have to leave, that your friends wanted you here, and that nights like these were "good for your soul," but there seemed to be no hope.

"Just two vodka tonics. Oh, and a white Negroni. Uh, yes— yes, thank you." You caught a blonde curl from the stool next to you in the corner of your peripheral vision, and you dared to turn your head. You were met by the sight of an oddly familiar guy—and then it hit you like a semi truck.

The man you wrote your final thesis on "the senses creating art," about. Food & Wines best new chef, as of late.

You'd spent an entire year and a half traveling the world (after finally making a name for yourself as a journalist, and snagging a place in Food & Wines top writers) and interviewing the faces of all forms of modern art, representing one of each of the 5 senses.

Casey French, a fragrance designer as the face of "smell." Christopher Knowles, a fashion designer who specialized in optical wear as the face of "sight."

The list went on, until it ended at Carmen Berzatto, on "taste," just 6 months ago. It was September now, and you almost forgot about the 2 and a half hours you took from your day to sit down and talk to him in that studio. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you felt the pores in your palms release a nervous sweat.

You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were really seeing him— out of all the other Friday nights, when he could've visited all the other bars. But he chose this Friday, at this bar, next to you. You needed to say something.

"I'll take a Negroni too, actually. And you can just close out my tab for tonight." You handed the bartender your card after you anxiously fished it out of your wallet, trying to seem completely oblivious to Carmen's stare. Carmen clenched his teeth, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he kept his gaze focused on you.

"Holy shit! Is that—" A slightly younger man nearly yelped while he inappropriately pointed at you, quickly being shut down by his peer, and being told to "shut the fuck up," but Carmen stayed silent. He was dumbfounded at the sight of you.

"Uh, hi. Funny seeing you here," you croaked, swallowing hard when you realized how much of a horrible excuse of a "hello," that was. Carmen didn't seem to mind, dragging his head out of the clouds and smiling back at you as he received his glass.

"Oh my god, yeah. Wow, I— it's good to see you."

Carmen glanced down at your drink, watching you trace your fingertip around the rim of the short glass. He gazed at your fresh manicure, the beautifully layered rings on your fingers, the diamonds on your wrists, the black dress with a slit that exposed your leg up to your mid-thigh. Carmen always thought you looked nice, only being used to your blazers and gorgeous vintage pants that he was a little jealous of, but this was different.

And as if you weren't already anxious enough, Carmen's "friends" immediately arose from their stools and made their way to an empty table, leaving the two of you alone again. Just looking at him and his clean suit and tie made you nervous, especially with the ink on his hands still visible.

"Good to see you too, Carmen," you smiled, cheeks aching as you tried desperately to hide your excitement. Admittedly, you admired him. That wasn't new. But that feeling in your stomach, that aching, yearning feeling was.

"I don't usually do these things," Carmen mumbled, taking a sip from his glass and licking his lips.

"Me neither. It's kinda— I don't know, icky."

You knew Carmen avoided big gatherings like this, but they were usually tolerable thanks to people who "knew him" enough to let him hang around their groups in silence while they practically screamed at each other. But his free time just never seemed to align with anyone else worth talking to... until tonight.

"Icky. Couldn't have worded it better," Carmen tried not to laugh at your expense, keeping his tongue between his teeth as both of you fought back a smile.

"You get it! God, anyway—how've you been?" You inched closer to him, resting your chin in your palm as your elbows were propped up on the counter. You made sure to keep your stare on him and only him, glancing from his nose, to his lips, and back into his eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was too late to stop now.

Carmen paused, his mouth gaping open slightly as he thought of what he could possibly say to convey that he could be doing better, without completely ruining the mood. He sucked his teeth as he took a deep breath, his eyes glued to the floor until he finally looked at you again.

"Alright, I guess. Managing. How're you?"

"Managing. But really though. Like, has anything changed?"

Carmen thought about your question, realizing how much he seemed to relax tonight—while simultaneously being the most nervous he'd ever been outside of work in the last year. Was it being out and public after a long week? Was it the fact that he still felt so stupid for not getting your actual number, and instead only having access to your business email which was provided by your agent? Was it the smell of your perfume? Was it just you?

"Uh... yeah. Yeah, I guess some things have changed."

He couldn't help but awe at the way you did your hair and your makeup that night, appreciating the tiny details your jewelry and purse of choice added to the look. He hardly ever thought twice about the attractive women he'd run into; making small talk and watching them get bored with his interests.

But now you were here; his fantasies, his desires were here, right next to him; wearing a dress that flattered your cleavage and cinched you at the waist, black heels that tapped against the footrest of the barstool. It made his head foggy, and he couldn't even wrap his head around the encounter.

After finishing your Negroni's over the course of 3 separate conversations that left you with a cramp in your side and your cheeks hurting from smiling—basically hitting it off like you were actual friends, you decided to pull the classic...

"You wanna get out of here?"

Two successful, somewhat well known adults in their lines of work were allowed to be human, right? They were allowed to share deep belly laughs with someone they didn't originally plan to see outside of a work setting, right?

Wrong. It was unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted: everything you promised you'd never be around him.

Carmen knew this.

But he was eye-fucking you in that goddamn interview. His tattooed hands rubbing against his thighs as he sat in front of you in the white light of that studio, his gentle voice contradicting his large, almost intimidating arms—it was all you could think about when you wrote your thesis. And now you were gonna be alone with him.

And despite his worries, despite the nervous sweat beading on his forehead, despite his growing anticipation when he admired your figure like a horny teenager, Carmen agreed. The smirk on your face and your manicured nails in between your pearly white teeth was convincing enough. He knew it was risky, given the fact that you still wrote for Food & Wine every couple of months: being more than capable of ruining his career with one wrong, but so right move.

"Yeah, actually."

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Fuck it.

Carmen closed his tab, gently helping you down from the barstool by your hand. You held your purse close to you while waving a shy goodbye to your friends, who were drunkenly squealing in excitement for you. Carmen's peers seemed to be out of sight; therefore, out of mind. You felt your cheeks go hot, every part of your body tingling. Neither of you knew where you were going. Just not here, and not with everyone else.

He couldn't even think about the fact that he would be back in the glowing white light of the kitchen that following Monday, and you completely forgot about the paper you had to start by Sunday night. And it was way too late to care about any of that now.

You decided your apartment was best.

"Fuck.." Carmen grunted under his breath, his eyes hooded while he felt his pants tighten against his throbbing length. He spread his legs wider as you palmed him, trying to ease some of his tension. You hovered over him as he lied down, sprawled out on your leather couch. His hands were clawing at anything he could reach; your hair, your thighs, the straps of your dress until he pulled it down to your hips, and finally the clasp of your bra.

His bare chest heaved, red and covered in sweat. His dress shirt, tie, and jacket were somewhere in the mess of your apartment. He was honestly too desperate to care.

"You okay with me takin' this off?" Carmen whispered as he cupped your cheek, keeping his fingers prepared to unclip your bra with your permission. He admired every inch of your flushed face as he waited for answer.

"Mhm," you soothed him as your hand moved up and unbuttoned his pants the second your lips moved onto his. Saliva pooled in your mouths with every kiss, turning into a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth. Carmen struggled, but eventually tossed your bra onto the living room floor, his mouth just centimeters away from yours as he exhaled heavy breaths.

You sat up straight, pulling Carmen up by his shoulders and smashing your lips back into his. He pulled sway to breathe, taking it upon himself to peel the rest of your dress off. His tattooed hands gently caressed your plush thighs, his calloused fingers sliding under the hem of your lace underwear. He practically worshiped you like this, planting open mouthed kisses along your jawline and neck.

Carmen needed to hear you, feel you, taste you.

"I wanna taste you, if–if that's alright," he placed one last kiss of gratitude on collarbone before he looked up at you through lust-blown, half-lid eyes.

Your entire body began to heat up again, and Carmen's words went straight to your needy cunt. You could feel yourself dripping through your panties while you put a hand over your mouth in embarrassment, nodding frantically.

"Please," you begged, a mixture of a moan and a silent cry escaping. Carmen's hands detached from your thighs, your hips writhing up from the loss of contact. Without another word, he nodded his head, letting his hands travel down your hips as he got down on his knees in front of you.

Carmen took a shaky breath, glancing from your pleading eyes and back down to your bottom half. He hesitated, choosing to plant one more line of kisses from your tits down to your navel before giving you one last look for permission. He put his hand between your inner thighs, asking you to spread further. You blinked slowly while he peeled your panties off of you, wondering if he would notice how wet you already were.

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Carmen licked his lips, admiring the sight of your puffy slit in hesitation. With your body sprawled out in front of him, your pretty face looking down at him...how could he not eat you out right on that leather couch?

"I've got you, baby," Carmen cooed, his eyes wide as he nearly drooled over the glossy puddle in your underwear. He gently placed your calves over his shoulders, his calloused hands scooping the underside of your thighs.

Carmens wet tongue licked a bold stripe from your hole up to your soaked clit, not a drop of your arousal going to waste. You grew impatient, the kitten licks he gave your sensitive bundle of nerves driving you mad.

"C'mon, Carmy, I—" You whined, pleading that he'd pick up the pace. Carmen decided not to hold back, giving your throbbing clit aggressive sucks that he'd later soothe with slow, flat-tongued licks.

You bit down on your hand while the other entangled in his hair to muffle the sinful noises you made. Carmen felt his stomach turn at the sound of his name falling from your gaping mouth.

Carmen took note of how much you loved his tongue diving into your weeping hole, earning whimpers and cries of "please," and "oh, fuck, Carmen." He groaned into your pussy when you caught a grip on his hair, placing his head even deeper between your thighs. He moved his hands from your thighs and up to your waist—forcing your jerky hips down on the couch. He wanted to make sure you didn't miss a single bit of pleasure.

"Can I.. uh, can I try something?" He stammered, picking his head up with his chin shiny with your liquids as his hand crept back down, prying between your folds. Carmen needed to keep every part of him busy so he wouldn't have to focus on the aching bulge, already leaking precum in his boxers. He felt his thighs clench as he fucking whimpered beneath you.

"S–sure.." You nodded frantically again, tossing your head back as Carmen carefully inserted a digit into your core. You whimpered in slight discomfort as he stretched you out, which he immediately reassured softly.

"Shhh... you're alright. Jus–just relax f'me, yeah?"

Carmen waited until you whined again; his fingers started at an agonizingly slow pace until he heard your moans getting a little too quiet for his liking. He picked his pace up, sliding another thick finger into your hole and ramming into your g-spot. He hesitated, afraid to hurt you—but you quickly dismissed his worries when you urged him that you needed more. Carmen aligned his tongue back with your pussy, sucking hard before comforting your desire with lapping at your clit.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you felt that familiar knot in your stomach, your grip in his hair tightening while your moans grew louder and louder. You didn't care if your neighbors could hear you through the thin walls of your apartment. You didn't even think about what this would look like the morning after—because none of it mattered. Not with Carmen's head between your thighs.

Carmen could tell you were close, prioritizing your pleasure before he could even register how badly he wanted to cum into his boxers. He couldn't help but buck his hips forward, begging for friction while every noise you made just inched him closer to his release... but he needed this to last.

"You close? Let me take care 'f you," he mumbled, breathing heavily against your pussy while he tried his best to stay still. It sent shockwaves through your body, and you tried desperately not to scream his name.

"So... so close.. Fuck, it's too much," your useless protest was cut short by a loud moan, muffled by the sweaty palm of your hand. Your heart pounded in your head as your walls clenched around Carmen's fingers. You weren't used to anything feeling this good in months.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it. You're alright. You're doing so good. Takin' my fingers so fuckin' good," Carmen's raspy voice comforted you. His tongue finally came back to relieve you, his fingers slowing down so as to not overstimulate you, as much as he wanted to.

"Carmy!" Your eyes screwed shut as your thighs shook. You chased your high, practically grinding into his face as his nose bumped your clit while his fingers remained at work.

—

"Jesus..." You panted, grunting in disappointment when you felt Carmen slide his fingers out of you. He licked them clean while your eyes were screwed shut as you tried to recollect yourself. Carmen planted a kiss on your temple the second he sat back up onto the couch, pulling you into his lap by your waist. You felt his erection against your crotch, his already sticky mess combining with your wetness yet again.

"You okay?" Carmen cupped your cheek, pushing any sweaty strands of hair out of your face. And just when he thought he couldn't have felt more proud of you, he melted into the feeling of your lips against his.

You didn't know if you'd ever see him again, you didn't know if this night would magically become niche hot gossip within your respective groups; all you knew was that you wanted him. His lust blown eyes on you, his hands gripping your waist as he bent you over your kitchen counter and fucked you dumb, the sound of sex echoing through your apartment.

Maybe some other Friday night.

#AHHHH i'm screaming #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #i need him biblically #hope u guys like this it took way too long #nyc chef!carmen #he's such a cutie #i need him to eat me #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #the bear x reader

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART 11

Check out part 12 here

Gojo Satoru X Fem! Reader

warnings ⚠️: not proofread / abuse / SA just something vague not detailed.

a/n : I truly apologize for this late update, I was really unmotivated to rewrite it and I was struggling to find inspiration again, I'm sorry if this part didn't live up to your expectations but I read hope you like it though, I tried to make it longer but I ran out of ideas 🥹.

Music Suggestion 🎧

Satoru stood tall, alone in the balcony, his gaze fixated on the sky, lost in the depth if his own thoughts. The weight of regret hung heavy upon his shoulders, a burden he could no longer bear.

His mind played your last fight that night on loop, making him hate himself even more. He remembered his harsh words, actions and disrespect towards you. Forcefully shutting his eyes to make those images and voices that's been haunting him go away.

Unwelcomed thoughts yet impossible to ignore. Blaming himself over and over again for what happened to you, torturing himself to madness.

"It's my fucking fault" he muttered,

In all that darkness, the image of your face in his mind was the only source of light. The delicate curve of your smile whenever you were around your students etched in his memory. He remembered the way you slept, features softened by the gentle embrace of your slumber, your passion for teaching and your daily excitement to show your students a new weapon and new technique.

You were a vision of peace amidst the chaos he was living. He realized then how life became emptier after your disappearance, the void your absence had left in every bit of his life. He realized how much he fell for you, he realized that hatred was deeply buried by the birth of his love for you.

With a heavy heart, he bowed his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. For three days, his eyes wide open, unable to sleep without you under the same roof as him, cuddling a piece of your clothing every single night to take into your scent, to pretend that you were there, next to him.

Clutching his fists, his knuckles turned white , whispering a plea for forgiveness, a forgiveness he might never receive.

"I'm sorry Y/n.."

. ..

"Satoru?"

"Y-yaga sensei?" said Gojo wiping his tears away,

"Can I join you?"

"Y-yeah sure"

"What's on your mind? Still blaming yourself?"

"Do I have anything else to do except blaming myself?"

"I'm sorry for your loss Satoru" said Principal Yaga apologetically,

"I didn't lose her, she's still out there, somewhere! I know it, I'm sure of it, I can feel it"

"Pain is eating you up Satoru, you know you should let go already–"

"Let go? Easier said than done. How can all of you let go so fast as if she never existed?" he said in annoyance

"The higher ups orders, to not distract the sorcerers' focus from their daily tasks"

"Bullshit, –"

"Satoru I understand your pain"

"No you don't, none of you does! I did this to her, I built the wall between both of us brick by brick till it collapsed on both of us, she got abducted by Toji and here I am suffering everyday.. I just wish I can turn back time and undo the damage I had done"

"Is this because of regret or something else?" asked Principal Yaga

Gojo looked down, not sure of what to say, mastering the courage he finally spoke,

"I– I love her, sensei! I love Y/n so much, I just hope it's not too late to realize this because I really want to fix everything–"

Yaga sensei looked at Gojo with a reassuring yet sad smile, deep down, everyone accepted that you died except Gojo., and he didn't want him to hang on fake hope.

"Satoru–"

"I know what you're about to say, but I won't let go, I won't give up even if the higher ups chain me down.... I thought she was a curse when we got married but I think I am her curse, I was her curse while she was my blessing–"

"I hope you're right Satoru, I hope she's still out there as you said, I hope you get a second chance to be a real family"

...

*In Mei Mei's room*

"Look at this" said Maki her eyebrows frowning in confusion,

"Who's that in the picture?" asked Nobara as confused as Maki,

Both of them examined the photograph, their eyes flickered between the picture and each other in silence. In the picture a woman smiled serenely as she cradled a baby in her embrace.

Maki shrugged equally perplexed,

"I have no idea, do you think it's a family member?"

Their senses were on high alert as they scanned every corner of her room for any sign of wrongdoing, something out of the ordinary. They found that picture tucked under her bed after they flipped the mattress while searching for anything suspicious.

"And this stack of money? Didn't know she's got all of this cash here" added Nobara.

"And this box as well"

Intrigued, they opened it. As they lifted the lid of the box, a firegun revealed itself, its metallic surface gleaming ominously in the dim light.

"A g-gun?" started Nobara as she looked at Maki in shock, "what would she use it for?"

"Definitely not hers, why would a sorcerer with a jujutsu technique depend on a gun" she pointed out.

"Good point, so if its not hers then to whom does it belong to?" asked Nobara

"There's only one way to figure it out, but now let's take the gun, the damn photograph and get out of here" said Maki as she put he mattress in its place again.

.....

"GOJO-SENSEI" called Nobara out as she caught a glimpse of Gojo in the balcony "Sensei you need to see this"

"Hm? Nobara? Maki?"

"Gojo" said Maki as she saw Gojo with principal Yaga in the balcony "We found something–"

but before she could finish her sentence,

"Any news?" interrupted Mei Mei as she stepped in the balcony out of nowhere..

Maki and Nobara exchanged quick nervous glances, their eyes darting between each other as they attempt to maintain composure. Hiding what they took from her room behind their backs. Their expressions strain with the effort to appear nonchalant, but a subtle tension lingers in the air. Lips pressed into strained smiles,

"Nah nothing new" said Maki while Nobara nodded in agreement.

"Hm you sure about that? I thought I heard you said you found something, is it about Y/n? " asked Mei raising her eyebrows,

"What if we did? Is it really your concern?" exclaimed Maki offensively, only to get elbowed softly by Nobara,

"We found nothing important Mei Mei sensei, of course if we did we'd tell you" exclaimed Nobara, chuckling awkwardly.

"Oh alright then girls," she said luckily not giving too much important to the girls, then paused and drifted her gaze towards Gojo, "how are you holding up Gojo? I hope you're in the process of moving on" she added

Gojo's eyes burned holes in her soul, but he tried to remain calm,

"I'm fine"

"That's what all of us would like to hear, glad you let go" she said and then excused herself to go to her room,

Then moment she left, Maki ran towards Gojo and Yaga, showing them what they found,

"We found these–"

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THESE FROM?" snapped Gojo unexpectedly, his eyes widened as he snatched the gun and photograph form Maki's hands,

"Damn Satoru what's got into you, relax!" exclaimed Yaga-sensei,

"W-we.." stuttered Nobara

"How did you get these? they were well hidden"

"Well hidden under Mei Mei's bed?" asked Maki in confusion

"What? what did you just say?" said Gojo and Yaga in union

"We found these under Mei Mei's bed, the gun hidden in a box , tucked beside that photograph and a pile of cash, do you possibly know to whom it belongs?"

"These belong to Toji Zenin" said Satoru

Maki and Nobara froze in place, trying to process what Gojo just said,

"T-toji?" they said in disbelief,

"This gun was used by Toji to murder Riko Amanai, and these in the picture are Megumi and his mother–" explained Yaga sensei

"It can only be one thing" expressed Gojo through gritted teeth, "She must be behind it" he added and started walking away, thinking about confronting her,

"GOJO STOP!" yelled Yaga sensei, holding Gojo in place, "What's happened to your common sense? vanished?"

"We can't assume anything now sensei!" said Nobara

"So all of this isn't enough to assume that she's got some dirty work with Toji Zenin going on behind our backs?" said Gojo aggressively

"Okay you're right, it is suspicious but we need a plan! a proper plan, do you think she'll admit it if you confront her? she'll find a lie and you'll never find the truth, not out of her! We need to know more about her first" explained Maki

"Know what?" asked Gojo impatiently

"I mean, Toji has nothing right? not even a house, do you think if he'd take Y/n to a hotel room after abducting her? Mei Mei must have provided a place for him" she added

"So if we can't ask her, how would we know?" asked Nobara,

"We ask her best friend" Suggest Maki shrugging,

....

"Is it ringing?" asked Yaga sensei,

"Yeah shh it is" said Gojo waiting for her to pick up the phone, "–Oh hello" he said through the phone

"Gojo? Hi what's up calling me late at night, is everything okay?"

"Utahime, yeah everything is fine, we just need you here, if it's possible can you make here in one hour at least?"

"Well I can, but is it an emergency?"

"Um it's– it's about Mei Mei, we're preparing a party for her and we need your help"

"A party? It's not even her birthday yet–"

"It's for her service, it's a habit here in Jujutsu High to hold a party for a teacher to honor them, and this time it's Mei Mei, she did a lot for us and for the school, besides it's the higher ups orders so..."

"Oh the higher ups? sure then I'll be there in an hour"

"Don't tell Mei Mei that you're coming though, it must remain a surprise, now we don't wanna spoil it"

"So should be meet outside the school?"

"Sure yeah, you can come to my house?!"

"Oh alright then, I'll be there"

With that they hung up the phone,

"She'll be here in one hour, I hope we can get her to talk"

"I hope she's not part of Mei Mei's plan though" Said Nobara.

"Don't you think we must tell the others? Maybe we need some backup?" suggested Maki

"Yeah, but some of them need to stay here to keep an eye on Mei Mei" said principal Yaga

"Alright, I'll go and tell them then,"

*Time skip, at Gojo's house*

They sat there, Gojo, Nanami, Maki and Megumi waiting for Utahime's arrival.

"You've got a nice and big house" pointed Maki

"Yeah but never a happy house" mumbled Gojo to himself,

"Do you think she'll tell us more about her?" asked Megumi and suddenly the bell rang,

"I guess we'll find out now!" said Nanami,

...

"So Utahime, I hope you corporate!" started Gojo not wasting any precious second,

"Corporate? you make it sound like if we're discussing business, and not preparing for a surprise party! it's a p-party right?"

she chuckled nervously,

"Not really! you need to tell us more about Mei Mei, some information that we don't know about"

"wait? what?" she asked nervously

"Is she meeting someone? did she tell you about something?"

"Gojo wait! why are you asking about this? I mean she lives there in the school dorms as well, so I guess you know more than I do"

"I don't think so, she's you're best friend she must have told you something about her plan?" said Maki

"Plan? what plan?"

"Ah come on Utahime dont play dumb"

"No for real! what plan, I thought you had a plan with her , Gojo to push Y/n away!"

"What? NO. I'm talking about her dirty plan with Toji"

"Toji? wait what's going on?" she said truly confused

"STOP LYING AND ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION, IF YOU'RE PART OF HER DIRTY GAME I'LL END BOTH OF YOU" exclaimed Gojo angrily, making Utahime step back, growing more and more impatient.

"Hey hey Gojo calm down, what's wrong with you? I understand you're frustrated but that's not the right way to find answers!" said Maki and the others nodded in agreement,

"Megumi please take him to the balcony while me and Maki handle this, he needs to calm down" suggest Nanami,

Megumi did as he said and took Gojo to get some fresh night air,

"Geez, you really developed anger issues, you were more laid back even in risky situations Gojo" started Megumi

"Not anymore, people change and I've changed"

"Y/n sensei is dear to all of us, so I am eager too to know where she is, and I truly understand how you feel"

"No Gumi, you don't, you don't understand because I'm not just sad, I'm feeling extremely guilty, because it's my damn fault"

"I'm feeling guilty too" said Megumi lowering his head,

"Hm? what for ? you're pretty close to Y/n and you're good friends not only a student and his teacher–"

"It's my father, he's the one who abducted her and only God knows what he's doing to her, I don't wanna even think about it. Is there any greater shame than this?" he said his voice cracking,

"Hey Megumi! look at me, your father's actions has nothing to do with you, he's the one who abducted her not you! you've always been nice and kind to Y/n. Sometimes family does things that we are ashamed of and completely in opposition of it but it doesn't mean we're like them just because we're related by blood, you are what you're truly in here" he said and pointed at Megumi's heart "And I know well what's in there Megumi! I raised you and I've seen you grow up to be a loyal, strong and kind hearted man! you're the complete opposite of your father so don't ever compare yourself to him again" said Gojo with a smile,

"If it's his fault, then why are you blaming yourself Gojo?"

"Because I'm the reason she left that night! I've said too many hurtful words, no one can handle to hear, no one deserves to hear but I was too agitated, too overwhelmed by my mixed feelings, trying to push her away from me over and over again–"

"Why? why'd you push her away from you? couldn't you have tried at least? maybe after what you've been through you were destined to finally find happiness with her! "

"My heart was a messy place to make it a comfortable place for her!"

"Was? so what changed now?"

"I want to try to make it comfortable for both of us, I want t-t to– nevermind! I have to find her, I have to make it up for her"

"I understand and we will find her, Y/n is strong I'm sure she's safe wherever she is" reassured Megumi, trying to lift Gojo's spirit again,

....

"So Utahime, we really need you to corporate so you better put that bestie thing with Mei Mei aside cuz this is a life or death matter!" begun Maki,

"D-death?"

"Toji escaped and we think that Mei Mei had a hand in this" added Nanami

"No way! Why would Mei Mei do that? I mean you know what Toji had done to the Jujutsu world!"

"We know, but we know that when people are full of hate are full of unexpected things!"

"Nanami what's wrong? what happened?"

"It's Y/n! Toji abducted her, and we found Toji's gun under Mei Mei's bed, even though it was well hidden.. do you still think she's got nothing to do with that?"

Her eyes wide open in shock and disbelief, her mouth hanging open, sad expressions drawn on her face,

"W-what? I didn't know I swear to God! I've – I've never thought it will go that way, I've never thought she could fall this far" she expressed her feelings, her heart crushing, she's never expected her long time best friend would do or be part of such thing, to betray the Jujutsu community.

"That's why we need your help! You know how important Y/n is to our world! we can't lose her" said Nanami "So please if you know anything, any place she owns, any small details tell us, we really need to know"

With a deep breath, she started thinking, trying to remember if Mei Mei told her anything,

"I remember she bought a house! but that was weeks ago!!"

"A house?"

"Yeah, she said she might settle in Tokyo if things went well between her and Gojo–"

"She's truly delusion" interrupted Maki rolling her eyes,

"Where is this house?" asked Nanami

"I'll take you there" said Utahime determined to help.

Despite being best friends with Mei Mei, her morals were more important! she's too loyal to the Jujutsu World and committed to the greater good, she knows about the prophecy and she can't afford to witness another loss on the Jujutsu community part.

"I'll go and tell Gojo and Megumi then– maybe Y/n is there"

.......

[ Kill her, and I'll bring your cash tomorrow when I see her lifeless body ]

Read Toji through the message that he received,

"See! I'm ordered to kill you now! How much trouble did you cause her for her to free me from the prison just to torture you and kill you" he said with a smirk

"F-fuck you and fuck her" you said through gritted teeth as you were thrown on the floor, your body hurting from the chains that were tied around your wrists and feet.

your lips and nose bleeding after hours of tortures,

"And you still got that attitude, after being beaten up? If I were you I wouldn't act so brave.."

"You'll never be me Toji! we're both considered inferior in the Jujutsu world but I learned how to be the real me and not what others want me to be, I didn't let others to order me around and kill people–"

"Are you trying to save yourself? and convince me to not kill you"

"no, I know I can't be saved, not just now but for a long time ago, but you know the funny thing is that we actually have something else in common beside being monkeys" you joked offensively trying to get on his nerves, you're going to die anyway so why'd you not offend him, you were tired if being stepped on so why not talk back.

"what?" he said in anticipation as he kneeled down,

"Both our families are disappointed in us, I disappointed my parents and you disappointed your son, Megumi, nice kid he's nothing like you–"

"M-megumi?"

And you struck a sensitive nerve in him,

You started laughing when you saw his face dropped and his expressions changed, your stomach hurts whenever you laughed he probably had broken some of yours ribs.

The you paused,

"Do it Toji. Do what you were assigned for, no one will come to my rescue anyway, do it, kill me" you said in a serious tone,

"Change in plan, let me have my fun with you before I take the light out of your eyes"

"You still have time for fun? the dawn will break soon–"

"Oh I know princess, don't you worry about it, I know I can't delay the sunlight but I know how to make the night even more darker... and you were right, Megumi's probably disappointed in me but lemme tell you something–" he paused and leaned forward, his face a few inches away from yours "That's who I truly am, a beast that preys on the weak, and you are weak Y/n no matter how hard you try to come off as strong"

he said and he reached to take off your shirt,

Your heart beats quickened, you thought he'd torture you in another way, and not attempt to do something filthy to you,

"No -no! I'd rather die" you said trying your best to break free from his grasp, but his huge body got you pinned down,

"What? you're not a fan of big guys? or your pathetic ass is loyal to a husband who's never paid attention to your existence?" he said looking you deep in the eyes, his huge hands circling around your neck, posing pressure on it,

You couldn't deny the pain and disappointment you felt. You really hoped Gojo would appear and save you, you wished he cared for you. You couldn't deny that you wanted Gojo; your husband to be your first time and not with someone who would brutally kill you after taking what he wants.

You'd die even before he kills you.

"no don't " you whispered, loosing your voice as his grip around your neck tightened, making it hard to breathe.

....

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER"

All what you can feel is the weight of Toji's body being removed from on top of you.

Toji's body forcefully thrown on the ground, your blurry eyes trying to focus on the figure standing right in front of you, slowly approaching you,

"Damn baby what did he do to you?" he said softly, softly brushing his finger over your bleeding lip.

"S-satoru, y-you came!" you whispered, your vision darkening and ears ringing,

"Of course I'm here with you, Y/n! Y/N !!!!!no no Y/N WAKE UP" he yelled as he held you in his arms.

....

Your eyes slowly fluttered opened, your surroundings sharpening into details again, gulping with difficulty.

A serum attached to your vein,

"Sensei" said Yuji "Guys she's awake"

With that all of them circled around the bed you were laying on, their eyes look directly at you, greeting you with sincere smiles.

"How are you feeling?" asked Megumi.

You tried to leave the bed but they forced you to lay back. You looked around scanning the place, you were in the hospital, Shoko must have treated your wounds, everyone was there except your husband, Satoru.

Tag list ✨

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[kishibe-kisser]

Wish I never met you (Ghost)

A/N: It's finally here. I'm really proud of this one. Sorry it took so long to finish. Life really spiralled out of control. But if you still want to take the time to read this I would greatly appreciate it.

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse au!, Ghost x afab!reader, mentions of blood, death, mentions of suicide, Soap, Price, yelling, arguing, enemies to lovers, smut

Smut tags: kissing, p in v, oral (reader receiving), nipple play

Word count: 13173 words

Tag list: @mildlyhopeless @twdhtgawm @lilliumrorum

No one ever mentions how heavy a dead body is, not when the topic arises. The dead weight of someone in your arms, with absolutely no help. No it’s not something that crosses someone’s mind when thinking about death. You had never thought about it until now and well, he was so heavy, between all of the gear and the size of him, it was nearly impossible to pull him further than a few feet at a time.

Tears blurred your vision, dripping down your face and making it hard to identify where you were. It wasn’t something you normally had to pay attention to, he did that enough for the both of you, his head always on a swivel. Trying to pull him along from under his arms, your feet dug into the dirt and you put all your strength into it before falling over. His body laying on your legs as you couldn’t find the strength to move anymore. Blood filled your mouth as you bit your lips to stop the screaming, the familiar metallic taste making the tears fall even harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You apologized softly, cradling his head in your arms as you gave up. “I can’t do this.” You said even softer, refusing to look at him and looking up at the dark sky. Screaming wasn’t an option, screaming meant losing both of your bodies forever and you were damned if you were going to let that happen. You were going to bring him home, you had to bring him home, you owed that to him. “Damn you.” You cried, smacking his still chest. “I wish I had never met you Simon Riley.” You meant every word, more tears falling from your eyes with each syllable. In a world like this it was better to be alone and before him, you knew that… before him, it was the way you survived.

Pressing your ear to the door, you listened diligently for shuffling or any other signs of life. There wasn’t a sound and while that would have been enough for someone else, it wasn’t enough for you. You absolutely didn’t trust it, it wouldn’t have been the first time that you walked into an apartment expecting to find it empty only to be rushed at by one of those things. No, you couldn’t be reckless like that.

Gently you rapped your fingers against the door, loud enough to create the softest sound but not loud enough for any other apartment to even catch a peep. You pressed your ear to the door again, once again not hearing a sound and only then did you decide it was safe enough to try. So far, your apartment building had been a gold mine. The apartments on your floor having had enough supplies to keep you alive this long. It felt seemingly unscathed aside from the few undead stragglers, it was nearly empty. It had been a blessing and a curse to you, thinking about your neighbors that were most likely long gone. The building had been full of families, parents who worked and children who went to school, families who simply were living their lives when the world ended. The outbreak hitting the big cities the hardest towards the middle of the day, no one had been home, well almost no one. It was hard to believe a simple cold was what kept you alive that day, having decided that morning that it wasn’t worth the fight to go into work.

Guilt filled your body each time you broke into someone else’s home and saw the life they had left behind. The pictures on the walls, the vases filled with dead flowers and children play room’s with untouched teddy bears, they haunted you as you tried to sleep every night.

You sighed stepping into the empty apartment, a sigh of relief that nothing had come running at you the second the door opened and a knowing sigh that this apartment would soon also become a location for your nightmares.

This apartment wasn’t familiar to you in the slightest, never having it’s residents before and that made it a little easier. Looking around you took in the décor and the details as you shut the front door behind you. Your hand gripped your knife tightly, just in case as you wandered around. You nearly passed the old photo hanging on the wall, a wedding photo of the couple that most likely lived here in their old age. A stinging sensation filled your chest and you shook your head. “Don’t think about it.” You mumbled to yourself, brushing past it quickly to make your way to the kitchen. “Don’t think about it.” You repeated to yourself as you rummaged through their cabinets and took any canned item you could find. While this was the new normal, stealing from people never felt normal.

However you weren’t against the little joys in life, spotting a can of cherry pie filling that made you smile. This was going to be your treat and those were few and far between. Rummaging through the drawers, you found a can opener and sat down on the couch. Was it your most shining moment, no, did it matter? Absolutely not. The sweet cherry taste made you damn near moan as you spooned them out of the can.

You pulled your knees under your chin, still eating the pie filling as you pretended life was normal for a moment before nearly jumping out of your skin at a sound. It wasn’t the sound of zombies or an animal, no it was the sound of people and those were nine times out of ten worse than the undead.

Shuffling around to your pack, you left your treat behind. This was stressful because there was no way to tell what category they fell into, meaning you had to get out before you found out. That was just what you were trying to do as you gripped your knife, slowly and carefully opening the front door again. You hadn’t however, anticipated the three guns trained on you or the heavily armed men staring you dead on from your crack in the door.

“You bit?” The one with a thick mustache asked and you shook your head, knife still gripped in your hand but out of sight from them. You could swear they could hear your heartbeat, through your clothes and through the wood of the door. Your pause in answering was for two reasons: one, you were taking in their appearance, military uniforms on, heavy gear and vests and one wearing a skull mask and two, you were trying to keep your voice steady despite your whole body shaking. They seemed like military men, but the mask was throwing you off…that and the way his intense eyes were staring at you.

“No. Could ask the same thing.” You said, all your efforts to keep your voice from shaking out the window. “As that is your right, no we’re all clear.” The man said with a smile, but you didn’t feel at ease, not quite yet. “Put the knife down.” The man in the skull mask said and your eyes shot to him with fear. How did he know? “I don’t think that’s fair. There’s three of you and one of me.” You admitted and watched the smallest of the three let out a laugh. “Honest, I like it.” He remarked but laughter was the last thing on your mind. “I understand the caution especially in times like this. We’re from the military base near by and we have been trying to clear buildings and get civilians a place of refuge. We aren’t here to harm.” It was true, times like this were hard and a little extra caution wasn’t an excessive luxury.

Maybe it was your lack of social interaction or maybe it was the sugar rush from the pie filling you ate, but you pulled the door open and maybe misplaced some trust into these men. It was also partially the idea of refuge. You hadn’t spoken to anyone but yourself in months and while you were absolutely terrified and outnumbered, your gut wasn’t yelling at you.

The second the door opened more, the man with the skull mask pulled you forward and knocked your knife out of your hand. “Just a precaution.” Skull mask grumbled, hands roughly tracing over your body. It wasn’t in an invasive way of any sort but in a protective way, just to make sure you weren’t hiding anything. His touches nearly knocked you over, not quite steady on your feet and you braced yourself on the wall for a moment. “Easy, Ghost.” The man with the mustache said, raising his hand to calm the other man’s movements. “Yeah, easy. I don’t have anything to hide.” You said, feeling venomous towards the man. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.” He said in your ear, finishing his pat down and moving to your backpack.

You stood against the door, watching them go through your things. It felt invasive, them taking the cans of food from your bag and looking through the change of clothes you always had with you. The book you were reading even fell to the floor and you sighed, bending over to pick it up.

“I think it’s fair, considering I’m outnumbered and you’ve held my underwear in your hands that I know your names.” You said, fidgeting with your book in your hand. The way these men searched your things and conducted their business had you convinced, that and the closer look to their badges and uniforms. “Captain John Price.” The man with the mustache told you, extending his hand to you. Hesitantly, you took it and watched as the man with the skull mask made sure you didn’t make any sudden moves. He hadn’t eliminated you as a threat just yet, nor did he appreciate your attitude.

“I’m Soap and our cheery friend here is Ghost.” The smaller of the three clasped his hand on the man’s shoulder. Ghost wasn’t one for situations like this, which made him the best one to take on jobs like this. While they were all good at paying extra attention in situations like this, he truly excelled at reading the room. When it came to character judgement however, he was still learning and he always would be. A rough childhood would do that to you, it made you see people a little darker than the average person. So your attitude didn’t spark any warm feelings in him, all he saw was a nervous doe in wolves clothing.

“You live here?” He asked, handing you your bag back but not your knife. “Haven’t left the building since this all started.” You admitted, looking to your shoes and avoiding the eyes on you. “Haven’t talked to anyone since this all started.” You added on and shook your head at your own sad admission. “Are there a lot of people? Where you guys are?” You asked suddenly, a wave of hope filling your chest only to be shot down instantly. “You’re in no position to be asking questions.” Ghost interrupted, watching the temporary light leave your eyes. They had a nice haven going, with families, a community and self sufficient living. There was a lot to lose by bringing in the wrong person.

“There are. We have a community all living in the base barracks.” Price told you, raising his hand to Ghost to tell him to lay off. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into his lieutenant, but something had sparked an immediate dislike towards you and he didn’t understand why. Besides, personal opinion in international crisis was the last of anyone’s worry. Everyone deserved a chance to survive, everyone deserved a chance to be protected. It was why they had all joined the service in the first place.

You didn’t tell them about your apartment, or that you had a lot of things still left there. You figured should their refuge not be what you expected, you could always come back. At least that was what you were telling yourself. It wasn’t that you wanted to come back, you didn’t want to need to, you wanted this to work. Even if Ghost was staring at you like you were seconds committing a crime at all time, if you had to live like that it was fine. You wanted to live, to survive and who knows how long you still would have lasted in that building. If the military were the ones to find the building, you were lucky, it could have been a lot worse and ended very differently.

That was what you were telling yourself as you were pulled out of their armored truck. It was clear you were in the base by all the stiff government buildings and the cement walls surrounding them. But it wasn’t conducting as a military base anymore, at least not officially. Sure there were men in uniform wandering around but what really surprised you was the amount of kids running around, playing. It had you stopped in your tracks, watching with a little smile.

The cherry pie filling had been your treat for the day, but seeing all these kids gave you hope and that definitely trumped the sweet treat.

“Haven’t seen kids in a while?” Soap asked, passing you your backpack. You shook your head, trying to make the tears disappear that you hadn’t realized had formed. “Not any that were alive.” You admitted, pushing back the less than pleasant memories that had formed in your mind. Your apartment building was home to families, of course you stumbled across awful sights and had to take care of things you would have preferred not to.

“Come on, I’ll show you to your bed and then off to the showers.” Soap smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder and your eyes went wide. That was a word you hadn’t thought about for a long time and you found yourself tearing up again. “Did you say showers?”

Once you’re isolated for an extended period of time, it’s hard to adjust to be around people again. Ghost knew this, so his eyes were plastered on you as you walked through the base. You looked better now, less like a cornered animal and that put him a little at ease but he was still weary.

“I don’t think she’s anything to worry about.” Soap said, unloading the canned food they had found on their trip. “I have a bad feeling, Johnny.” Ghost said in return, ripping his gaze from you to help. Soap shook his head with a laugh before turning to him. “What are you really worried about? Think she’s hiding something?” He asked him and Ghost shrugged for a moment. “Could be, just find it hard to believe that someone like that can survive so long without help. We’ve lost plenty of good people to less in the last months. What if she was just separated from her group?” He unloaded, letting his feelings towards this situation out. “We’ve brought back a lot of people under the same circumstances and you haven’t acted this way. Besides, you know as well as I do that people will do anything to survive, even if it seems unlikely. Look at differently, she’s strong. She has to be to have survived so long alone, she might even be an asset.” Ghost knew he was right, he knew he was just being paranoid. He couldn’t ignore that feeling in his chest when he looked at you though.

“How have you been adjusting?” Captain Price asked you, sitting at what you assumed was his office even before the world went to Hell. You fiddled with the fabric of your shirt as you thought of an answer. It didn’t help that Ghost was seated on the couch in the room, watching you think of something to say. He didn’t like you and that was clear, not that you were the biggest fan of him either. Adjusting hadn’t been easy but you didn’t want them to think you couldn’t handle it. You didn’t want to be turned away.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” You said softly, avoiding Price’s eyes. “If it’s the cots, they take getting used to. The barracks weren’t made for civilians.” Price said with a sympathetic smile. You shook your head, raising a hand to stop him. “It’s not that- it’s-“ “It’s being around so many people. It’s too noisy, right?” Ghost asked and your head whipped around to him. How did he know?

“You get used to being alone so long, being around so many people can be overwhelming.” You admitted and you felt absolutely pathetic. A solid roof over your head, people that want to look after each other surrounding you and you couldn’t get a night’s sleep? You hated your body and mind for being so ungrateful.

He knew the feeling well, better than most. He struggled with this when they brought the first batch of survivors on base. They were strangers to him, sleeping a few feet away from him and they were loud. They weren’t really loud, he knew that. But you never quite realize how loud people are in general until it’s all taken away, it takes getting used to and he felt somewhat… sympathetic towards you. Being in the military equips you with coping mechanisms for things like this, it was harder for the average person.

“You’re not the first one to experience this. Which should be comforting, you’re adjusting normally.” Price told you and you feigned a smile. “If you need anything let me know.” Price added on and dismissed you. You didn’t feel comforted really, but you knew you needed to fight through it. It was a safe space and you hadn’t met anyone yet that made you uncomfortable, Ghost aside. You could do it, you had been through worse than a sleepless night.

You had been dreading the night and doing anything possible to avoid thinking about it. Oddly enough, there was plenty to do. You helped organize some of the canned food, looked into the farming system they had set up and helped cook dinner. It was a community and helping out made you feel better.

“There you are! Was beginning to think you were never going to show up.” Christine smiled as you entered the barracks. She had been kind to you from the moment you walked onto base, though it was clear she had been well socialized already. She never seemed to have an awkward moment with anyone and well, you were filled with them. It was nice to know she was worried about you though, it was dark outside and you had to sleep at some point.

“Yeah, was just doing a bunch. What’s up?” You asked, slowly walking together towards your cot. “One of the Lieutenant’s asked me to pass this along to you. You know, Ghost, the one with the skull mask.” She smiled, showing you the items in question. Earbuds and a historical fiction novel. “Did he say anything?” You asked, accepting the items with hesitation. He hadn’t said one kind thing to you since you got there, whatever this was about it couldn’t mean anything good. “Nope, just asked me to pass it along.” She said and you nodded in understanding, despite not understanding anything at all.

“Can I ask you something.” You said, mouth speaking before you even realized. “Of course.” She beamed, brushing her long blond hair behind her ear. She seemed eager at the chance of getting to know you more. “What’s his deal? Ghost’s. Like I’ve only seen him in the mask.” You asked, watching her smile pull even wider. “And that’s the only way you will see him. It never comes off. He’s a good guy though, I think. The most he’s said to me was asking me to give you that. He takes good care of everyone though. Just not with a lot of words. The kids think he’s a superhero.” You found yourself smiling at the way she talked about him and you could totally see the kids seeing him as a superhero.

The mask thing didn’t become anymore clear to you and well, you definitely weren’t going to ask him about it. You simply took his token of kindness and kept your mouth shut.

It wasn’t unusual for some of the guys doing security checks to wander through the barracks to make sure nothing was wrong. Ghost was lucky enough to be the one to have to do it this time, much to his own dismay. However duties were duties and while he’d definitely complain about it, he’d do it. He was curious to see if you were awake anyways.

With his gun tucked into his arms, he stepped lightly into the barracks. Wandering in between all the beds, he made sure nothing was out of the ordinary. Head on a swivel as he double checked perimeter until he reached your bed. The book he had leant you was nothing special, some boring historical novel he had lying around. Each time he had tried to read it, it lulled it right to sleep so he thought it might have the same effect on you. As for the earbuds, they worked better some days more than others. He didn’t know why he cared about if you slept well, he just knew he did.

By the looks of things it worked, the book lay open on your chest and the earbuds were tucked snugly into your ears. You were out cold and looked peaceful. From the moment you had been here, he had his eye on you and it always looked like you were going to run. This was the first time you had seemed okay, normal even.

Your chest rose and fell softly, your lips slightly pursed together as you slept deeply. Ghost sighed while looking at you, reaching out to take the book off your chest and folding a corner of the page you were on to keep your place for you. He then placed it next to your cot, taking another moment to look at your face. He was starting to understand it, the feeling he always had in his chest when he looked at you. This would have happened in the normal world too, had he have seen you. You were the prettiest thing he had ever seen and while pretty things didn’t normally make him weak, times were different and so was he.

They hadn’t been wrong about the time it took to adjust, it wasn’t long until you were fully on your feet and used to life at the base. One thing was sure though, you were itching to see how things truly were on the outside. Between the apartment building and the base, you had lived a sheltered life compared to most. You liked being able to fend for yourself and that was a quality you felt slowly disappearing. If something happened you had to know how to protect yourself again, how to exist in this world.

“Hey Y/N!” A small voice called as you walked across the base. You knew exactly who it was and it took no 2 seconds for small hands to tug at the edge of your shirt. You scooped the boy up in your arms, tickling him as you did and enjoyed the laughter that came out of it. “Jackson does your mom know you’re running around like a wild child?” You asked, still walking but now with the child on your hip. Christine’s son was an absolute ray of sunshine and you would do anything if it meant keeping that joy safe.

“Ghost is going to get supplies. I wanted to go with them but they told me I wasn’t allowed until I’m older.” He rambled, ignoring your question meaning his mother didn’t know. You were just glad Ghost and Soap had enough common sense to tell him he couldn’t come along. “Is that so, well how about I go talk to them about it?” You said, placing the boy back on the ground and looking towards the car that was being loaded up. “Yes! I want to go.” He pouted up at you and you ruffled his hair. “And I’ll let them know.” You promised, pink swearing with the child before making your way over.

“That little con artist convince you to talk us into taking him with us?” Soap asked, both of the men having seen the interaction between you and the child. “You have to admit for a six year old he can be quite persuasive.” You fired in return, smiling as you looked at Ghost. He wasn’t rude to you anymore and you could appreciate that. His presence around you felt overwhelming like he was always there, watching. The least he could do was be nice about it. “But no, I was going to ask if I can go with you guys.” Ghost’s expression, from what you could tell, drained from any amusement.

“No way.” He said bluntly, not even wanting to think about having you out there. He hated having to bring others along, civilians, but the thought of bringing you along was worse. He couldn’t focus with you around, he wouldn’t be able to be the best he could be out there.

“Jesus LT, lighten up. We’ve gone to that area a million times. Y/N’s good for it.” Soap said, not understanding the blunt response. “We can make this a civilian run, they need to know how to do this stuff too. Just in case.” He added on, hands gripping the shoulder straps of his vest. “I’d rather strip naked and dance in front of those zombies with no fence in between us, than do a civilian run.” Ghost responded, the remark making you bite back a laugh and making Soap pull a face. “I’d pay good money to see that.” You joked, watching Ghost’s eyes go back to looking at you. He was smiling, you could tell by the way wrinkles formed by his eyes but you wouldn’t let him know that you knew.

“I’d burn my eyes if I saw that.” Soap cringed before shaking his head. “Y/N go get a pack. I’ll get someone else to come along too.” He said shortly after, ignoring the way Ghost was bawling his fists.

“You really have a stick up your arse when it comes to her.” Soap turned to him, confused look on his face. “If someone else would ask you’d be annoyed but not care.” “She’s not someone else.” Ghost mumbled, needing to vent his feelings but not knowing how to do it. “Got a crush there LT?” The words already just sounded stupid. He was a full grown man at the end of the world, saying he had a crush was ridiculous. “Shut up.”

The car ride was painfully silent, an awkward air filling the car. Between you, Soap, Ghost and the man you knew who worked in the kitchen who’s name was Jack, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking between the 2 military men in the front seat. Ghost’s gloved hand gripping the steering wheel as you drove through back roads. There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach when you looked at him, confusion combined with frustration and butterflies. Fear was also in the mix, not sure of what to expect now that you were on the outside.

“Where are we going?” You asked, trying to cut the tension. You watched as zombies took notice of the car driving by, slowly changing their direction to the noise not knowing they wouldn’t be able to keep up. “Small string of shops. We haven’t cleared them out yet but we haven’t been there in a while, so if we haven’t someone else might have.” Soap explained, glancing back to you and you nodded. “Remember, we’re looking for preserved food.  Cans, bags, things that can’t really go bad.” Ghost added on, icy blue eyes locking with yours through the mirror. He tore his gaze away first before putting his eyes back to the road.

“We’re splitting up and meeting back here in max 2 hours. Stick to your partner. I-“ Soap was cut off, as you all stood in front of the now parked car. “I’ll go with Y/N. You go with Jack.” Ghost announced, pointing the other two men to each other. It seemed Soap could sense your dread, shooting you a sympathetic look. “Right, 2 hours.” He confirmed with everyone, making sure everyone understood.

You felt uneasy, not because you were finally out of the base but because of the fact he chose to be with you. Did he really still not trust you after all this time, not after the small things he had done for you? Or the way you adjusted to everyone and tried to help out where you could. Why couldn’t he see how hard you were trying?

“I’m surprised.” You said, looking everywhere but at him as you prepared to enter the first store. “Surprised at what?” He grumbled, before carefully opening the door. It was eerily quiet out and extra caution wasn’t a bad thing. “You picked me to partner up with. Especially considering how badly you didn’t want me coming along.” You explained, following behind him. “It’s not that important.” He said and you sighed, ignoring the remark and wandering through the shop. It didn’t seem to have much else other than baby supplies. Picking up some bottles and other things some of the moms back at the base might need. It wasn’t on the list but it was important.

“Planning on getting pregnant some time soon, those weren’t on the list.” Ghost hovered over you and you looked at him with a harsh expression. “No and I know these weren’t on the list. But there are plenty of moms with young babies at the base. Stuff like this is good.” You said and watched him roll his eyes for a moment before continuing to look. He wasn’t annoyed at you, no, he was annoyed at himself for not thinking about that, not to mention there were a few pregnant women around too. Maybe it was good that you came along.

“I can’t believe you still don’t trust me.” You said, voice cracking for a second despite how strong you were trying to be. It was bothering you, you wanted him to like you, to trust you.

“This has nothing to do with trust.” He said in return, surprised at your outburst. “Bullshit.” You rumbled back and picked up your bag to keep going. There were plenty more stores to go through and you were so frustrated, you didn’t want to be around him anymore.

The silence was even more uncomfortable now, so much so it even bothered him. He just didn’t know what to say, he didn’t mean for things to this way. Ghost was so in his feelings about the whole thing, he didn’t notice you had wandered off which was rare because if anything he always paid too much attention. “Y/N?” He asked, not wanting to raise his voice too much. Maybe you went into the next store, he thought to himself as he wandered around with a wave of panic through his body. “Y/N?” He said, a little louder this time as he scanned the store quickly. The moan of a zombie however made him whip his head around. This store was overrun and surely you wouldn’t be stupid enough to run in here. At least that’s what he thought, until he saw your backpack on the ground.

He already saw why you did what you did, the back wall was filled with canned goods and you thought you were doing a good thing. But where were you? He couldn’t see you anywhere at first glance, until he saw you on top of one of the shelving units waving at him to not come closer. They hadn’t seen him yet or heard him.

You were absolutely panicking, your heart pounding in your ears and you were looking at Ghost with nothing but pure fear. Of all situations you could have ruined, you really mucked this one up and now he was going to have to save you, which you hated even more.

Ghost gestured for you to carefully grab your knife from your belt and you listened, trying not to move too much or make too much noise. He urged you to slowly come off the shelf, but you felt stuck. They would definitely see you and they were no 2 feet away from you. Just as you were gathering the courage, lifting your legs off the shelf, a zombie crossed right next to you and your heart nearly stopped. Covering your mouth, you couldn’t let it hear you breathe. When it wandered further you looked back to Ghost, who gestured for you to hurry up, his other hand gripping his gun. Surely he wouldn’t let you die like this? Right?

Gathering all of your courage, you pushed off the shelf and listened how the metal sang under the pressure. It was like the whole room came to life, roars and hisses chasing after you as you made a run for the door. You avoided the arms coming towards you, the smell of rotting flesh drawing nearer as you held back a scream. The last thing you needed was to draw more of them to you from other areas. God you felt like you needed to throw up and the second you were out of this situation you would.

The door was in your grasp and you were so close, until you realized you forgot your backpack. Now, the smart thing to do would have been to leave it behind. Well you were dumb enough to get into this situation and you were dumb enough to go back.

You looked at Ghost before turning around, narrowly avoiding the grasp of a zombie. “What the hell are you doing?” He almost yelled, no longer staying quiet before diving into the store after you. He fired shots, taking down the one closest to you as you grabbed the backpack. Ghost reached for the back of your shirt, pulling you harshly as he used the hand holding his gun to bash another zombie that was charging you both.

With the backpack in your hands, you both ran for the door and slammed it shut the second you got outside. The door shook on it’s hinges as Ghost held it shut, urging you to find something to keep it shut. You found a thick chain on the ground, wrapping it around the door handles. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would hold for now.

“Are you guys alright, we heard shots?!” Soap called, running to you both and ready for a fight. You were about to respond when Ghost grabbed your arm and made you look at him. “Are you suicidal? Or just that fucking stupid?!” He yelled in your face, the grip on your arm strong enough to leave a bruise. You were in shock, not at the zombies or the near death experience, but the way he yelled at you… the way there was nothing but pure hatred in his eyes. “Your stupid fucking decisions are going to get you and other people killed. Going back for your backpack?!” He continued, Soap putting his hand on his shoulder to stop him only to have it get shaken off.

“I-I-I couldn’t leave it behind. People need that stuff.” You said softly and Ghost shook his head, damn near laughing at you. “Everyone get in the fucking car, we’re going back. Don’t want to deal with this shit today.” Ghost commanded, snatching the backpack out of your hands and pushing you lightly towards the car.

His blood was boiling, how could you do something so stupid? Were you really the type to act on your emotions like that? Wandering off because you were annoyed, you could have gotten killed and he would have felt even more guilty than he already did.

“Hey, cool down.” Soap grabbed his shoulder again, watching as you got in the car. “You like her but acting like this? One sure fire way to terrify her.” He added on and Ghost just shook his head. “Can’t believe she’d be that stupid.” He mumbled and his friend simply shook his head. “Can’t believe you think everyone’s a soldier.” Ghost shook his head at his friend’s words, feeling a lot of emotions. “Let’s just go back.”

You sat on your bed, aimlessly staring out in front of you. If things weren’t awful between you two, they definitely were now and it was making your stomach hurt. The overwhelming feeling of anxiety sat on your chest like a brick and you felt restless, your hands playing with your blankets as you thought about what to do. The matter of the fact was: you fucked up earlier and you had to face it. Maybe Ghost would be understanding, maybe he’d appreciate the apology.

It felt odd being around the soldiers rooms, like you were in restricted territory. Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but it seemed to general rule that no one really went back there. Another rule you were breaking.

You reached his door, knocking with a gentle hand only to receive no response. Repeating the action, you knocked again and gently tried the door handle. When you found it gave way, you did something even more stupid than what you had done earlier, you went into his room, only to instantly regret it. You intruded his space and well, now you did a whole lot more.

“I wanted to apolo-“ You were frozen, looking at his face. His scarred, handsome face without his mask. “Fucking leave.” He grumbled, hardly even making eye contact with you. He simply stood in the middle of his room, furrowed brows looking at you. Nothing but anger and hate filled his voice. “I’m so sorry.” You rambled, trying to leave again and tripping on your way out. You wanted to scream and cry, yell and hit yourself all at the same time. You felt like a bumbling idiot and now you even saw Ghost without his mask, something you weren’t even sure anyone else on base had seen.

Ghost was speechless as he stood in his room. He wasn’t insecure in his looks at all but he had made it a point to keep himself “faceless”. He wasn’t even that mad that you had just seen him like that but still angry with your recklessness. It wasn’t your job to put your life on the line for everyone else, yet you did it anyways without hesitation. Part of his anger was admiration, not that he understood it. Maybe he was too hard on you, maybe Soap was right. Just maybe, if he wasn’t so harsh on you, you wouldn’t try so hard to be accepted by everyone else.

“You want to go back to the apartment building?” Price looked at you with a confused expression as you played with your hands. “I know, I know it sounds stupid. Especially since I mucked things up so bad the last time.” You paused taking a deep breath to look at him. Price had become a true leader to everyone around and to you, you felt like you could talk to him. “I’ve been thinking about my place here within the group. I want to do more. I just know that building is loaded with supplies, I know my apartment still has a lot.” You finished and watching his face contort in contemplation. “If it’s about letting me back out there, I know I shattered the trust there.” You added on and Price shook his head, raising his head to stop you. “No, no it’s not that. Soap cleared that situation up to me.” Price said and you gave a half smile, Soap shouldn’t have to clear things up for you, it was your own fault.

“I don’t like it when there is conflict in the community. It’s small and fragile here, so everything needs to move smoothly. Like a well oiled machine.” Price was rambling, looking at your questioning expression as he did so. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ll let you go but only if you go with Ghost.” He truly was like a father, forcing his kids into the same room to get along. It wasn’t like you and Ghost were winning any teamwork awards before the incident, though you liked to believe he at least tolerated you then. You had absolutely frozen each other out since it all happened, he didn’t shoot one glance your way and you tried not to think too much about it. “I’m okay with that, as long as you ask him.” You said in response and watched him hold back a laugh.

His hands were gripping the steering wheel, it was noticeable even through his gloves. Ghost hadn’t said one word since you had gotten into the car together. There was no readable emotion in the air or his eyes, but there was a silent agreement to not say anything unless it needed to be said. Making amends in silence would be better than not making amends at all.

Stepping out in front of your building, you looked at him before bracing yourself to ask a question. “What’s the plan?” You asked, prepping yourself before going in. “It wasn’t crowded the last time we were here and got you, so I’m assuming it’ll be about the same.” He paused, finally looking at you and his expression wasn’t what you expected. Now that you had seen his face you could fill in the blanks. His expression was soft and almost gentle. “Top to bottom seems like the best way to go.” He added on and you nodded in agreement. This meant your apartment would be up quite quick. You weren’t sure if you were ready for it, but you weren’t going to let your emotions win today. Ghost would have to kill you to get rid of you and you weren’t sure he would be able to do that.

The first few apartments were near empty, a few stray cans and not one zombie in sight. It took no hour to clear the top floor and make your way down one, to your floor.

“You’re awfully quiet today.” Ghost remarked, checking a door before opening it. “Thought it would be better to not say anything, so I can’t say or do anything stupid again.” You explained as he checked the rest of the rooms briefly, leaving you to check a few of the cans left in the cabinet. “Smart.” He remarked and you nodded at him in agreement. “I’m sorry for how I behaved that day, my attitude was bad and it nearly got us both killed.” You said softly, trying to not make the situation anymore awkward than it needed to be. “I’m even more sorry for invading your personal space, Ghost.” You finished your apology, your eyes meeting as he watched you pack your bag.

“Any good cans in the mix?” He asked, making the choice to not embarrass you further as he could see it written over your face. “Canned ravioli. Seems we’ll be eating like kings.” You smiled in return, appreciating his courtesy.

Ghost watched you wander through the hall, closing his eyes for a moment to imagine this scene without all of the decay. This used to be your home, he couldn’t help but think about this scenario in a different time. Like coming home from work after a long day with groceries in hand, even exhausted you probably looked pretty. Hell, you looked pretty now.

You paused in front of the next door and took a deep breath, Ghost standing next to you. “Know the people who lived here?” He asked and you snorted slightly. “You could say that. This is my apartment.” You said, watching his eyes widen. You kicked the welcome mat to the side, revealing your spare house key and unlocked your door. “Welcome to my humble abode, Ghost.” You said, even kicking your shoes off out of habit as you entered. The action was endearing, especially watching you drop your bags to enter like you owned the place which in all reality you did.

“Call me Simon.” He told you, redirecting your attention to him fully. “Simon?” You asked, not anticipating his calm tone. He closed your front door behind him, carefully dropping his bags too and decided to take this moment for a break. “Yeah, you’ve seen my face after all. Maybe you should know my name.” He told you and you shook your head with a smile. “Thought we silently agreed that we were going to let that go.” You joked and he laughed, a real laugh. The type that comes from your stomach and bubbles up. “That’s what you thought. I’ll hold it over your head for a while.” Simon looked your way through the mask.

“I’m going to grab some of my clothes to take back with us.” You told him and he nodded. “Not a fan of the cargos we supplied?” He asked, watching you disappear into what he assumed was your bedroom. “I know I’m not in a position to complain but, No.” Your response made him smile.

While you were in the back, he wandered around your living room and taking it all in. There were pictures of you and your friends and family, making him once again picture what your life was like. For a moment, he even tried puzzling himself into it. Would he have met you at a super market? Or out for a run in the morning? Would he have ever made it back to your apartment if it wasn’t for the given circumstances? He shook his head as if it would get rid of the thoughts. He had gone from channeling all of his emotions into anger, to now thinking about what life with you could be like.

“Simon, you okay?” You asked, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. His back was facing you and it seemed like he was in deep thought. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He said and moved away from the pictures to sit on your couch. “You look really pretty in those pictures.” He remarked, watching your face get flushed at the sudden compliment. “Thank you?” You said, not meaning for it to sound like a question but you couldn’t help it. Joining him on your couch, you instinctively tucked your knees to your chin and looked at him. It was comical, seeing this large military man sitting on your couch. Never in a million years did you think this was something you would witness.

“You’re staring at me.” He remarked and you laughed. “Nothing you haven’t done to me. When I first got to the base you watched me like a hawk.” You retorted and he nodded his head, getting comfortable and sinking into your couch cushions. He spread his legs, muscular thighs taking up more space on your small couch and definitely not going unnoticed by you. Knowing what he looked like under the mask made it impossible not to be attracted to him, that matched with his sudden kindness to you, you had to press your thighs together.

“I didn’t trust you and well, it’s not like we see beautiful women every day. It was refreshing.” He admitted, getting comfortable enough to reach up and pull off his mask. You had seen him already, this was okay. It didn’t matter anymore. You had to bite back a gasp at his sudden actions, just looking at him with wide eyes again. His hair was all messy from the mask, all tousled and you just wanted to grab it.

He looked at you, really looked at you. Showing you his whole face again, this time without an angry expression but a relaxed one. It was making you swallow thickly and look away, looking to your window instead of at him.

“Is that why you were so mean to me? Because you didn’t trust me or because you thought I beautiful?” You asked and you listened to him laugh again, shifting his weight closer to you. “A little bit of both. Why do you want my approval so bad?” You nodded at his question, still not looking at him and debating how to answer. “Curiosity.” You replied shortly. The tension that had disappeared earlier was back and now you could put a name to it, sexual tension.

“Look at me. It’s been a while since someone has seen my real face.” Simon’s gloved hand grabbed your chin, his weight shifting on the couch a bit more to get you to look at him. Your heart was racing in your chest, his face so close to yours and his large hand holding your chin. You looked at him, swallowing your fear and lifting your hand. He winced slightly, your soft fingers touching the lines on his face. “I thought you hated me.” You mumbled, tracing over one of his scars as his hand moved from your chin to leg. “I hear that a lot.” He admitted, squeezing your thigh gently before using his grip to pull you closer. You could nearly feel his breath against your face, getting closer to you before simply pulling you into his lap.

“So you don’t hate me then?” You asked, heart pounding at the position you were in as he looked up at you. Straddling his thighs, your hands settled on his shoulders and he shook his head. “I hate how stupid you can be, throwing away your life for others you hardly know when it isn’t even your job. But I don’t hate you.” He held your waist, his hands moving up slowly as you cupped his face. He cared and that’s why he was always angry with you. “I think you’re stubborn and annoying, but I definitely don’t hate you.”

Simon’s hands squeezed your sides, the motion making you rock over his thighs gently. You never know how touch starved you are until you’re touched again and Simon’s fingers were lighting fires over your body. He hadn’t even touched your skin yet.

“Simon-“ You shut your eyes, not being able to handle the way his eyes were watching you and taking in the way your body moved under his touch. “God you’re so pretty.” He said, more for himself than for you as he moved to hold your face. The rough fabric of his gloves made you wince, opening your eyes and grabbing his hands to take the gloves off. “I wanna feel your skin.” You mumbled, leaning forward as his bare hands found your waist again and slipped under your shirt. He massaged your skin, feeling something so soft for the first time in a long time making him close his eyes for a moment. Your forehead pressing into his before finally closing the gap between you two.

His lips were rough against yours, pressing his chest into yours as he tried pulling you even closer to him. His breath heavy as his tongue dipped into your mouth, using everything in him not to just flip you both over and take you. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time, not for anyone even before the world went to shit. He wasn’t going to ruin it now because he was horny, he could be patient.

You started to pull away, wanting his vest off, at least some of the layers separating you both. You fumbled with the closures and he watched with amusement before helping. He pulled it off easily, making you sigh with annoyance as he could have spared you a little bit of time. Simon smiled and cupped your face with his large hands. “Listen beautiful, I’m in no rush so you shouldn’t be either.” He said in a tone you hadn’t heard from him before. It was soft and reassuring and made you need him a whole lot more than before.

He kissed you again, one of the hands holding your cheek sliding down to grab your ass through your pants. He used this grip for leverage, flipping you onto your back on the couch and making you moan against him. Simon was straining against his cargo pants, cock painfully hard and he wanted you to feel it. You nearly bit his lip as you felt his hard on pressing into you, whimpering at the contact and throwing your head back into the couch cushions. He took the moment to kiss down the expanse of your neck and his hands to the chance to roam and squeeze every part of you. Simon wanted to memorize all of this.

“I know you said no rush but God Simon if you don’t touch me soon I’m going to explode.” You told him, sitting up slightly to pull your shirt off. “Needy, needy, needy.” He tutted, taking his own top off before connecting his lips to your collarbone. Marking you up wasn’t something that he needed to do, he would make sure everyone back at camp would know that you were his from this moment on so he simply focused on kissing your skin gently. Your hands moved over his bare arms and shoulders, loving the feeling of his skin under your fingers before tangling in his hair. You guided his kisses, moving them closer to the edge of your bra and needing more stimulation.

He took your bra off smoothly, tossing it to the other side of the room before letting his rough hands play with your breasts. Rolling your nipples between his thumb and listening to every little noise coming from you. God he was going insane. His lips latched onto on of your nipples, sucking and licking the nub as you pulled his hair. “Fuck I missed touch so much.” You moaned, eyes screwed shut as his fingers danced over your stomach and travelled lower and lower. “Being touched been on your mind a lot?” Simon asked, tongue flicking over your nipple while undoing the button of your pants. “Only when it came to you.” You admitted guiltily, looking him in the eyes at the confession for a response. His cock practically twitched at your words and he decided that his self control only extended so far.

“Fuck.” He grumbled, tugging your pants down harshly together with your underwear. “What happened to no rush?” You asked, looking at the practically mad man between your legs. His thumb brushed over your clit making you gasp before he leaned down, kissing the bundle of nerves. “Out the window because my pants are on the verge of ripping.” He stated and licked a stripe over your slit before settling on your clit. His muscular arms were wrapped around your thighs, fingertips sure to leave marks and pulling sounds from your lips you forgot you were capable of making. You tangled your fingers in his hair again, watching him eat you like a starved man as you tried not to scream. “Oh my god, Simon.” You moaned, thighs squeezing his head slightly as his tongue traced circles over you. “That feels so good.” You rambled, the stimulation being so much for having not been touched in so long.

His tongue lapped up every bit of you, humming at the taste and the sting of your nails scratching his scalp slightly. Your babbling was cute, moaning at rambling about how good he was doing. He couldn’t help but grind his hips into the couch, his briefs clinging to his hard on uncomfortably. You were bucking your hips against his tongue and he opened his eyes to watch your face for a moment before pulling away. If you were going to cum it was going to be around his cock because he couldn’t wait anymore. You were wet enough, you could take him.  

You sat up the moment he let you go, hands reaching for his belt and undoing the buttons and zipper. In the process, you looked at his tattoos and muscular build, thinking of all the way he could use it against you. You had a little taste of what he was like and now you couldn’t get enough. He helped you push his pants and briefs down, his cock practically letting out a sigh of relief at being let free.

Simon pushed you back into the couch getting back in  between your legs, placing one of them over his shoulder to get a better angle as he teased your entrance for a moment. “God forgive me if I’m rough but I can’t wait anymore.” He spoke, apologizing not necessarily to you but for how he knew he was about to fuck you into the couch cushions. His self control was gone and your heart was pounding with anticipation.

Wasting no time, he slipped himself into you fully. The stretch made you cry out and your hands looked for something to hold onto as you adjusted. His shallow slow thrusts doing a good job of stretching you out before leaning over you and pressing your knee into your chest. “I need more.” You whimpered, his face close to yours again. He kissed you roughly before slamming into you harder now, the angle making  tears spring into your eyes at how good it felt. You knew for sure you were going to find bruises on your hips later but it was worth it, it felt so good you could hardly contain yourself. Your pussy squeezed him tightly, holding onto him every time he fucked into you. “Christ-“ He choked out, nearly whimpering himself as he made sure to keep his pace up. Simon could tell he was going to cum soon already and he needed you there with him.

His sounds had you absolutely seeing stars, cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you like he was made for you. You watched his hair cling to his forehead slightly, the veins in his arms holding him up over you, the way his abs contorted with each thrust and the way his cock was stretching you out. “Simon-“ You moaned out, pulling his face close to yours for another kiss. “I’m gonna cum.” You moaned against his lips and he smiled. “Come on beautiful, give it to me.” He coaxed it out of you, his rough voice making your walls flutter around him. “Cum for me.” He added on, his pace getting faster and harder to chase his own high. He furrowed his brows in focus and that was enough for you.

You were about to scream, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks but Simon placed his hand over your mouth just in time. A silent reminder that despite how normal this all felt, you couldn’t be too loud. Simon’s weight collapsed on top you, wrapping both of your legs around his waist as you felt him cum inside of you. His hand was still over your mouth, your walls squeezing him and spasming as you came down from your high. You were both sweating, his chest slightly sticking to yours as you moved his hand from your mouth. His breathing was heavy and his face was buried in your neck, hips still gently thrusting into you to make sure not one of drop went to waste. Your whimpers were soft in his ear, overstimulation setting in with each move of his hips.

Simon looked at you, hands massaging your waist and hips alternating slowly as he looked at your pretty face. Your eyes were shut lightly, focusing on your breathing as you tried to pull yourself together. “I missed sex.” You said softly, disrupting the silence and making Simon laugh. “Haven’t had sex where someone sees my face in a long time.” He laughed and you cocked an eyebrow at him. “So the mask usually stays on?” You asked, genuine curiosity in your voice and he nodded. “Always.” He smirked and you slapped his arm lightly. “Might have to try that out sometime.” You remarked and you both sat up. “The mask really do it for you?” He asked teasingly, hand grabbing your chin and kissing you harshly again.

“That took a while!” Soap called out as you both exited the car. “Was worried I was going to have to bring out the body bags.” He added on and Ghost slammed one of the bags of supplies into his chest. “Make yourself useful Johnny.” He grumbled, shaking his head at his friend’s words. You smiled to yourself, unloading the rest of the supplies and handing them to other people helping out. “Think that was everything.” You told them after unloading the last bag and grabbing your own. “I’m going to my bunk.” You announced, walking away with a small smile on your face. Heavy footsteps rushed behind you and snatched your bag from your shoulder, surprising you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, looking at Ghost staring at you with your bags in hand. “What are you doing?” He said, tone stern causing Soap to watch the scene. “Grab the rest of your stuff and put it in my room.” Soap’s eyes went wide and Christine who happened to walk past, stopped for a moment. “Okay.” You said, nodding softy. He wasn’t a man of many words, so you weren’t going to ask questions. So you just walked away to grab the rest of your things.

Ghost walked the opposite direction, bringing your bags to his room and he could see questions and remarks brewing in his friend. “Best be quiet Johnny.” He said, silencing him before anything could even be uttered.

Weeks passed and the weather got warmer, Simon kept you close and made sure everyone around silently knew what was going on. He loved you and he wasn’t shy about it, though he wouldn’t utter the words out loud. Saying them made it more real and anything real in this world was taken from you in an instant. You were together but kept at a distance from each other, the fear of getting too real a silent agreement.

It was only those three words keeping the distance between you two, everyone could see it. Even through his mask, any time he looked at you too long his eyes went soft and Johnny was making jokes. Price felt chuffed about it all, like some sort of twisted match maker. Despite no one knowing just how it all started, it was clear.

“Where were you this morning?” He asked, watching you serve up food to the other inhabitants. His hands on your hips pulling your back flush to his chest. “Got an early start, decided to help with breakfast.” You hummed, feeling him pull his balaclava up slightly to kiss the side of your neck. You hummed in response, smacking his thigh to get him to stop as there were kids around. “Hmm fine.” He grumbled, pulling the mask back down and giving you a look. “What’s that look for?” You asked, undoing your apron and pulling him close again. He just held you, not answering and resting his head on top of yours. “Well?” You asked again, knowing his silence meant he was keeping something from you. “We’re going on a run today.” He said softly and you perked up. You hadn’t been out of the base in so long, it would be nice to get out.

“Good, I’ve been going a little stir crazy.” You said and lifted his mask quickly to kiss him, but he pulled away. “We, meaning me and Johnny.” He corrected and you let the mask snap back into place. The world outside was getting worse and worse by the week, if he could keep you in the base for as long as he could, he would. You were the last good thing he had.

“Oh come on, I haven’t been out of here in so long.” You pleaded and he shook his head. Despite the fact that he knew you were going to win this argument. “I want to keep it that way.” He held your face, making you look him in the eyes. “Listen if this was a normal relationship I wouldn’t be like this but nothing is normal anymore, I need you to stay here. I need something to come back to. I-“ He had to stop himself from saying it. You looked at him, knowing what he meant but having a hard time accepting it. “What about me? What if you don’t come back?” You said to him, not one joking tone in your voice. This wasn’t funny, you needed him too. He was quiet, just looking at you and holding you. “I’m going with you. Tell Johnny he can stay here and that I’m going with you.” You told him with a soft smile and he shook his head. “You’re a stubborn woman.” He remarked, voice gruff to hide the worry plaguing his mind. “That’s one of the reasons you like me.” You rebuked and he shook his head again, leaning down to kiss you. “I’ll go talk to Johnny.”

“Jackson asked me to look for some toys or something. Poor boy seems bored out of his mind.” You remarked during the drive, your hand playing with the hair on the nape of his neck as he drove. Being alone made this easier. “I just know that in a few years he’s going to cause trouble on the base.” Simon said and you nodded with a laugh. “Probably, the world ending doesn’t stifle being a difficult teenager.” You smiled and he squeezed your thigh from the drivers seat. “But yeah we can see if there’s something for him. Think all the kids could use some amusement.” This was what drew you in about him, he was secretly such a softie. “See I’m helpful to have around.” You retorted and he slapped your thigh softly. Being helpful wasn’t the issue.

“Be careful when we walk through here, some of the building structures are starting to crumble.” He coached as you walked behind him into a supermarket. “Okay.” You said and felt your stomach do a flip. You were suddenly nervous, having not been out of the base in so long, you were paranoid and scared.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, noticing your hesitation for a moment. His glove covered hand placed on your stomach, pulling you close to him. “Just nervous, suddenly. Think it’s because I haven’t been out in a while.” You clarified, looking him in his eyes to show him you were okay. “If you are hesitating, we’re turning around and going back.” You shook your head and waved your hands. “No, no it’s fine. It was just a feeling.” You reassured, patting his hand on your stomach. “Really, it’s fine.” You added on and his expression didn’t lighten up.  “If you get that feeling again, we’re going back.” You nodded at his words, patting his hand again.

The supermarket was quiet, so quiet it felt unnatural.  The gnawing feeling in your chest was back but this run was important, so you ignored it. Begging Simon to come along only to chicken out like this, you couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t let you live it down.

There was some rubble by the shelves as you looked for some cans or toys, books or magazines. Something to keep people fed or entertained. Simon was at the other side of the shop, having validated that there was nothing crawling around the shop. He was assigned to the pharmacy section, scanning through all the pill bottles to see what was around. It was slim pickings however, it seemed like every spot was becoming more and more barren. How was Simon supposed to even consider  that he could make a future for you two with everything ending up like this. He hated hope, he hated the hope that you gave him.

“Well? Anything?” You asked, watching him walk up next to you with a bleak expression. “Barely an aspirin in sight.” He said, watching you crawl over the ground and scouring the magazines on the floor. “You?” He asked, helping you up and you shrugged. “Think some of the kids are too young for these types of magazines.” You said and walked to the next aisle. He followed you, not being able to help himself but sigh. It was all empty.

“What you thinking about?” You asked him, taking note of his almost sad demeanor. “The world has gone to shit.” You looked at him with a laugh. “Yes good morning, where have you been the last few months?” You smiled and he shook his head, he wasn’t laughing.

The rubble in this aisle was worse than the rest, bits of sky shining through the crumbled ceiling. Simon was looking at the hole, thinking about how long it would be before it all came tumbling down. He followed the cracks in the ceiling, looking at the decay before noticing the supporting pillar that was hanging by a thread. One puff of air and it would come down, taking the ceiling with it. He followed the pillar down with his eyes, watching how you completely unknowingly leaned against it.

It all happened so fast. The pillar giving in behind you, Simon yelling and the sky suddenly becoming more visible as bricks and rubble started crumbling down. You weren’t even sure what was happening as Simon tackled you, his body covering yours to shield you from any of the falling debris. You weren’t sure if you were screaming, or if he was, or if the weight of the ceiling was crushing you or just his body. It all happened so fast, that when you opened your eyes, you weren’t sure if you were alive.

“Simon?” You asked, softly at first as the realization of what had happened sank in. Your whole body ached as you tried to move, feeling over his body for a breath, a heartbeat, any sign of life. “Simon?!” You were almost yelling now, not being able to breath yourself as you shook him as hard as you could. You were crying, a sinking feeling in your chest as you realized he wasn’t moving. “Simon please.” You said again, struggling with the mask on his face to pull it off and see if it would make a difference.

A deep groan emitted from is throat as you pulled the mask over is nose and tried rolling him onto his back. You could have screamed in relief, the tears now flowing quickly and intensely, pure panic filling your body as your shaky hands grabbed the fabric of his shirt. “Simon.” You were looking down at him and shaking him again. “That hurt.” He grumbled, eyes opening and looking up at you. Everything hurt, breathing hurt, his back hurt and seeing you so upset hurt. “Oh my god, Simon.” You cried even harder, burying your face into his chest and sobbing. “I thought you were dead.” You yelled, having to hold yourself back from hitting him. Despite the pain, he lifted his arms and pat your hair, feeling some relief himself from not leaving you behind like this.

After all this trouble, Simon wasn’t going to let a ceiling be the thing that took him out.

You stayed like that a moment, Simon petting your hair as you cried, you cursing him out for scaring you like that. He had seen a lot of scary things in his life, things that would have destroyed the average man ten fold, but the scariest thing he had ever experience was seeing you almost get killed. His body moved before he could even think when he realized what was happening, protective instincts taking over without a second thought. He would have thrown himself into a fire if it meant he could keep you alive.

You had finally calmed down, finally being able to look at his face again as you steadied your breathing. His hand cupped your cheek, wiping a few stray tears as he slowly sat up. It hurt like hell, but the two of you were only getting out of there one way. “I love you.” He said, not even thinking about it anymore. Truly it went without saying, it was simply the last step. You sobbed again, pressing your cheek into his hand as his words sank in. “I love you too, you idiot.” You told him before hugging him harshly.

A rustling sound caught Simon’s attention as you hugged him, body in too much pain to react quick enough to stop it all from happening entirely. The zombie came up from behind you , most likely having fell from the ceiling when it all caved in and charged at you. Simon used every ounce of strength he had, pushing you off of him and into the ground next to him, catching the zombie and taking the brunt of the hit.

Your scream filled the air as you searched around for any of your gear to stop it but it was too late, the monster biting into his neck as he pushed him off. He yelled, finally finding a moment to pull the knife from his thigh and driving it into the things skull before pushing it off of him.

There was a ringing in your ears, no other sound whatsoever. It was like you had gone deaf, all the feeling in your body simply buzzing as if it was static on the television. You couldn’t move, cry, speak of breathe. You could only look at him and the marks coating the skin of his neck. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t have been.

“Y/N, I need you to look at me.” He said with a shaking voice, trying to keep it steady but failing miserably. You heard him, but it didn’t register, simply still staring at the blood and blinking. “This isn’t real.” You whispered, repeating yourself as you felt your chest starting tighten up. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real.” You repeated it like a prayer, still not looking at Simon’s face. You stood up off the ground, pacing in circles and repeating the words only for him to grab your hand and pull you back down to him.

“Simon this isn’t real.” You were tearing up again as he forced you to look at him. The features of his face, his nose, lips and those stern eyes were filled with something you hadn’t seen in him before. Fear. “Simon.” You said his name again, knowing in a few hours it would be something he was and not something he is anymore.

“Take this.” He said, not quite feeling anything anymore other than the fever that was starting to take over his body. He could hardly look at you, your pain being more difficult that anything he was feeling or had ever felt. He passed his hand gun to you, watching it slip from your fingers the moment it came in contact with your hand. “Simon I can-“ “No, listen to me, look at me.” He stopped you, knowing he didn’t have time for anything else. He needed to say it now because soon he wouldn’t be able to say anything at all. “You have to do this, you have to. You need to win this world because you’re strong. I wanted to be there with you when we did but the universe has funny ways of playing tricks on us and that’s not happening.” Your eyes pulled away from his, bottom lip quivering. “Look at me.” He grabbed your chin, holding you now to make sure you couldn’t do anything else. “I’ve never had the cards dealt in my favor, not in the real world and not in this one. Between my job, my upbringing and everything else in between, not once have I been happy, I just survived. You changed that. Never thought the end of the world would have been the place where I would find it, but it was.” His body felt hot, damn near steaming as he spoke. He had so much to say and so little time to say it.

“Now, there’s nothing we can do anymore. This is the way my cards were dealt.” He lied about his acceptance. He wasn’t okay with this, he wasn’t done yet. “I want to die as me.” He started, still holding your face and ignoring the tears covering his hand. He was looking at you and seeing you, beautiful you, in every way. “So I’m going to end it and you’re going to live.” He finished, the cry coming from your lips being enough to make the tears he had been holding back slip. “I can’t do this without you.” You uttered softly, your whole body shaking. He bit his lip, trying to fight every urge he had to hold you and say it would be okay. “You can and you will, you survived without me before. You can do it again.” He smiled and leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “Now. Grab your pack and start walking to the car. Don’t come back.” He wasn’t done yet, but the clock had run out.

No one ever mentions how heavy a dead body is, not when the topic arises. The dead weight of someone in your arms, with absolutely no help. No it’s not something that crosses someone’s mind when thinking about death.

The gunshot was still ringing in your ears as you dragged his body back to the car, or tried too. You couldn’t follow his orders, you never could. “Don’t come back.” His voice replayed over in your head as you wiped your tears and tried pulling him along again. You couldn’t leave him there. Simon wasn’t just yours, you couldn’t abandon him. You needed to bring him home. You were going to bring him home, you had to bring him home, you owed that to him. “Damn you.” You cried, smacking his still chest. “I wish I had never met you Simon Riley.” It wasn’t true, it was all anger and sadness, grief and fear.

You collapsed in the dirt, Simon in your arms as you looked up at the now night sky. You were so numb, you didn’t even hear the car pulling up or the heavy footsteps running in your direction. “Lt?  Y/N? What happened?” Soap’s voice called out at the sight, disbelief in his tone. Price and Soap stood over you, examining the situation as you began to sob uncontrollably.

“Help me bring him home.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think. I would greatly appreciate it!!!

#call of duty x reader #call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (21)

21. The dangerous Road

MASTERLIST

Summary: War came at a heavy price

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, death of a character, war and all that comes with it, mentions of pedicide (killing of a baby), threats of non-con, technically adultery, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k

Notes: Like I said, the pace is picking hehe, and it will get dark for a couple of chapters. SO SORRY FOR THIS LOVES

“I bled once”, you whispered to the maester, “but the symptoms hadn't stopped, I thought to be with child”

“after the birth of a child it could be tricky”, he warned with a warm smile, “forgive me my lady but I must check you out” 

It was an uncomfortable afternoon with the maester, but afterwards, you left his tower to search for Sara

The test that he had made you do was going to take time to… “develop”, so you had a couple of days before receiving any news 

Sara, and you, had started a quick net of communication throughout the North, you had contact with White Harbor, with the Lady Mara, and the Lady Bolton from the Dreadfort, all the way up to the Bear Island, even down at Widow’s watch, you exchanged ravens regularly, you even created, with Cregan, the “Dragon watchers”, dragons were faster than ravens, but you had placed outposts with huge beacons of fire that were to be lit as soon as they see or hear them, so as soon as it is lit, the next one will light them also, creating a line of fire to be seen miles away in Winterfell

You were nervous, the people were nervous, you had yet to receive news of Cregan, but if you think about it more carefully, it could be dangerous for him to be writing where they are and where theta e going, letters can be easily intercepted, an the last months you realized people who believe a man should have priority to ascend the Iron Throne over a woman is bigger than you expected.

You could have Aegon royalists within Winterfell without even knowing 

When you found Sara, you gasped

She was a mess, clutching to her own chest, heaving and crying by the window in her room

“Sara!”. you called for her name, running to her, hugging her, “what happened?”

“I don’t know!”, she managed to whine, “I saw something”

“What did you see? What happened? are you alright?”, you were so confused, she was distraught

She weeped in your arms, and you hugged her to comfort her, you directed her to sit on the bed, and you cuddled her. She eventually calmed, but she still shook with the sobs

“I don’t know what happened”, she whispered, “one minute I was here, and another…I was somewhere else”

“What do you mean?”, you asked her softly

“That somehow, I was somewhere else, I was something else”, you believed in magic, you believed in people who could dream about things that were going to happen, everyone in your family knew the tale of Daenys the dreamer and how her visions saved the Targaryens from The Doom. Once you were hiding from the boys with Helaena, and she couldn’t stop whispering about stars in the middle of the day, you didn’t listen and when the boys found you you ran from them, failing to see the edge of a wooden furniture and banging your head against it, you passed for several minutes in which you could see silvery stars under your eyelids 

But this was something else

In the book Cregan had lent you, you had read about wildlings north of the wall that could take the body of animals and use them as their own… but it was only a tale, wasn’t it?

“I was in the skies”, she continued, “I was flying, I was big, I saw Dragonstone”

“Dragonstone?”, you asked

“I think it was, I- I had never seen it”, she explain, still catching her breath, “it was big and dark, seemed like it was built front he rock itself, and… had many dragons sculptures all over”, that was a fair description of the castle of your family

“What else did you see?”, you asked

“I took flight towards the west”, she said shakily, “over the seas until I could see a castle, surrounded by a powerful wall, and a small village, under the protection of another wall”, she said, she was with you, but her eyes were seeing something outside of the room, they were lost in her memories, “the castle was made of gray rock with reddened tiles in their towers”, you paled then, “a banner was hanging from the biggest one, two black wings over a white banner, in front of a checkered black and gray field”

“House Staunton”, you whispered, “a house front he crownlands, loyal to Rhaenyra”

“They were under siege, and I was going to help them, but then…”

“Sara…”, your heart was pounding in your chest

“Two huge beasts, Vhagar, and another golden dragon flew down upon me, jaws open, a breath of fire and I…”, her eyes filled with tears again and she wept in your arms, “I could smell the burnt flesh, and the reek of death!”, she weeped again, and you held her against you

“Shhh, it’s alright”, you whispered, “it is alright”

But it was not

You could feel it 

And you were made certain the very next day

“See that he is bathed gently”, you said to the main maid that took care of RIckon, “Even though he likes the heat, just like a little dragon”you giggled, playing with his feet, “I would bathe him myself but I have a meeting with the master at arms”

“Yes My lady”, she said gently, you liked her, she was sweet and cared for RIckon as he was her own, she took him gently and accommodate him in her arms

“Who is this handsome boy that needs a bath?”, she cooed, “let’s take a bath and let mommy focus on her meeting”, she said as she walked away

You smiled as you saw her leave the rooms, but were called by a pup, Rickon’s pup as he barked at you playfully, moving her triangular tail

“Don’t believe you are free of a bath!”, you chided playfully, and he barked again but ran to hide from you with a whimper. 

You giggled

They were really clever animals Direwolves 

But as you were preparing to leave your rooms to your meeting, there was a knock on the door

“Yes?”, you asked cheerfully, as you were the Lady of Winterfell, and you needed to show yourself strong, but the face the maester had, it immediately told you something was wrong

Very wrong

“I have letter for you, My Lady”, he said, he sounded apologetic

“What is it?”, you whispered

“One if from Dragonstone, but the other… is it from Harrenhal, from Aemond Targaryen”

You palet

you received the two small scrolls, your hand already trembling, you didn’t know which one to open first, you decided, that the one from Dragonstone

It surprised you to see it was from Rhaena, you had never had a personal relationship with her, but still you read the few lines she wrote

And as you did you whimpered, bitter tears falling from your eyes

Rhaenys was dead

Her and Melys had been burnt by Aemond and Aegon in both their dragons

Just like Sara described

Rhaena goes on saying  she wanted you to hear it from her, because she knew how dear you were to her grandmother and vice-versa

“No, no, no please”, you cried, clutching your chest, falling to your knees

“My Lady!”, the maester fell to the floor on his knees beside you, clutching you tightly, “Are alright?” he placed his hand on your forehead 

“No!”, you whined, you let out a scream of pain as you felt your heart was ripped from your chest. Sara showed up, taking the place of the maester by your side, grabbing you tightly 

“I will bring you a special tea, to calm your nerves”, he left the room

“She is gone, Aemond killed her”, you whined, grabbing into Sara, “my aunt is gone”

“I’m so sorry”, she whined, “I should have seen it sooner”

“It’s not your fault”, you whispered, your voice as broken as your spirit. You then looked at the other scroll that had fallen by your skirts, this had to mean something… something else…

You couldn’t resist, you couldn’t

You opened it

What you found there didn’t surprise you, there were threats, a warning, and a demand

You whined at the sight of his poisonous words 

But now… you jumped from the grief, straight to the anger

It was him!

The source of all your pains, all your traumas, it was him, for taking your baby nephew, and now your dear aunt

It was him

And you were the only one who could stop him

Sara looked at you, petrified and scared of what she found in your eyes

“No”, she whispered, when you looked straight ahead, tears were no longer falling from your eyes, all it was there was fire, and bloodthirst, “whatever you think you need to do…”

“I have to”, you answered barely, standing from the floor, your hands made fists

“No! you need to stay here!”, she cried, “please!”

“I am the only one who can stop him, stop this”, she took the scroll from your hand and read it, and she whimpered

“Its a trap!”, she said

But you were already on your feet, grabbing your riding gear, the thickest pants you could find and the upper part to go with it

“Please! think of Cregan! of Rickon!”, she insisted 

“Is for them I’m doing this”, you said, all emotion in your voice disappeared

“Please! they can fight him”, she insisted

“I can get close to him and kill him, I’m the only one who can”

“But at what price?”, she asked

“the debt is high already”, she whispered, “and it will only take me”

“please!”, you turned to look at Sara

“Tell Cregan I’m sorry”, you whined, tears falling down your cheeks again

“You tell him yourself!”, she insisted

“Take care of my son”, you cried, “please love him as your own”

“You will!”, she said, now desperate, “you will love him, and see him grow!”

“I did the best I could for the North, I’m sorry if it wasn't enough”, you cried

“It was! but is not over!”, she grabbed your arms, “please!”

“I’m the only one that can stop him”, you insisted, “I can kill him”, she knew there was no convincing you, she can see it in your eyes

“Please”

“No one else is going to die for me”, your voice again a flat line, “Cregan will be spared, and the crown will belong to Rhaenyra”

“But please let’s wait until we can reach Cregan”

“You know what his answer is going to be”, you said, but you realized Sara was not going to let you leave, so instead, you agreed to wait

Only to sneak out in the middle of the night, after telling the nannies to take RIckon for the night claiming you needed to be alone, they took him without question.

You couldn’t dare to see Rickon for one last time, if you did, you would second guess your decision and you couldn’t

This was more important than yourself

This was about the future of the seven Kingdoms and the future of your family and everyone you loved

This was bigger

Vhaelar was waiting for you outside the Winterfell gates, she roared into the night air but at this point you didn’t care if everyone listened, you will be in the air by the time they think they can do something to stop you

So you climbed on top of your dragon, Aemond’s words burning inside your brain

“I killed Rhaenys at Rook’s Rest, it wasn’t personal, but I know your husband is marching down with his army, you have three days to come to Harrenhal, if you do not, I will burn them alive, and then I will ride North and take you anyways. Spare the Starks, give yourself to me”

You had to answer his call

It was true, you can come to him willingly, you had a dragon, you could hide a blade in your undergarments, and after, you could slay him in his sleep or something, anything, but when he said it was the end of house Stark, it meant your baby as well, pedicide is not something you would put past Aemond. You knew he was capable and able to do it

For Rickon

For Cregan

And for Sara and the North

Yourself was a small price to pay

The night was long but you didn’t plan to stop as Vhaelar flew decisively under you

You believed you had until morning until Winterfell wakes up and sends a raven to Cregan, if you manage to fly over them it will be too late also

In the air, atop your dragon, nothing could stop you

Unless perhaps, another dragon

All night, all the way south, your mind was blank, there was only grief, pain, and rage.

You did not deemed yourself as vengeful person, and yet, you wanted it, desire it, you felt a fire growing within you, that wanted to burn everything in your path

You felt such heat within you you barely felt the still cold air that hit your face in the heights, and before you even knew it, the sun was shining in the horizon.

You felt no hunger, no tiredness, no nothing

Only the rage

It was Midday when you saw the unmistakable burnt towers of Harrenhal

Your dragon growled, like she was in pain, feeling your anger

You led her to descend upon the castle with a velocity that made your stomach drop, but you didn’t care about that, you cared about vengeance

But you were in a close distance, you felt the fire burning within you, one command and you could burn Harrenhal and the Green forces within them, Aemond probably was there, inside 

“Dra-!”

As you were going to give the order, you were interrupted by a low growl. Vhagar appeared from nowhere, pushing your dragon and you in the air

Vhaelar whined as she struggled to keep in the air and you knew then and there, that against the monstrous Vhagar, you could do nothing. Even if your dragons was one of the largest 

The Queen of dragons growled in greeting and you could feel Vhaelar’s nervousness as your own.

Or perhaps you were your own

Some people would say that you are more lamb than dragon, because of your mother’s house

But they were wrong

You were a dragon he awakened 

You landed heavily by the gates, you could see the restlessness of the soldiers in you and your dragon’s presence. You abandoned the want to burn everything, against Vhagar you couldn’t win. you had to be smart about this, she had the upper hand, the surprise factor was ruined 

“WHITE DRAGON!”, they chanted all over the walls, but you didn’t attacked them

Perhaps that is what you should do.

Burn them all

But the retaliation from King’s landing and the Greens could be worse

Aemond appeared by your side, he did not hide his smile, his happiness of seeing you there. 

Bold, you assumed, as you were near your dragon, you could burn him, here and now

The temptation was great

“You came”, he greeted, “good girl”

“I came to the call of your insanity”, you growled, he came to you, quick on his feet, you took a step backwards, still he grabbed you by the back of your neck

Vhaelar growled, dangerously, but VHagr was there, right by her side, she grabbed your dragon by the neck, furiously, dangerously

“NO!”, you screamed

Vhaelar whined in agony, and Vhagar released her, it was only a warning, but her black blood flowed profusely from the injury in her neck

“NO!”, you wanted to go to her, but Aemond held on to you tight

“If you don’t want me to finish her off, you will come with me”, he had to drag you towards the castle, as you could hear her whines of agony as her pain as if was your own

He dragged you through the halls, the stench of dead was clinging into you by every forceful step, and you whined under Aemond’s brutal hold

He threw you into a room. It held no windows, no nothing, but it was furnished with the very best he could find in his proximity, you realized. A luxurious big bed, with small tales on each side, many candles all over the room to light it up since it had no windows, and a table with chairs on one corners, tapestries on the floor and hanging from the walls to give it a more comfortable feel to it, but it didn’t hide what it was, it was a prison, only made for you

“A room for a princess”, he said mockingly, closing the door behind him, “you will stay here”

“I did as you asked”, you said, trying to regain control, “I came, I did as you said, promise me you will kill no one else”, you whined, “please”, he only smirked

“I promise I will no seek the death of anyone else”, he pleaded with a hand on his chest and another raised, but all seemed like a mockery, “I only wanted you, it is good that you finally saw this”

“I don’t understand”, you whined, “why me? after everything”

“That is not for you to know, now put on the dress I selected for you”, he said, taking your shoulders and directing you to look upon the bed, where a very revealing dark green dress was waiting for you. “You are to please me, since you are married, since you didn’t want to marry me, you will be nothing else, but my whore”

A single tear fell down your cheek as you contemplated what you willingly let your life turn into. 

@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker 

@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @​​mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel 

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @zoleea-exultant @llleon666 @dark-night-sky-99 @bitchigoteverythingissues @harrypotteranna23-blog

@esposadomd @ajanauia @phantomtea19 @let-love-bleeds-red @kishie8 @dreamingofyourmoons @esposadomd @sandronebabyy @kemillyfreitas @​​trifoliumviridi @dreamingofyourmoons @darling-jace @biblichorr @ivvypg @mendes-bae @borikenlove @tssf-imagines @praline357 @alitaar @prettykinkysoul @aelora-a @a-mexican-waffle @ateliefloresdaprimavera @alexa4040 @lrboyd @anditsmywholeheart  @weaselyssss  @scarlettqueen190 @deeeeexx @cloudroomblog @dreaming-of-the-reality

#misguidedwinter #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #cregan x you #cregan smut #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon #house stark #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader

[idkfitememate]

So anyway this is the newfound brain rot because I got to many ideas, not enough for a fic, but it’s gonna distract me from others so here we go lol-

(Also yeah Grandpa I’m in a manly mood)

Note from weeks later: Nah this bitch a fix tf-

“Tell me about my Дедушка*.”

Capitano looked down at the ginger with contempt. It was often now, since Dottore had let it slip - curse that bastard - that Tartaglia’s Grandfather was a Harbinger. Apparently the boy had been raised to think that great man was simply a lowly solider, not one of the most powerful men in Snezhnaya.

When he heard that, Capitano had never wanted to kill a family more.

They hid your legacy from their kids, how dare they keep living as thought they had any right!?-

He sighed.

The boy continued to bother the much larger man at any chance he got, borderline begging - or now was he? Maybe he crossed that line ages ago - the man to tell him anything about his grandfather.

War stories, tall tales, hell even DRINKING stories, the 11th would take any.

It wasn’t like his Grandfather wasn’t alive, Childe could leave the palace right now and go ask you, seeing as you lived with his family.

But what Childe wanted was to come home one day in a boisterous manner and shout at his parents:

“You LIED you FEINDS!!! How DARE YOU LIE to not only ME but the REST OF YOUR CHILDREN about their ГРАНДФАТЕР?!? And to YOU, ГРАНДФАТЕР, ALLOWED THEM TO LIE!!! How COULD YOU?!?”

But he held to much respect for both them and you, even if his father sent him off as thought sending his blood thirsty son to join the Fatui would do anything. It was like sending a polar bear to a penguins nest, he had no clue what his father was thinking.

No matter, because you were there, showing him moves and teaching him tricks and giving him tips. Though, he still felt a bit betrayed at the fact that you even hid the fact that you were one of the strongest men in Snezhnaya.

“You truly wish to know boy?” The sharp voice of his superior snapped Childe out of his head. A quick nod was enough to bring Capitano to a nearby chair and sit, Childe quickly following.

“He was brave, I can say that much… He was around before me and had made a name for himself long before I even dared touch the Fatui, let alone graced its ranks.”

Childe took in the information like a sponge, absorbing everything the man said.

“They called him Большой хищник Севера*, a powerful title I’m sure you can see. It is said that before his accident, he had not lost a single man in war or battle, but after, he only lost seven men, one of each nation.”

Childe looked on in wonder. Only seven men… in the entirety of his Harbinger career? He knew the Doctor could never account for that.

“Wait… his accident? Do you mean..?” “Yes, when he first received that scar across his face, marring it, that was the first time he lost a man, someone near and dear to him as I’ve heard. I was only then truly climbing the ranks when this happened… a pity. But he wore that scar, and his friend’s Vision, with pride.” Childe gaped.

“Wait, you mean to tell me that-“ “Yes, Tartaglia, that Vision he carries in his eye, as well as arm and ear, back and finger, even his heart, they all work. They are the last pieces of his closest comrades. He’d rather die than give them up, I’ve heard. Unfortunately the strain of using them forced him into retirement, but he comes when we call.”

Childe’s eyes widened as he screamed.

“WAIT THEY WORK?!?-“

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“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“

Ajax looked on in awe at his Дедушка. The nearly ten foot tall giant of a man, with a full beard and furry body hair to boot had just pulled a huge fish out from beneath the ice sheet they currently stood on while ice-fishing, bare handed.

Your roaring laughter echoed through the tundra as you held the fish up proudly. You grabbed the then four year old and hoisted him onto your shoulder, that which he could fully sit on and still have some room. His hands latched onto the side of your face but that didn’t seem to phase you, as you continued your loud laughter. The cause of your laughter, being that the fish was the same size as Ajax.

“LOOK AT HOW LARGE IT IS, МАЛЕНЬКИЙ ОДИН*!! SHE IS THE SAME SIZE AS YOU BWAHAHAHAHA!!”

Ajax’s entire body shook as you continued to laugh, giggles beginning to bubble up from his own mouth.

He watched as your Hydro themed earring bounced around as your body gyrated up and down from the mere force of your laughter. His laughter grew until the two of you were basically screaming out through the tundra.

You sighed and - while still chuckling - wrapped an arm around the boys waist and began walking back home. Of course, not before grabbing the bucket filled with other fish from your fishing trip.

Ajax didn’t want to say anything, on account of the fact that it would’ve been disrespectful of course, but your arm that was wrapped around him was bumpy and hard and cold, not unlike a certain place on your chest, though it was just super cold.

The arm was usually covered in more layers or a bunch or bandages wrapped around it to soften its shape and surface, but Ajax could still feel the sharp points and edges, though he never minded.

Eventually you both made it back to the house you shared with his family, and ducking under the doorframe quickly alerted the family of your presents.

“ГРАНДФАТЕР!!!!” Ajax’s two younger siblings - a third was on his way, Teucer would be his name - ran up to you jumping at your feet. You chuckled more and let their heads, greeting each.

“Tonia, Anthon, calm yourselves!! We were only gone a few hours hah hah!!” The two only cried out in joy louder, wrapping themselves around your legs. You stumbled for a moment before walking forward as if they weren’t there.

A man and a woman watched as you walked into the kitchen and subsequently the freezer - ironic considering where you lived - to drop off the fish before waltzing into the living room. You plopped down in the couch, first removing Ajax’s coat and then your own.

The two on your legs let go and smiled up at you, the man and woman - Ajax’s mom and dad - walked over a gave you smile, a hand landing on your shoulder.

Your smile widened.

Archons you fucking loved your family.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Archons you fucking hated these enemies.

These fuckers from Natlan were resistant little fuckers. You chop off a hand and they’d still keep fighting.

You were growing annoyed after hours of fighting, blood drenching your uniform and absolutely caking your hair, something you knew would be a bitch to get out from experience.

Your right hand of the time, a Natlander by the name of Eztil, was beside you through the whole fight. He wielded large war hammer made of various precious metals and stones, as well as prettified wood; it swung through the skies, heating up the air as his Pyro vision burned bright. Much like you, his battle-hungry smile was long gone, replaced by annoyance as he squished another enemy beneath his hammer, blood spraying across his already bloody face.

“UGH! I’m getting bored nouehuepo*!! When are we going to be finished?? I am growing hungry and wish to challenge you to another eating contest after this!!” He shouted, completely ignoring the man running at him with a knife, whom was taken down by another Fatui member.

“I do not know приятель*. But let us continue until no other man stands but us!” And with that, you both continued swinging. You with your fists, sickles and hammers, him with his war hammer and bursts of flame.

Your movements were in sync, almost like a dance as you ravaged the battle field. You had each others back, making you both the most dangerous force on the battlefield.

If only it could’ve stayed that way.

It was a second. A second to look back at your friend to make a mental check.

Then you felt a searing sensation on the side of your face not looking at him. Eyes quickly looking back, a knife was embedded in your skin and a man had his foot on your chest. He smirked, then dragged the burning hot knife up, towards your eye, but before you could fully react.

Everything went white in that eye, then black.

Then, the most searing, burning, awful sensation you had ever felt.

Your scream silenced the battlefield as you bat the man away with the knife still embedded in your flesh, his body skipping across the land like a stone on a lake. Eztil’s eyes landed on you, which was just enough time for another attack.

“EZTIL!!!” You screamed.

…

A sword embedded itself through his chest. Both your eyes widened as your hand left the knife in your eye, reaching out to your now falling comrade.

You refused to cry, because he’d live.

That’s what you said to yourself as you rushed over to him, not minding your injury.

“Eztil, don’t you DARE fucking close your eyes, do you understand me?!?” Blood bubbles from his lips as his breathing slowed. A tear slipped from his eye as one of his hands pressed against your cheek.

“Nouehuepo… take it.” He whispered. Your gaze became confused as you stared at the dying man.

“What..?-“ “My vision. Take it. She shall be of service to… y-you.” He let out a harsh cough, his blood not staining your skin, making you flinch.

“No. It is yours приятель, I could never-“ “It is my last wish. Y-you wouldn’t deny a d-dying man his last wi-sh, would you?” You sighed, smiling at him.

“I don’t want you to die of enemy hands, so would you allow me to do the honors?” His grin widened, a glint in his eyes as he laughed, which quickly turned to hacking up his lungs.

“O-of co-urse!!” He smiled, and you smiled as well. Your hand flew up to the knife in your eye, and tore it out, not caring for the fountain of blood that squelched out. You also didn’t mind the large flap of skin that fell from your cheek, revealing the musculature of your face and your gums and teeth.

“Goodbye, my friend. May you find many fights in the afterlife to satisfy your bloodlust.” He grabbed your hand with the widest smile you’d ever seen in him.

“And ma-y I see you I-in that place!” Your hand came down onto his head, knife imbedding itself into his skull. Then, you raised your arm and planted the knife tainted with you and his blood now into his chest, striking his heart head on.

The light died from his eyes and his vision, but you quickly picked up the small red jewel which had been attached to his hair. Wiping it off, you leaned back and held your hand forward, before slamming the damned thing into your eye.

The battlefield suddenly felt as though it was atop a volcano itself, the air heating up and ash seemingly falling from the sky. You gripped your friend’s weapon, testing it in your hand and grip, swinging it slightly. Your hands pressed to your waist and your hand tilted to the sky, and finally, you laughed.

Your laughter shook the world, men falling in their asses as you showcased your joy. the air grew even hotter as the vision grew even brighter. Your entire body shook as the ear hammer in your hand heated up to a point where the metals were turning white in heat, though they didn’t melt.

You turned to your men, a wide smile on your face and tears, one trail of water and one of blood, streamed from your eyes.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR MEN?!? LET US FIGHT UNTIL ONLY WE REMAIN!! CHARRGGEEE!!!!”

You continued to laugh as you knocked down tens of hundreds of soldiers in one swipe, the sky nearly turning red at the mere sight of your bloodlust and rage.

That night would go down in history. The night the sky cried blood, the fall of a nation of soldiers, the day Natlan would forever regret.

‘The Night Man became a God”

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You stared at the bloodied Tartaglia- no. You stared at your grandson, Ajax’s bloodied form.

He only looked back at you.

“Well, Дедушка? Have I become a God?”

Holy shit this sucked the shit outta me-

This ain’t the best but I hope you enjoyed might go back and make another of these lmao-

Дедушка - Grandfather

ГРАНДФАТЕР - GRANDFATHER

Большой хищник Севера - The Great Predator of the North

МАЛЕНЬКИЙ ОДИН - LITTLE ONE

nouehuepo - my friend

приятель - buddy

#male reader #x male reader #Genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #male y/n #platonic #family #Childe!Grandpa!Reader #genshin impact x male reader

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - A Birthday Treat

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 5.4k

A/N: This is mostly kind of unedited, so be kind and don’t judge me too harshly. I wanted to get this out yesterday, but life just sort of got in the way. Hope y’all enjoy!

Appreciate all the love, support and feedback!

Shout out to Nessa @asparrowofthedawn for helping me work through this “blurb” idea ❤️

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI! (Oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, dirty talk, ice play, spit kink, degradation kink)

Masterpost

Skin Deep Playlist

You adjust the fit of your new lingerie, a set you had picked out specifically for this day, shimmying it beneath your matching sundress as you stand in front of the bathroom mirror. The guys had thankfully kept themselves occupied by playing one of their video games in the living room, giving you plenty of time to fix your hair to your liking, a half-up twisted knot. You had even gone as far as to pack your curling iron from your apartment to style the ends so they sit nicely against your bare shoulders. Leaning in so you’re a few inches from the mirror, you give a final swipe of the carefully selected lipstick across your bottom lip.

You look good. Really good.

It’s not that you never wore makeup or dressed up like this, but being around them gives you a sense of comfort like this was your second home. A place where you can be yourself and feel confident knowing that they’ll appreciate your natural beauty. Josh makes a point of it, telling you over and over that he finds you the most irresistible when you’re wearing nothing but a pair of cotton panties and one of his favorite t-shirts. 

But today was special, and you’re more than determined to prove that to them. There’s no doubt you’re turned on by how quickly you’ve soaked through the panties you just put on minutes ago. You can’t help it, the thought of having both of them within your reach is nearly too much to bear.

You iron out the wrinkles of your dress with a pass of your palms while giving yourself one last internal pep talk. The little plan you’ve schemed is coming together, and now all you have to do is execute it. 

The t.v can be heard echoing throughout the hallway as you make your way into the living room with each confident stride. Josh’s boisterous laugh cuts through the sounds of the game, making you smile before you even get into their line of vision. 

Just like you predicted, Josh is the one to notice your presence first, breaking his focus away from the screen in a fleeting glance, only to follow it with a double take. As they lock on to you, his gaze lingers, making his eyes instantly light up as he takes you in, absorbing every single detail into memory. His smile, one that you think can’t get any bigger — the one that you adore so much — shows across his face until he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. He tosses the controller onto the coffee table with a loud thud and stretches back into the seat cushion.

Jake has only been paying attention to the game since you’ve been standing here and throws his hands up in frustration as he snaps at his twin, “Dude, what the fuck—“ But his thought is cut off once he sees you like his brain suddenly blanked out. “—Oh.” 

He pauses the game and tosses his controller to the side to eliminate any distraction, an action you’re convinced is unnecessary based on how he’s staring at you right now. His eyes are wide in shock, giving you that cliche deer-in-the-headlights look — an expression you rarely ever see from him. 

Normally you would fight the shy, bashful feeling that’s bubbling in your stomach from that reaction, but instead, you use it to your advantage. You let the rising blush show on your face while you play with the curled ends of your hair, dropping your eyes away from them to look down at the pattern of the hardwood floor.

You allow the tension of the moment to linger for a few seconds, giving them the time to study all the details you had put so much effort into.  Pulling your eyes back up to Josh, you see him leaning back against the cushion, smiling at you like he always does. The glint in his eyes is telling you he’s onto whatever this is and is welcoming it with unbridled enthusiasm. 

He decides to break the silence, with the tone of his voice saying more than the actual words, “Hey baby, we don’t have to be ready to go for a couple more hours.”

You feel Jake’s eyes following your every move as you close the short distance between you until you’re standing inches away from their legs. While making sure to give them both your attention, you say softly, “I know…but I wanted to give you both a present first.”

You follow through with your next move by sliding onto Josh’s lap with your hands braced on his shoulders, which makes your sundress ride up your legs as you sink onto him. You can feel the excitement radiating through him as you adjust, rolling your hips ever-so-slightly so you feel the rough fabric of his jeans grazing the back of your thighs. 

You can feel everything through the delicate, sheer fabric of your panties, the friction of rubbing across the denim alone driving you right to the edge. His thigh muscles flex beneath you as he rolls his hips up, driving his already-hard erection into your core.

It’s no surprise to you that he’s amped up already. You had been teasing him with the idea all day since the two of you woke up this morning, even if it made you feel slightly guilty for making him wait as long as you have. 

“But it’s my birthday, baby,” he whines against your ear with that certain rasp of sleep, a sound he knows is sure to make your thighs clench in need. 

“I know…” You want to give in, to worship his cock for hours with no end in sight, to hear him plead from overstimulation, but you have other plans in mind. You gather whatever is left of your self-control through a shaky sigh, “…but you have to wait until later.”

His parted lips brush against the nape of your neck, tickling the tiny hairs with every languid sweep of his mouth. You have to give it to him for trying because you can’t help but grind your ass against him because of it. “You are a cruel, cruel woman. I think making me wait for birthday sex is the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

You giggle, imagining the pout on his face while separating him from your back with a nudge of your elbow. “For some reason, I think you’ll survive.” He retaliates with a nip at your skin with a squeeze of your breast through your tank top. “And stop trying to make me horny, Joshua Michael.”

“Oh, did you just full name me?” He scoffs as he props himself on an elbow to look over you. You bury your face into the pillow to muffle your laughter just as he leans in to place a kiss below your ear through a smile.“I’ll wait, but I will make no promises on that.”

His soft hands slide along the top of your thighs, slipping below your cotton dress to find the divots of your waist, pulling you even closer. While his thumbs trace along the thin band of your thong, he tips his chin up, breathing in the floral scent of the perfume that you’ve sprayed to the pulse points of your neck. “Giving me my present late, baby?”

You glance over to his left to see Jake acting restless as if he’s been contemplating whether to stay or go, most like a response from thinking this is a private moment between you and his brother. You hum in thought, redirecting your focus while taking Josh’s chin between your fingers and thumb. “I think you might have to share this one, Joshy.”

While you predict that there might be a spark of jealousy from your implication, you’re only met with Josh exchanging a certain look with his twin. One that’s mischievous and knowing given the grin that’s curling on the corners of his lips, causing Jake’s unsure expression to transform in seconds. Usually, silent communication is something you choose to usually ignore, accepting that it’s the product of this dynamic you share. This time, however, is one of those times you wish you could hear all of their inner thoughts.

You guide his attention back to you by bringing him in for a kiss, releasing your hold on his face, and letting your fingers roam over the path of buzzed hair to wrap around the nape of his neck. He’s impatient and greedy, licking across your lips to taste you without a care in the world that they are coated in a velvety-pink hue. He tastes like the tequila and soda he’s been sipping on throughout the afternoon, giving you a teaser of how your evening will pan out. His thumbs hook around the band of your panties while his fingers massage into the supple flesh of your hips. 

Before you run the risk of venturing too far and losing yourself, you break away from him and lean into Jake. He’s startled at first by the brazenness of the action, but melts into the kiss nonetheless, deepening it with every reconnection of your lips. He’s more reserved than Josh today, staying cautious and calculated with the gentle passes of his tongue along yours. He holds your face with his hand as you’re hit with the strong tartness of lime as he had recently sucked on the wedge now floating in his glass only moments prior. You take a needed breath, and because you’ve caught him before he’s gotten ready for the evening and had the chance to put on his favorite cologne, the only things you smell are the detergent off his t-shirt and his natural scent. 

The kiss is continued along his jawline, and he quickly offers you the expanse of his throat with the upward tilt of his head. You spoil his warm, soft skin with lasting kisses, following the delicious path to his ear, and whisper in your sultriest voice, “You can unbutton your pants now, birthday boy.”

While Jake scrambles to pop open his belt, you slowly sit back on Josh’s lap to admire your work of art before you — both your boys covered in a collection of your lipstick marks. Josh is grinning at you, basking in the afternoon sun with smears of pink across both of his lips. Jake is in a similar state, peering down at you through heavy lids as he palms himself over his boxer briefs. 

“So this present…” Josh massages his fingers into your waist as he grinds himself against you. “Can I unwrap it?”

You bite at your bottom lip as you give him the go-ahead with an enthusiastic nod. He needs no other signal and grabs fistfuls of the dress that’s bunched up around the top of your legs, and before he can pull it off you, Jake interrupts with an extended hand,  “Careful!” While Josh freezes his movements, he pauses to look at you before adding, “That’s a new dress, isn’t it, dove?”

You blush at the thought of Jake paying enough attention to you to know what’s new in your wardrobe. “It is. Do you like it?”

“I love it.” There’s something about the drawl of his gravelly voice that holds a deeper intrigue.

“Sorry, baby.” Josh watches his fingertips trace over the tiny roses on the pattern of your dress, traveling up the curves of your body until they stop at your neckline. They dance along the supple skin on the tops of your breasts until he decides to tug on the hanging strings that you’ve tied into a bow as he whispers, “I love it too. It’s beautiful on you.”

With Jake’s instruction, Josh makes a point to be more careful with removing the dress from you. He peels it up your body with your help of lifting your arms as he pulls it over your head. You arch your back to give them the best view of the lingerie set you’ve picked out, hoping they notice that your dress matches perfectly with its sheer white fabric that’s adorned with tiny embroidered pink roses. 

You had chosen it for its soft and feminine details, so sensual in its delicate floral elements that carry a certain grace of spring — something that seems so fitting for this day. From what you can tell, it’s clearly stirring something in Jake for him to see you like this when he’s only ever witnessed you in black or red garments. Josh, however, would probably fuck you if you wearing nothing but one of those cheap Halloween banana costumes. To him, all lingerie you wear is a treat, even if it will most likely end up on the floor minutes later. 

They both stare for several seconds, looking you up and down and in unison, mutter under their breath, “Fuck…”

Jake dares to reach his hand out, presenting the image of the skull inked across the top to the touch to the band of your panties resting on your hip before trailing his fingers toward the embroidered roses decorating the front. Josh is busy focusing solely on your chest, fixating on the same pink flowers on the cups and straps of your bra.

Josh lowers his mouth to your covered breast to graze his lips across your hardening nipple through the lace. The heat of his breath clings to your skin, adding to the sensation of his wet tongue licking across the fabric. You feel the metal of his piercing, which causes a whine to leave your mouth without warning. While he commits to showering your chest with attention, his open hands begin to roam up the length of your back.

Once Josh’s nimble fingers find the metal clasps, Jake interrupts for a second time, but with a noticeable desperation in his voice, “No, wait! Leave them on her.”

He abandons the hooks to play with the straps instead, mumbling into the hollow point of your throat, “Looks like these are a favorite, baby.”

Your preparation has paid off and you can’t hold back the smile forming as you kiss him again. He’s not as rushed this time by letting you take the lead, and while you stay for only a moment, you eventually leave his lips to make your way down his throat as you slide down his body. You take your time placing each perfectly pink imprint of your lips onto his golden-tanned skin until you’re stopped by the collar of his crewneck.

He throws his hands back behind his head as his throaty laugh fills the room. “I fucking love birthdays.”

You sink to the floor between his legs, thankful for the living room rug that’s padding your bare knees. Adjusting to the new position, you run your hands over his legs to massage the tops of his thighs, inching closer with each roll of your fingers over his tight-fitting jeans. He responds by shifting forward on the cushion, extending his back in such a way that gives you easier access to the button of his pants. 

You can see he’s struggling to stay patient with how hard he is — his cock throbbing wildly within his right pant leg without reprieve.  You add to the torment by ghosting over the very obvious erection and dipping your fingers underneath the hem of his shirt, pushing up the soft material up his torso to expose the sensitive skin of his belly. You linger around the metal button of his pants, playing up the act you’re putting on before popping it open with a flick of your wrist. 

Jake disrupts the moment by speaking up, revealing some annoyance in his tone as he asks, “Why does he always get to go first?”

Before you have a chance to respond, Josh huffs out a harsh laugh, “Because I’m older, dipshit.”

His go-to remark makes you think back to the memory of that first night you had spent together in the tattoo shop, causing a smile and blush to appear. As much as you enjoy every intimate moment with each of them, the times like these always stirred something special in you. 

“By five fucking minutes!”

Josh only taunts back, “And you’ll never live it down.”

To avoid ruining the moment, Jake concedes with an aggravated grumble,  “Asshole.”

While they’re preoccupied with their immature bickering, you start pulling the zipper of Josh’s jeans at a painstakingly slow pace, taking his attention away from Jake and back to your hands. You peel the fabric away to the sides, revealing his white boxer briefs as you squeeze his covered cock through the denim.

Despite the fact you’re concentrating solely on Josh, Jake is the one to scold you, “Stop teasing.”

“I will when you stop playing with your boxers and decide to finally pull your cock out,” you quip back, giving him more attitude than you ever have before. You cast your eyes away as you can’t look at him directly in fear of what his next words will be. If it wasn’t for Josh acting as your buffer to save you from punishment, you probably wouldn’t have risked it.

The following seconds are thick with tension from Jake staring down at you and Josh’s stunned expression frozen on his face as he fights back the laugh that wants to escape him. 

Jake eventually releases a heavy sigh, muttering under his breath, “Smart ass.”

A giggle escapes you and Josh quickly joins in, earning himself a painful smack to his arm from the back of Jake’s hand. “Ouch!”

Jake finally takes your cue and pulls himself out of the snug-fitting black cotton. You watch him while slipping your hand beneath Josh’s, causing a loud, visceral groan to push past his lips the second you touch him. He’s warm in your hand, the suede-soft feel of skin brushing against your palm as you wrap your fingers around his length. Feeling the heavy pulse of his heartbeat, you retrieve his cock from the restrictions of his pants and boxers, bringing him out into the open air.

You look up to see Josh peeking through his lust-draped lids, his mouth hanging open in anticipation with panting breaths puffing past his lips. He prepares himself for what’s about to happen by reaching for his drink that’s been sitting on the end table, and taking a large sip of the liquid courage. You extend your free hand, silently asking for a sip as well. 

The tequila soda is watered down considerably at this point, but you’re not worried about the alcohol or taste. What you’re after is the cube of ice that you’ve now dropped into your mouth, stashing it safely against your tongue before handing the glass back to him. Without wasting another second, you place a chilled kiss on the head of his cock, causing a violent shiver to roll through his spine. 

The muscles in his body go rigid as he sucks in a sharp breath when you slide him across your cold tongue. After a few seconds of keeping the ice pressed against the side of his cock, he begins to relax as it starts melting in the heat of your mouth. An unexpected grunt leaves him through this, and he follows the sound with a string of curses as the dual mixture of temperatures overloads his brain. 

Josh wets his lips, mumbling out into the open, “Oh my god, that feels so good.”

The shocking surge of cold, soothed with the intoxicating heat of your mouth is sending him closer to the edge than both of you expect. You swirl your warming tongue around his cock while keeping the base of him wrapped with a loose fist. You know everything that Josh enjoys, the feather-light flicks of your tongue beneath the head of his cock, the twisting strokes of your fingers, the gentle sucking with your lips sealed around him — a sensation that keeps his brain buzzing. 

Your reward is the pitchy whimpers echoing in the base of his throat as his adam’s apple bobs with each harsh swallow, the clawing of his own fingers across his chest and legs, the way he throws his head back and clamps his eyes shut.

With one hand still wrapped around him, you feel across Jake’s right thigh with the other, taking his cock from his loose grasp and finding that he’s just as hard to the touch. You stare at him through your lashes as you start to stroke him at a lazy pace, watching his expression shift with every one of your movements. While holding your gaze, he tips his head slightly forward and parts his mouth, and allows a long, dripping trail of spit to fall from his bottom lip, down to the head of his cock. 

It hits your hand as well, causing your now-wet fingers to glide over his length with ease. The lewd image takes your breath away, causing you to stall on Josh as he stays right below your lips, just as Jake intended. Satisfied, a cocky smirk hooks the corner of his mouth as he leans back against the cushion. 

You twist your hand up and down the length of  Jake’s cock, admiring every detail that makes him unique. He’s hot to the touch, throbbing against your fingers each time you slow

Josh doesn’t seem to notice the display and writhes against your arms in need of release. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

The praise sparks your need aching between your thighs, and you push his cock into your mouth, sinking onto him in a single motion, nudging the tip of his cock as far as it can go. You relax the muscles in steady, deep breaths, opening your throat to push him that much farther. It’s another thing that takes him by surprise, causing his fingers to fly to your hair as he breathes, “Holy shit.”

You hear Jake’s raspy chuckle above you, “I taught her that little trick.”

The new technique combined with the dancing rolls of your tongue to the underside of him sends him over in seconds. His body simply acts out of his control now, causing his hips to buck, the grasp around your hair to tighten, and for him to whine with brimming urgency, “I-I’m gonna cum, baby. Baby—“

He pants your name like a mantra, erupting into the back of your throat through a shaky thrust, emptying on your tongue as you swallow his release down. You lick him up, not wanting to leave a single drop of him until the overstimulation starts to set in. You eventually come to a stopping point, and withdraw him from your mouth to place an open kiss on the cherry tattoo before biting at the soft flesh of his stomach just to feel him squirm. 

While his chest heaves with every ragged breath as he collects himself, you slide away from his lap and slow yourself between Jake’s legs. He sweeps the fallen lock of hair from your cheek and tucks it behind your ear, giving you that recognizable devilish grin he always seems to have with you. 

You continue stroking Jake as he tugs at your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, showing your bottom row of teeth while cooing in a silken voice, “That’s a pretty shade on you, dove. What’s this one called?”

Before you answer him, you wrap your painted lips around his thumb, sucking it into your mouth to leave the faint pink ring around the base, pulling away enough to whisper in a heavy breath, “Love Trap.”

He moans at the feeling of your tongue licking across his skin, humming in approval, “Well, that’s fitting.” 

You kiss the shaft of his cock as your fingers work around him, taking the opportunity to tease him before he ultimately takes control. Josh begins to move in his seat and reaches down to guide you up off the floor, repositioning you so that your knee sinks into the cushion with your other foot planted on the floor. You sense him dropping down to his knees behind you, feeling his hands explore the curves of your hips and ass. 

You whine from the proposition and look over your shoulder. “Josh…the present was supposed to be about you.”

He giggles, watching your eyes as he buries his face between your legs so you feel the hot air clinging to your body with each drawn-out exhale. He kisses the fabric covering your core, making you instantly clench around him, before answering in a pleased sigh, “Oh baby, this is the present.”

You guide Jake past your lips just as Josh’s fingers feel the bands of your thong that rest on either side of your hip, pulling at them slightly to release with a teasing snap against your skin. He curls his fingers around them and slowly tugs them down, carefully maneuvering your legs to remove them from your body. 

“Happy Birthday,” he calls out to Jake, slingshotting the lingerie over you for him to catch. You watch from below as he feels the delicate material between his thumbs as if entranced in his world by the garment alone. He then does something you don’t expect by holding them up to his face — burying his nose in the white fabric woven between his fingers — to breathe in your scent. As it fills his head and lungs, his fingers pull at your hair while his eyes flutter closed with a low groan rumbling deep in his chest.

Josh sucks at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs hard enough to bruise the flesh between his teeth, leaving little pink marks of his own while his fingers slip between your folds. You jolt at the feeling of him rubbing with firm pressure against your clit, and moan around Jake as he glides across your flattened tongue.

With one hand bracing your hip, the tip of Josh’s tongue glides through you in a single pass, the taste of you causing him to groan in satisfaction as he hears your muffled whimpers. He always loves to take his time and edge you, but you’re too impatient for that today and back into him, begging him for more.

There’s no denying that focusing on Jake is difficult, but you’re adamant to take the challenge. You use every trick you know, every learned detail that drives him insane. Whereas Josh prefers the drawn-out tease, Jake wants the full show. He wants to see the trails of drool leaking past your swollen lips and the black tears streaming down your face. You give it to him, playing off the sounds he makes in return, gauging how hard his fingers pull at your hair.

Meanwhile, Josh devours you like you’re his last meal on Earth, knowing that he doesn’t have much time with how close Jake seems to be, and abandons his usual method of teasing you for as long as you can stand it. The determined rolls and laps of his tongue across your swollen clit make gag around Jake through a groan, causing a growl to rip through his teeth, “Yeah, dove. Fucking choke on it.”

His hand snakes to the back of your head to push you farther down his cock, the pressure threatening to make your throat spasm around him again. You know Josh heard it from how he suddenly pauses every movement of his tongue, stalling inches from you before pulling away from you. “Jake…”

Jake doesn’t seem to register Josh’s concern, as this is a normal thing between the two of you. He’s falling into his role, emphasizing his point with a tug of your hair as you continue working your mouth around him, “Spit on her. She likes feeling it run down her pussy and thighs.”

You can sense Josh’s apprehension by the way his fingers press into your hips and the whispered curse slipping past his lips. He takes a second to think about it until he eventually obliges by spitting directly onto you, causing you a shudder to roll through you and your toes to curl as his saliva drips down your pussy and thighs — just as Jake had described. 

Josh runs his fingers through the added wetness, mesmerized by your reaction, causing Jake’s ego to run at a high as he croons, “See? I fucking told you, didn’t I?”

You’ve been so turned on throughout the day, that it doesn’t take much for him to take you to the edge of your tipping point. You chase only it by forcing Jake as deep as he can go, impressing him with the skills he’s so clearly proud of you for. He’s fighting it through every drag of his nails across the dark wash denim of his jeans as he curls his fingers over his lap. His chest is tight with every strained breath his lungs push out as he tries to hold out for as long as he can, but there’s no secret he’s closer than you are. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get to the point where you’re no longer concentrating on Jake, but rather on the work of Josh’s tongue licking and tasting you, gagging around his cock again. You pull him from your mouth to catch your breath and compensate with your hand, revealing how desperate you’re becoming when you cry out, “Josh… please don’t stop. I’m so fucking close.” 

Your words must have affected him because seconds after your pathetic plea hits Jake’s ears, he unravels before you without the same warning Josh had managed to give you. The first shot hits your face as a cursed apology leaves his lips, making you flinch before you have the chance to wrap your mouth around him again. You can’t be bothered to care, taking your reward, swallowing him down just as you had done so with Josh.

Josh’s fingers dig into your hips with his determination to make you cum, filling the room with the obscene sounds of his mouth on you. With the final circle drawn over your clit with his pointed tongue, your orgasm comes crashing down, sending you into the unforgiving waves of your pleasure. He rides it out through listless passes from your entrance to your overstimulated clit until your legs begin to shake around him. 

He finishes with a kiss and presses his sweat-covered forehead against your ass as he calms his breathing before sitting fully on the floor to rest the back of his head on the armrest. After taking the time to come down, you stretch out your limbs and stand on your feet, seeing Jake completely spent. You note the beads of sweat that also cover his forehead and brow, how his eyes are staying closed as he licks across his lips, the way his t-shirt is wrinkled beyond belief as his softening cock is between his stomach and the band of his boxers. 

As per usual, Josh is the one to finally break the silence, “I think it’s safe to say that beats getting socks.” Jake even chuckles at the dumb joke, joining in the collective laughter between all three of you. 

Suddenly aware of your disheveled state, you look down at Josh sitting cross-legged at your feet, and ask, “Is my makeup messed up?”

His gaze climbs your mostly naked form before it reaches your face to study the damage. He puts up a weak attempt to hide the smile while brushing his fingers across your outer thigh, admitting with that special glimmer in his eye, “Uh…I think we might have to freshen you up, baby.”

You giggle, wiping your finger beneath your eye to gather the wet mascara that had started to run.“That bad?”

He slowly stands to his feet, pulling you into a close embrace with hands locked around your lower back, and mumbles into your cheek, “Nothing a shower can’t fix.”

Realizing that Jake has no intentions of moving anytime soon, you follow Josh’s lead as he takes you by the hand toward the bathroom. Once you’re in the hallway, he pulls you in closer now that he’s out of earshot from his twin with concern laden in his voice, “Is that how he speaks to you? Do you like that?” You try to think of a well-thought-out response, but expression tells him everything he needs to know, making him shake his head. “I think I learn something new about you every day.”

TAGLIST:

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#gvf fic #gvf smut #skin deep fic #josh kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka au #Jake Kiszka tattoo au #josh kiszka au #skin deep au #skin deep #gvf fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf twin series #gvf twin au #gvf twin fic series #gvf twin fic #jake kiszka fic #josh kiszka x you #josh kiszka x y/n #josh kiszka x reader

[kirby0strombolli]

Ghostface | Matt Sturniolo P3

'What's the matter Sidney? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

ghostface!matt x reader

Chapter 3: liar.

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5

warnings: SMUT!, jerking off, cursing.

a/n: I've never written smut before bear with me guys 😭

______________________________________________________________

y/n's pov

"What's the matter, y/n?" he peers at me with utter malice in his eyes . "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I turned to cry out for help, but his hand closed around my mouth, muffling my screams.

Panic surged through me like a tidal wave. I struggled against his iron grip, but it was futile.

My vision began to blur, the world spinning around me as I fought to stay conscious.

'She had a bit too much to drink,' he chuckled to someone in the distance that I couldn't see.

His words echoed in my mind, each syllable a dagger of betrayal.

Lies. He's a liar. I thought in my head, unable to speak from the strong grip he had over my mouth.

No doubt he'd take me to his car and toss me into the trunk like all the unfortunate girls in the horror movies.

My heart pounded in my chest as the realization hit me like a freight train. My life had been turned into a horror movie - a nightmare that I couldn't escape.

Panic surged through me as I struggled against his grip, but it was no use. Matt's strength was overpowering, and I was helpless against him.

But before I could confront him, he removed his hand from my mouth, allowing me to speak. With trembling lips, I managed to stutter out, 'you're a liar.'

After receiving no reply, I gritted my teeth and braced myself for the inevitable, expecting to be roughly thrown into the trunk on his car.

But to my surprise, I felt Matt's touch gentle, not forceful. Instead of being tossed aside like a discarded toy, I was gently laid across the backseat of the car, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion.

I fought to stay conscious, my eyelids heavy as lead, but the world around me blurred into a chaotic mess of shadows and lights.

My fingers clawed at the seat, desperately seeking something to hold onto, but my strength was waning, slipping away like sand through my trembling hands.

Each breath felt like a struggle, the air thick and suffocating as it filled my lungs.

I could hear Matt's voice, distant and muffled as if coming from underwater. He spoke of things I couldn't comprehend, his words swirling around me in a dizzying whirlwind of confusion and fear.

But one sentence stood out to me, 'I killed him '.

But despite my best efforts, consciousness slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, until finally, I succumbed to the darkness, my mind plunging into the abyss of unconsciousness, and confusion.

______________________________________________________________

Matt's pov

As I drove down the deserted road, the weight of my actions hung heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket.

Guilt gnawed at the edges of my conscience, as I tried to ignore the growing erection in my pants. But, as I glanced at her through the rearview mirror, a rush of desire surged through me, igniting an insatiable urge of lust.

Her disheveled hair framed her face in a tantalizingly tousled manner, her lips parted ever so slightly as she struggled to regain consciousness.

With each passing moment, my arousal grew, fueled by the soft murmurs and faint moans escaping her unconscious state.

It was wrong, I knew it, after the events at the party, the carnage that she had no idea about...

I couldn't bring myself to ignore my now painfully hard cock, stealing glances at her until I couldn't take it anymore.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with desire and temptation. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white as I struggled to suppress the lust and desire I had been battling with.

But with each delicate sound she made, a surge of heat washed over me, eroding whatever restraint I had left.

Closing my eyes briefly, I took a deep, steadying breath, attempting to quell the storm raging inside me. Even as I tried to resist, the pull of temptation was too strong to ignore.

This was wrong- I shouldn't be feeling like this when- I was interrupted by a loud moan, the lewd sounds going straight to my pulsing length.

'fuck it.' I muttered under my breath pulling the car over, wasting no time unbuttoning my jeans.

______________________________________________________________

y/n's pov

My head is pounding.

we're not moving. the car is not moving.

'fuck y/n'

The sound goes straight to my core, and I realise I'm wet before I even open my eyes.

As my eyelids flutter open, and I find myself gazing at Matt, who was pleasuring himself, his eyes screwed shut, his hand is pumping his cock, pleasured whimpers to slipping out of his mouth.

With each word, his tone grew more urgent, more fervent, until he was practically pleading, "Please, baby, I need you."

Unable to tear my gaze away, I watched transfixed as Matt's hand moved rhythmically over his length, each movement making me more wetter.

His soft groans filled the air, mingling with the sound of my own ragged breaths as arousal surged through me.

And then, as if unable to contain himself any longer, he succumbed to the overwhelming need, his voice breaking in a guttural moan of pleasure.

Despite the confusion and fear swirling in my mind, I couldn't deny the undeniable heat pooling between my thighs.

Rubbing my thighs together, I shifted uncomfortably against the seat, my body aching with need as a wave of desire washed over me.

Despite the wrongness of the situation, I couldn't deny the overwhelming hunger that pulsed through my veins.

______________________________________________________________

With a newfound surge of boldness, she mustered up the courage to speak, her voice dripping with seduction. "Need a hand there, ghostface?" she purred, gesturing to the mask that lay on the centre console

A wicked grin spread across Matt's face as he met her gaze, his eyes sparkling with lust. "Ride me, cowgirl," he growled, his voice seductively low.

After throwing off her denim skirt, she made her way to the driver's seat, to be met with the sight of Matt, his red tip now leaking with pre-cum.

With a sultry smile, she straddled him, feeling his hardness pressing against her as she sank down onto his lap.

As she sank onto Matt's lengthy dick, she threw her head back in pleasure, as she, at an agonisingly slow pace, began to rock her hips against his, back and forth.

In a haze of desire, Matt reached for the cowboy hat resting nearby and gently placed it on her head. "You look so sexy, ma," he whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine

Matt's eyes began to close as he gripped her hips tightly as she quickened her pace, beginning to bounce on his dick, as his lips connected with her neck, marking what was his.

He began to trail his lips down to her chest and let out a deep groan as she clenched around him, bucking his hips up as y/n's eyes began to glaze over in pleasure, her mouth open, small gasps audible over Matt's deep groans.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You're mine," before sinking his teeth gently into her neck again , marking her as his.

Her breath hitched at her possessive declaration, his hands moving down to her ass, and squeezing, making her clench around his cock.

'I'm yours' she whined, her tits bouncing urgently as she chased her climax. That's when Matt became rough, the grip on her ass getting tighter and tighter as he pushed her down onto his cock, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Matt's hands roamed eagerly over her, tracing every curve with a hunger that matched her own. With each thrust of her hips, she surrendered to the ecstasy coursing through her veins, her moans mingling with his.

As Matt thrust into her, his movements became more urgent, his every motion calculated to send waves of pleasure crashing over her.

With each deep penetration, he seemed to hit her g-spot with pinpoint precision, eliciting moans of ecstasy from deep within her throat.

As she felt the climax building inside her, she arched her back, pressing her body tightly against Matt's as . "Oh, fuck... Matt...Don't stop!" she cried out, her voice filled with raw desire.

She arched her back, pressing her body closer to his as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, her breath hot against his skin,"Shit, that's it, baby... Come for me," Matt urged, his eyes closed in pleasure.

As they both tumbled over the edge, curse words spilled from his lips, lost in the throes of ecstasy. As she sighed in pleasure, her eyes fluttered shut.

Impossibly, she slept.

taglist:@lexisecretaccx@itssophiasstuff@junnniiieee07

comment if you want to be added to the taglist a/n: I couldn't write the smut with a straight face I'm sorry 😭

shoutout to @freshloveforthefit and @louiscarrotsxoxo because they're amazing.

#matt sturniolo #smut #sturniolo smut #ghostface #matt sturniolo x reader

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Close Call- Kelly Severide/Matt Casey

Summary: While recovering from a concussion, you go with Matt on an alderman run. When things go sideways, Kelly comes to the rescue.

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR 05x04, vomiting, cursing.

Authors note: THANK YOU ALL FOR THE SUPPORT! I’ve been pretty sick recently, but I figured I would post given that YOU GUYS got one of MY fics to 400! I know that’s not a lot on this site, but it’s a lot to me and I am MORE than grateful for the support and love that you guys show me.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You had gone with Matt to check out the warehouse. Kelly was on shift today, but you had been recovering from a concussion and decided to just tag along with Matt to get out of the apartment. Matt didn’t fight you on your decision, seeing as it was just suppose to be a quick inspection.

When the acid tank was punctured, Matt quickly pushed you into the break room. The man on the forklift didn’t make it and the owner was suppose to make it outside to call for help. When Matt pushed you in, you tripped and hit your head on the way down. Once Matt turned around to check on you after packing the crack under the door, he realized that you were out cold.

“Shit.” Matt muttered. He quickly made his way to your head, checking your pulse before trying to wake you up. “Baby. Baby. Please open your eyes.” Matt called, rubbing your sternum to wake you up. With a sigh of relief, Matt watched as your eyes fluttered open.

You groaned and reached for your head. Your vision was slightly blurry and you were a little confused. “Matt?” You slurred. “Wha?” You were trying to get your bearings as you glanced around the room.

“Eyes up here baby.” Matt called, coming closer. “Bright light.” Matt only gave that warning before checking your pupils with the flash light on his phone. Once he was satisfied that you probably just aggravated the previous concussion, Matt pulled you off the floor and sat you on one of the tables. “You know where you are?” Matt asked, keeping one hand on you and searching for a cell signal with the other.

“We came to a warehouse.” You muttered, pulling your knees up and resting your head on them before popping up with a gasp. “Holy shit Matt. The acid.” You looked around wildly, almost like you expected to see the walls melting around you.

“I know baby, but I’m gonna get us out of here.” Matt soothed. “Just stay here for a second.” Matt said, planting a kiss on your forehead before pushing a table to the door to look out the window over it. He had his phone in his hand, also hoping to get a signal. Luckily, he got just enough to send a text to Kelly.

MAYDAY.

——————————————

One thing that Kelly was now grateful for was the location app that he shared with you and Matt. As soon as the Mayday came through, Kelly had Boden put out a distress call and send practically everyone to you and Matt. When he couldn’t raise either one of you on the phone after he received the text, Kelly knew you were both in danger.

——————————————-

“Matt?” You whispered just loud enough to get his attention.

“Yeah sweetheart?” Matt muttered, not bothering to look at you while he continued to scavenge for anything to keep you both alive.

“I don’t feel well.” You whispered, punctuating the sentence with a cough.

Matt turned around, eyes growing wide as he noticed the fumes coming in from a vent close to the table you were sat on. “Shit. Baby, come here.” Matt rushed out, grabbing you and carrying you to the other side of the room. Matt quickly went and taped the vent shut using some masking tape he found in a locker. It wouldn’t do much, but it would buy you guys enough time for the crew to come rescue you.

You laid back on the table, curling to the side as the room spun and your stomach churned. You felt hot and lightheaded. You weren’t sure if it was due to the concussion, panic, breathing in those fumes, or all of the above.

When Matt turned back to you again, he was growing increasingly worried. You were so pale. Matt ran back to you, sitting on a chair and taking your hand in his, rubbing the back with the pad of his thumb. “Talk to me. What’s going on?” Matt asked, running a hand through your hair.

“Hot. Dizzy. Nauseous.” You explained. Short and to the point in fear of throwing up all over your boyfriend.

Matt hummed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Hang on for me baby.” Matt whispered, giving your hand one last squeeze before he moved to the wall next to you, spotting a pipe in the wall that led to the next room.

“Don’t plan on going anywhere.” You whispered, curling into yourself further.

Just as Matt got the pipe out of the wall, a door in the next room slammed open. “MATT!” Kelly screamed, running into the room.

Matt could just see him through the hole the pipe left. “Kelly!” Matt yelled back, drawing Kelly’s attention to the small hole. “Y/n tagged along. She’s not feeling so hot.” Matt rushed. “You gotta get her out of here.”

“I’ll get you both out.” Kelly said, making it sound like a promise that he would never break.

Matt was satisfied and made his way back over to you while Squad worked their way into the room. Matt kept you covered from the debris and made sure you stayed awake. You were extremely tired, drifting in and out of awareness.

As soon as the hole was big enough, Matt scooped you up and helped you through to Kelly’s awaiting arms. You immediately snuggled into his turnout, seeking comfort in the smell of Kelly that wafted from the coat.

“I got you hunny.” Kelly whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Get her out of here.” Matt yelled, climbing through the hole himself. “I’m right behind you.”

Kelly didn’t wait any longer. He strode outside with you securely in his arms. He was puzzled when you scrambled to get out of his hold as soon as the sunlight hit your face.

Stumbling a few feet away, you bent over, bracing your hands on your knees, and puked violently. Kelly was quick to catch up, holding you by the waist so that you wouldn’t fall down.

“Dawson, I need you and Brett around back. Y/N is really messed up.” Kelly called through his radio. “Bring a few sick bags and some fluids.”

“Copy.” Dawson shot back a second later.

Matt came up behind you and Kelly, reaching a hesitant hand out to your back. Now that he was out and you were safe, Matt was feeling a bit sick himself.

Kelly looked over at Matt when he saw how hesitant his hand was as he reached for you. Kelly could see that Matt was pale and shaking. “Case?” Kelly called, reaching a hand out to Matt.

This seemed to snap something in Matt, who turned and doubled over to vomit on the ground to Kelly’s right. Matt groaned, trying to get himself together as he slightly staggered back into Kelly’s hip as Kelly attempted to support both you and Matt.

“What the fuck?” Dawson called, running with Brett, stretcher packed with a go bag and a few other items on it.

“I don’t know.” Kelly called. “Can you help Matt please?” He asked, practically holding your weight in one arm.

Dawson was quick to nod, switching with Kelly to hold Matt steady and rub his back while the vomiting passed. Dawson and Kelly were sure this was pure adrenaline, but they were also worried about Matt passing out. Dawson held Matt by the hips, pressing him into her side to keep him balanced while she rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him as he heaved.

Kelly had you by both hips. He was contemplating lowering you to the ground when Brett popped up next to his shoulder.

“Here.” She called, handing Kelly a sick bag for you. “Get this under her chin and lift her onto the stretcher. We gotta get her to the ambo and get her checked out.”

Kelly nodded and took the bag. “Baby.” Kelly called. “Try to breathe for me. I’ve got a sick bag here. We gotta get you loaded up. Can you take this for me so I can pick you up?” Kelly asked, rubbing your right arm as he watched you shake and spasm with every heave.

As a reply, you reached out for the bag and sucked in a huge breath so that you could place it under your chin. Once you had it secure, you put an arm around Kelly’s neck and allowed him to lift you onto the stretcher. “Ma- hurk” you tried to call for your other boyfriend, but a heave cut you off.

Kelly shushed you, pushing your hair further away from your face. “Dawson has him.” Kelly murmured, glancing in their direction. “He’s catching his breath. He’s okay.” Kelly told you sincerely, kissing your forehead. “Let’s worry about you.”

Kelly helped Brett push you to the ambo and load you up while the rest of the crew worked on cleaning up the spill. Everyone gave their lieutenants some privacy and kept their heads in the game. Matt wasn’t far behind the stretcher, finally having caught his breath and feeling able to take a few steps without Gabbi’s help.

“She hit her head again.” Matt called out, climbing into the back of the ambo with you, Kelly, and Brett. Gabbi closed the doors and got into the drivers seat. She called Med before pulling away from the scene.

Brett did a full concussion exam and ran your vitals on the way to med. Kelly helped Matt clean up and held your hand. Somewhere along the way, you finally stopped vomiting, but you weren’t able to focus on them, which scared both of your lovers half to death.

Upon arrival, Connor and Natalie took you in with April and Maggie. The four of them did a quick work up while Will checked Matt over in the next room. Once they got you on some more fluids and some electrolytes, you finally started coming around. Matt was the first one you saw when you opened your eyes.

“Close call?” You asked, looking at the tears in his eyes.

“Too close.” Matt whispered, kissing your head.

“Never again.” Kelly whispered, drawing your attention to him, now noticing that he was clutching your hand, still in his turnouts with a tear stained face.

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #matt casey #kelly severide #fluff #matt casey x reader #comfort #kelly severide x reader #emeto #emetophilia

[mariettebonneville]

─𝟎𝟕 【𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦】 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐧-𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

In the aftermath of profound loss, the boundaries between hope and despair can blur, and even the strongest of convictions can be tested.

Geto Suguru, a man whose presence was once a pillar of strength in the Jujutsu community, found himself adrift in a sea of vengeance, the darker waves pulling him further from the shores of the righteous path he had once walked. Suguru found every waking moment drenched in the dissonance of unbridled fury and wrenching sorrow.

The streets no longer hummed with the innocent chatter of passersby, at least not for him. Every face held a story, a fate he deemed undeserving to continue amid the veil of ignorance.

It was a crisp evening when your paths first crossed. The autumn leaves were painted with vibrant hues of red and orange. You were a simple florist, your days spent arranging bouquets for the joyful and sorrowful moments of human life. Your hands, though calloused from work, offered beauty to the world in small, tangible ways.

She was ignorance personified – blissful, untouched, and radiant.

Her little flower shop stood as a colorful anomaly in the grayscale palette of his vengeance-laden world. He’d pass it every day since Riko’s death, a silent sentinel observing a life untainted by curses.

He didn't know why her smile, offered so generously to anyone who passed her small shop, slowed the searing anger in his veins.

It was a puzzle, an anomaly that shouldn't have been possible according to his new creed. A human, a non-sorcerer, who should have been nothing more than a blur in his peripheral vision as he pursued his grand, grim design.

Yet there he was, lingering at the fringe of her warmth – a shadow amongst her blooms.

Her name was [Name], and she knew nothing of cursed spirits, of the battles fought in the silence of the night. To her, he was just another customer, albeit one who scarcely spoke and rarely bought anything.

Days turned into weeks, and with each visit to your shop, the heavy veil lifted slightly from Suguru's shoulders. His purpose never wavered, but an anomaly had appeared in his grand design—a question mark in the form of a mere mortal who dealt with the most mundane aspects of life.

"Will you not buy a flower?" You asked one day, your voice as gentle as the petals you nursed. "Surely there's someone you wish to give a flower to?"

Suguru's lips had almost curled into a smirk. There was no one left to receive such a fragile token. But your gaze, unguarded and earnest, caught him off-guard.

"No," he had replied, the word more confession than rejection.

Your shared moment was shattered by a silent, chilling alarm—an echo of malice that washed over Suguru's senses. A foul curse crept unseen through the edges of the neighborhood, threatening the delicate balance he had come to appreciate in your presence.

Without a word, Suguru stepped outside. The time had come to protect the fragile peace in which you flourished, and in doing so, he recognized the contradiction inherent in his own nature—an obsession shrouded in the guise of protection.

The clash was swift and brutal, masked from the eyes of ordinary folk yet the residual energy left the air tingling with unease.

When Suguru returned, a subtle shift altered his aura—a blend of foreboding ruthlessness and a newfound shield of guardianship.

The world saw Geto Suguru as a threat, a sorcerer with a warped sense of justice after a heartbreaking betrayal. But in those moments, under the gentle scrutiny of your gaze, he became someone more complex—a savior wrapped in the guise of darkness, caught in between the embrace of his haunting past and the potential for redemption that your smile promised.

Yet, the truth was an ever-present specter. Could he bear to let her remain untainted, or would his darkness seep into her roots?

But as the seasons changed, so too did the rhythm of Suguru's convictions. He didn't notice at first – thoughts of tomorrow replaced by thoughts of you, grand designs eclipsed by the simple authenticity of your smile.

Maybe, just maybe, there was more to humanity worth preserving than he’d allowed himself to believe. Maybe there was hope not in eradication.

Can a heart, once set on a path of destruction, learn to beat to a different rhythm? To find solace in the innocence it aimed to extinguish?

In her garden, life bloomed – bountiful, undiscriminating, and free. And in the heart of a grieving man, a new seed of purpose began to take root, quietly, steadily, beckoning him toward a future where he might learn to live again.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #oneshot #yandere #scenarios #jjk #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #x reader #female reader

[soleilnomoon]

My friend, I heard it's the cool thing to leave things in your inbox and I want to be like the cool kids so here I am. How about a scenario with Kurosaki Ichigo trying to convince S/O to ask HIM out instead of him just doing the asking out himself? It can be whatever you want it to be: comedy, romance, fluff, smut. The choice is yours *finger guns*

sora... love of my life, light in my eyes, wind beneath my wings, etc. etc. etc. u have been so patient, and i'd apologize but u already know what kind of drama this fic put me thru!!! anyway!!! this was a labor of love (as always) yk i only ever want the best for u bbgorl 🥰️🥰️🥰️

5.9k words (DONT LOOK AT ME OMG), fem reader, nsfw, 18+, mdni; there's fluff i promise (who am i), angst bc why not, mutual pining, and smut; ichigo... is a dumbass, and i like seeing him suffer; i also like seeing reader suffer; a wild orihime appears! and some other miscreants. feat. cute things like: hair pulling, slight exhibitionism (shhh), oral (m receiving), dry humping, kIsSiNg, idk alcohol but a tiny bit; ichigo is down bad ok, idk what to tell u; reader is also down bad but she thinks she's being stealthy abt it. (if u see any typos/grammatical errors shhh no u didn't)

“imprison me in your name, let love kill me.” — mahmoud darwish

&

i love you, with a touch of tragedy and quite madly.” — simone de beauvoir

SUNDAY — 12:01 a.m.

in such a vast, mostly unexplored universe — where curses and wishes exist ubiquitously, teetering on opposite ends of a complicated spectrum of morality — there is one universal truth: love is a fucking battlefield. such is the woe of one kurosaki ichigo as he navigates through the various intricacies involved with such a strong emotion. if it was up to him, he wouldn’t suffer through it — but it’s not. his heart is incredibly foolish, his mind even more so; and despite what others might think, he’s not exactly as confident in his capabilities in romance. which is why he’s resorted to mapping out different ways to get you to do the work for him.

mostly because he can’t bear the agonizing feelings that come with vulnerability. so, rather than him ask you out, he’s attempting to get you to do it instead. inspiration strikes when he’s sitting at his desk after midnight, textbooks and notebooks strewn about, his studying long forgotten. ichigo spends an hour or so mulling over the hows and whys of everything, when a brilliant idea — or, series of brilliant ideas, rather — suddenly pops into his head. tearing out a piece of paper from his notebook, he scribbles down his thoughts, as if he’s afraid they’ll leave him forever if he doesn’t find a way to hold onto them. by the time he finishes, his hand is covered in splotches of ink, but he’s satisfied with his work.

he’s not completely sure if it’ll all pan out the way he wants, but he’s willing to give it a shot.

MONDAY — 10:56 a.m

it’s out of pure coincidence that he runs into you at the convenience store. you’re in an aisle with items that are on sale — a mega sale, at that — perusing through the little tubes of lotion and hand sanitizer, admiring the cute designs on each bottle, contemplating how many to buy. he’s tall enough that he spots you before you see him — which takes a long damn time, if he’s honest — but as you busy yourself looking at different items on the shelves, he takes to watching you from afar.

there’s something frighteningly beautiful about the way you make simple things look graceful and magical. from the way you carefully drag your fingertip along the labels, admiring the designs, giggling at some cute artwork; to the way you tilt your head, confusion clouding your vision as you debate internally over which product to buy; to the way you decide to shove as many items into your basket as possible, face flushed at the impropriety of purchasing so many — but they’re on sale, so you justify your shopping before you head to the cashier.

the entire time you move around, you feel his eyes on you; while he might think he’s being stealthy, you’re very aware of his presence. and how could you not be? ichigo isn’t someone you can ignore — nor would you ever try to, he’s such a dynamic person, kind without realizing, stubborn and silly, and, more importantly, incredibly handsome. you think it’s cute how he slinks through each aisle to follow you carefully — dressed as inconspicuously as possible — ducking whenever you turn your face to try and catch him, except he’s so damn tall that he can’t really hide too well.

still, you let him continue playing his little game, and head to the register to check out. maybe he’ll eventually let you in on whatever it is he’s planning if you play along. but he never approaches you, doesn’t call after you when you leave the store, which only leaves disappointment and confusion to fester around your stomach. he curses under his breath as he watches you walk further and further away from him; he’d meant to say something, to call out to you earlier, but nerves got the best of him, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.                                                                                             

TUESDAY — 3:39 p.m.

the library is packed, students crammed into each seat and table along the first few floors. after the fiasco from yesterday, ichigo is that much more determined to make sure that things go according to plan today. again, it’s out of pure coincidence, that he’s also at the library around the same time you are. it’s almost instinctual, the way he spots you right away; he admires the shape of your calves, the way your skirt sits snugly around your wide hips, barely reaching the middle of your thick thighs.

it’s impossible for him not to watch you, not when you pause to look around the floor for an empty seat — teeth sinking into your bottom lip, lashes fluttering every time you blink. he knows how much you hate being in crowds of people, how your focus wanes if there’s too much noise around, and how you like to be away from any sort of distraction — you’re quite the dedicated student, he supposes.

so, it’s no surprise that you bypass the floor he’s on and scurry up the stairs, hand gliding up the wooden railing; an innocuous move that has him clench the pencil in his hand tight enough to crack it. he’s suddenly hit with the desire to be a damn railing — an odd, maddening feeling as absurd as it is debilitating. he almost doesn’t hear his name being called, but he does eventually look away and he’s intercepted by orihime and tatsuki. they implore him to sit with their group to study, much to his annoyance because you’ve left his sight and now he wants to go find you.

but he’ll deal need to deal with them, first.

ichigo reluctantly agrees — only after orihime gives him a sweet, yet pleading look, and tatsuki smirks and mouthing what now, almost as if she’s challenging him to defy their request — and plops down on an empty chair. his long legs knock into the neighboring chair and his complaints are ignored by his friends.

you struggle as you lug your heavy bag upstairs to the fourth floor; it’s eerie there, much too quiet, and for some reason people stay away from it. superstitions run rampant around campus about how everyone who studies on the fourth floor happens to fail every exam and assignment. you’re not one to believe in stupid shit like that, but you do say a quick prayer before settling down on one of the lone tables in the middle of the floor. despite being relatively empty, it’s well-kept and very tidy.

sunlight filters through the thick glass of the windows, illuminating the dated furniture and archaic books that litter the bookshelves nearby. it takes a few minutes, but you set up your textbooks and notes so you can review for your upcoming exam. ten minutes pass before you groan for the fifth time and place your face in your hands. you thought that studying by yourself would give you some distance from ichigo, but unfortunately, he’s been on your mind since yesterday. you chew on your thumbnail and consider your options; for whatever reason, he’s too dense to realize that you like him, but maybe you’ll need to be more forthcoming and upfront — maybe even dangle some bait to encourage him.

WEDNESDAY — 8:12 p.m.

after your first round of exams, you invite ichigo over to your apartment for a movie — a small, celebratory break in between midterms. your argument is sound — although, he would’ve agreed regardless — and he volunteers to come with plenty of snacks. all you can do is nod, you’re much too captivated by the shape of his jaw and with how his lips stretch into a smile. absolutely infuriating. all it does is make him radiate like some damn sun god, and you’re offended by it.

and for some reason, a small flutter in your chest causes you to inhale a sharply — thankfully you’re already on your way out of the lecture hall, walking swiftly in the hopes of permanently ridding yourself of whatever this is. you spend the next few hours obsessively scrubbing and organizing your apartment; by the time ichigo arrives, you’re physically exhausted. you miscalculated quite a bit, naively thinking that a bit of manual labor would cure you of your burdensome desire. but it doesn’t. if anything, you think about him even more. how will you survive with him alone with you during the night?

he's in a similar predicament, having spent the duration of his afternoon obsessively thinking about how best to deal with you — the situation was rather stressful, and while he could just sit down and talk with you honestly, it seemed more appropriate to approach things this way instead. he’s been to your place a handful of times, and he commits just a bit more to memory whenever he can. you’re a colorful person with plants hanging and stacked around cutely; you have an affinity for cooking and have artsy pieces scattered throughout your apartment. it fits you perfectly, and he likes how much more relaxed you are whenever you’re away from campus.

“you weren’t kidding when you said bring a lot of snacks,” you say, disrupting his thoughts, voice light and melodic. you eye the bags in his hands and offer to grab a few; ichigo frowns and lifts the bags away and over your head.

“they’re not heavy,” he says gruffly. he rolls his eyes while walking around you, legs carrying him quickly to the living room. if he didn’t give himself some space, your perfume would hold him hostage again; the last time he was this close, the scent of warm apples and sweet strawberries clung to his lungs with every inhale for at least a week. if he’s not careful, he’ll willingly fall into your trap all over again.

he places the bags on the coffee table before sitting on the couch, legs spread wide as he leans back. he appreciates how comfortable it is — with cushions soft enough to easily lull him to sleep. he fights it, of course, especially when you sit down next to him, thigh casually pressed against his. you don’t seem as bothered about this as he is, and when you cross one shapely leg over the other, he covertly adjusts himself while you’re preoccupied with the tv, leisurely scrolling through the options with the remote.

if he has to pinpoint what to blame, specifically, he’ll say it’s your exposed shoulders and flimsy shorts, your round breasts that stretch out your shirt, and your continued insistence on not wearing a bra whenever you’re alone with him.

he swallows hard and reaches down for one of the water bottles he brought along with the snacks; in the middle of him chugging half of the bottle, you place a hand on his thigh and give it a squeeze. he chokes and coughs a bit, hand clutching the bottle harder than he means to, making the remaining liquid shoot out and splash onto your arm and shirt. a deep flush crawls onto his face and ears as he mumbles an apology; you press your lips together, but barely contain your laughter.

“ichigo, what the hell was that?” you’re grinning so hard that your cheeks hurt. he turns his face and wipes some water from his chin with the back of his hand. “it’s not a big deal, really.” and it isn’t. honestly. you finally pick a movie — something gory and full of suspense — and settle back next to him, body pressed closely to his. the water didn’t help, and your hand is back on his thigh, stroking up and down. you’re not sure what possesses you to do it, but the compulsion hit you hard the moment you saw him sitting on your couch. it’s a pet peeve of yours whenever people take up that much space — the habit is obnoxious and selfish — but since he looks so damn good doing it, you give him an eternal pass.

even through the denim of his jeans, he can feel the heat radiating off of your hand, especially when you brush against his bulge, making his erection that much more painful. his cock is thick and heavy, precum drips through his underwear as he clenches his jaw and inhales through his nostrils. you watch him through your lashes and rub your hand up and down his stiff length. his eyes track your movements, the way your tongue darts out and briefly runs along your lips; he’s sure he could cum just by watching you do that over and over again.

maybe he needs help, or maybe he needs to investigate your lips and tongue properly.

as if commanded by an invisible puppeteer, you lean closer and place a hand on his chest; if there was ever a moment for ichigo to act impulsively, it’s now. he tangles his fingers in your dark curls, firmly gripping, tugging you towards him. he slants his lips against yours, tongue licking inside your mouth, caressing your tongue, bringing a heat through your body, an inferno that won’t ever be satisfied. you climb onto his lap, chest heaving, mumbling nonsense like “what took you so long,” and “stop teasing me, please”, kisses growing sloppy and urgent.

whatever sliver of restraint he has vanishes completely once you grind your hips against his, that familiar ache swirling around your abdomen casts a haze over your mind, making your logic nonexistent. his hands settle on your hips, gripping them hard enough to make you gasp and whine, arousal slipping between your folds and dampening your panties. you roll your hips, slowly at first but picking up the pace when ichigo brings a hand to your ass and slaps it. the sting has you jutting your hips forward, pussy bucking against his clothed cock, moaning pathetically against his lips.

if this is a dream, please don’t wake him; there’s a low pounding in his ears, and he takes a moment to admire the curve of your round ass, cupping it playfully. your nails sink into his shoulders, and he hisses while littering kisses along your jaw and down your throat. you bite down on your lip, stifling another moan. the movie long forgotten, you let out a small squeal when he sucks on your skin — teeth and tongue marking you, goosebumps pricking your arms and legs. you know there’ll be a bruise tomorrow, but you don’t care; he can leave as many marks as he likes.

you almost tell him as much, mouth opening, words stumbling over one another. “ichigo, i—”

several loud knocks on your door — accompanied by the terribly obnoxious ringing from your doorbell — has you scrambling off of his lap, face flushed and warm. you practically sprint towards the door, although you pause to catch your breath and fix your clothes a bit. ichigo lets out a frustrated groan, arousal pummeling into him, making it hard to think straight. he hadn’t planned on moving from his spot on the couch, but when he hears multiple voices coming from the front door, cowardice wins out and he hides in your bathroom. it takes five minutes for his cock to settle down, but when he goes to join you in the living room again, several of your friends are eating and lounging around on the floor and couch.

ever the gracious host, you’re pouring drinks for everyone, only pausing when you catch ichigo watching you. already your voice is an octave too high, your panties are clinging to your pussy, damp from your slick arousal. you do your best to not make large movements, preferring to keep your thighs as close together as possible.

annoyance pricks along the back of his neck as keigo clinks shot glasses with mizuiro; he didn’t think that telling them about his plans with you would lead to everyone else showing up too. now there are plans of ordering pizza and wings, of playing drinking games. and naturally tatsuki volunteers ichigo to go pick the food up. he shoots you an apologetic look, one that you wave away noncommittally. you know it’s not really his fault, his friends are just like that. still, you make sure to keep your hair down to obscure the various marks on your skin. you frown a bit when ichigo leaves but fix your features when orihime bounces over to you.

with a tilt of her head, eyes wide and bright, clear and strangely critical, she asks, “what’s wrong?” you know she means well, but you’d rather not discuss the fact that you were seconds away from pulling ichigo’s cock out and riding him until your pussy gave out when they all decided to come over.

“hm?” you try to clear your mind and adopt a friendly smile, “nothing’s wrong, just a little tired.” it’s true, though; you really are tired. all that studying, all that obsessing, it’s bound to make a girl exhausted. you can tell that she wants to press the issue, but in typical orihime fashion, she smiles and leaves it at that. the noisiness only serves to sober you up, but you doubt you’ll be able to sate the desire that steadily keeps building inside of you.

THURSDAY — 1:43 p.m.

tatsuki drags you and orihime to the gym, claiming that running is good for the soul — or something to that effect. you vaguely remember promising her last night, after downing one too many shots of whiskey, that you’d gladly accompany her to work out. your head throbs, your hangover a reoccurring nightmare, one that seems to follow you around all day. you try weaseling out, try to flake, but tatsuki is determined and stubborn as hell. you both admire and despise her for it right now.

you take it easy and stretch with the girls, before heading towards the treadmills. what some might consider benevolence on the universe’s part, ichigo considers cruelty; case in point, the fact that you’re here in the gym, when he knows for a fact that you’re not the exercising type — you’ve blurted this out more times than he can count, which is why he remembers. he drops from the pull up bar and grabs his towel to wipe his face, chest constricting, breathing ragged at the sight of you.

in the back of his mind, he understands that your attire is practical, he’s also quickly aroused by it; your leggings cling to your legs, highlighting your curves, stretching tight around your ass. your tank top flowing, your breasts almost spilling out of your sports bra, it was too much for him to handle at once. incidentally, you feel that ichigo working out shirtless should be illegal; your throat dries as your eyes travel along his broad chest, a ravenous hunger taking hold of your senses, that bothersome ache returning as you press your thighs together. you didn’t realize you’d stopped walking to watch him, muscles firm and thick, sweat clinging to his skin.

tatsuki calls your name repeatedly, and you have to remind yourself that you’re here to exercise and not gawk. it’s then that it dawns on you, your brain will never function properly around him — now that you’ve felt him, you lack focus. his sweatpants sit low on his hips, causing you to actually lose your damn balance; it’s partially comical, but mostly pathetic when you trip over your feet and helplessly fall onto the floor. your hands ball into fists, fingers curled inward, nails leaving tiny indents into your palms. you barely feel it, though, you’re too busy trying to regulate your breathing.

“y/n are you okay?” orihime rushes to help you stand back up; your face burns and you know that if you don’t put some distance between you and ichigo quickly, you’ll end up embarrassing yourself even more.

“yep, just peachy!” the lie is flimsy and you know that she doesn’t buy it, but you’re sticking with it. the truth is just too pitiful. ichigo frowns, fingers twitching as he grips the bar harder. you’re normally not that clumsy, and he’s half tempted to go and see if you’re okay. but the girls crowd you and he knows he’ll only make things worse if he interferes. you finally find a treadmill and even though you should probably stay off of it, you decide to use it anyway. you set a decent speed and fix the incline, opting to jog until your legs give out. if you suffer one more transgression, you’ll never be able to face ichigo again. already you feel that familiar burning sensation in your thighs, but you don’t stop; you’re not sure how long you keep at it, but ichigo is long gone when your body has finally had enough.

you drink some water and try to catch your breath. your mind is buzzing; you wish it was ichigo who helped you up instead. it’s a strange thing to be disappointed about, but you can’t stop imagining his strong arms wrapped around your soft waist. a lightheaded feeling takes over, you’re not sure how much more you can take; you’re barely surviving as is with minimal interactions with him.

he heads straight for the locker room as soon as he’s done with his last rep; no amount of cold water from the shower can snap him out of the daze you put him in. everything about you is dizzying, and just remembering how your lips and hands were on him, how soft your ass was, how he was so close to sinking his cock into your pussy the night before, makes his cock hard all over again. he has enough sense to ignore it, but he saw you jogging and nearly fell off the pull up bar. you’re dangerous, that much is certain; he’s never been this captivated by a person, so it’s almost as if he’s navigating through new territory.

“fucking ridiculous,” he says bitterly and turns off the shower so he can get dressed. he knows what he needs to do, he just needs everyone in his life to stop interfering so he can properly talk with you alone.

FRIDAY — 6:15 p.m.

for whatever reason, his friends conspire together and decide to do dinner at orihime’s house. rukia and tatsuki both shoo orihime out of the kitchen, not wanting to deal with whatever strange concoction her impulses come up with. it’s meant to be a casual affair, which he reminds you again when he stops by your apartment to pick you up. ichigo raids your fridge for something to munch on while he waits, and after fifteen minutes, he makes his way down the narrow hallway to your room. the door is open, so he assumes you must be all done, walking in without announcing himself properly.

there are several outfits strewn about on your bed; after the fourth one, you huff and stomp around your room, the carpet soft underneath your feet as you try to reason with yourself. it’s really because you’re nervous that ichigo asked you to go with him — as his date. or, at least, you’re sure that’s what he meant by inviting you to the dinner. you told ichigo you wouldn’t take long, but that was clearly a lie — not an intentional one, but a lie nonetheless.

“are you still not done?” he pauses, eyes landing on your half naked body; he gets hard instantly at the sight of your soft stomach and thick thighs. you’re too focused on your current crisis that you barely register that he’s in your room as you head back into the closet to look for another dress. if he had better morals and sense, he’d leave you to get dressed at your own pace; but, unfortunately for him, his body is the worst kind of traitor. this has been the longest week of his entire life, but he’s thankful that he has you to himself again.

you put on a new dress and flip your hair over your shoulder. “help me, please.” because your arms are still sore from working out and you figure there’s no harm in asking for his assistance. his heart lodges itself in the base of his throat, hands shaking a bit — nerves or excitement, he’s not sure — but he manages to tug the small zipper up without much issue. his hands linger on your hips, cock stiff as it angrily presses against the front of his pants.

suddenly, you’re very, very aware of how close he’s standing.

he knows that if he doesn’t let go of you, he’ll feel inclined to skip the dinner altogether. but he doesn’t want to deal with the repercussions of flaking, so he decides against it. he does, however, brush his lips along the side of your neck, leaving behind a trail of slow kisses. you’re teetering over the edge, falling further under his spell as his hands roam along your body, roughly kneading your breasts over the fabric of your dress.

you test the proverbial waters and rub your ass against his bulge, which prompts him to bite your neck in warning. you let out a small yelp and softly moan his name; you end up losing more of your composure when he turns you around and kisses you. his appetite is insatiable, his kisses feverish and demanding, a frenzied whirlwind that has you unbuckling his pants and tugging his zipper down to pull out his cock.

his imagination will never compare — your hands are still soft as ever, even as they grip him eagerly, twisting while pumping up and down his length. he hisses when you rub your thumb against the tip and kisses you ardently, tongue brazen as it swirls around yours before sucking on it. you rub your thighs together, breathing unevenly, his kisses scalding and potent. you pry yourself away from him and sink to your knees, tongue running flat against his length, circling around his thick head of his cock and licking the precum that seeps out of his slit.

ichigo’s moans echo in your room, bouncing off the walls, prompting you to open your mouth so you can take in as much of him as you can. he presses a fist to his mouth when you start bobbing your head, cheeks hollowed, mouth hot and tight; you caress his balls with your free hand, enjoying the way his cheeks are flushed and the way he licks his lips while looking down at you. he doesn’t think when he grabs your head and starts fucking your mouth and doesn’t think when you hold onto his thighs and relax your jaw to accommodate for his girth.

 you can’t lie, you’ve been dreaming about this for longer than you care to admit — it’s almost embarrassing how badly you’ve wanted to have his cock in your mouth, but you never imagined that ichigo would be like this; rough, clumsy, but every bit as tantalizing as ever. you let him have his way, using your mouth and throat as he thrusts his cock deeper. you gag but maintain eye contact, tears streaming down your cheeks at the ferocity of his thrusts.

you know something must be wrong with you because your panties are soaked, the ache building from deep inside, bubbling and pushing you closer to the edge. you like this side of him, the one that’s a little unhinged and feral, a man possessed with a certain goal on his mind. he knows he should be a bit gentler, but the way you’re looking at him, like you’re more than pleased with how he’s handling you, convinces him otherwise.

“fuck,” he pants, breath coming out in shallow puffs. his phone rings, startling both of you; he wants to ignore it but has a feeling that it’s one of his friends asking for his whereabouts. he pulls out of your mouth, drool spilling down your chin. he has so many things that he wants to say to you, but none of them come to mind. you’re not ready for any of this to end, so you motion for him to pick up the phone and stroke his cock again.

he hesitates only for a moment, but you have a mischievous look on your face, and he knows better than to test your patience right now. “w-what is it?” he asks when he answers the phone, voice low and husky, a shiver sliding down your spine when you suck on the head of his cock. he clamps his mouth shut in the hopes of keeping as quiet as possible, but mizuiro sounds so concerned and keeps asking why he’s giving him one- or two-word responses. however, ichigo’s desire to fuck you is greater than his guilt; besides, he realizes, belatedly, that you want someone to catch him like this.

it's hot, he won’t lie. and he’d indulge you more, but with the way you’re stroking and sucking his cock, he doubts he’ll be able to tolerate a full conversation with mizuiro — especially as he drones on about how imperative it is for ichigo to keep his promises.

blah, blah, blah.

he cuts the conversation short, tossing the phone onto the floor behind him. he grabs onto your arm, hauls you to your feet, and his mouth is on yours again. orihime’s dinner party is the last thing on both of your minds, not when he leaves you breathless, kissing you until your lips are swollen, lipstick smeared. his hands are on the move again as he tugs your dress off of you, mouth placing messy kisses down your chest, teeth tugging on your hardened nipples before sucking on them. it’s impossible to keep steady when each ichigo’s mouth is ruining your life in the best way possible.

your arousal clings to the inner parts of your thighs, you’re practically begging him to fuck you, words barely coherent as you fuss at him, but he understands you just fine. after pulling the rest of his clothes off, he picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he holds you against the wall. if he were a better man, he’d have the courtesy to fuck you on your bed; but he isn’t thinking properly, and he’s tired of playing around. he snakes a hand lower, fingers rubbing your pussy, dragging needy whimpers out of you.

“ichigo, damn it,” your frustration is cute and he can’t help but continue to tease you. he slides his fingers into your tight, needy hole, fingers sinking deeply without much resistance.

“you’re so wet, i don’t think i need to prep you at all.” he’s impressed, actually and likes how your pussy keeps sucking his fingers back in every time he pulls them back. you buck your hips against his hand, and if it wasn’t for his arm holding you securely, you’d fall over with ease.

you can barely look at him, cheeks permanently flushed as you moan loudly for him. “that’s it,” he coaches, thumb circling around your clit, fingers scissoring roughly, “you want me to fuck you that badly?”

your eyes grow wide but you nod and breathe out a, “yes. i’ve been waiting for so damn long.” the confession surprises him, as he was under the impression that he was the only one who suffered the entire time. and, because his cock is running the show, he plucks his fingers out of you, lines his tip with your entrance and slams his cock inside. you claw at the back of his neck and all along his chest, legs trembling as his hips knock against yours roughly. nothing could prepare him for the way your plush, gummy walls suffocate him — wet and warm, a snug fit that he’ll never tire of.

you move your hips in tandem with his, matching the timing of his thrusts, as you press sloppy kisses along his jaw, nails raking down his broad back. ichigo’s hips rock forward, cock burrowing deeper with each stroke. both of you are at your limits, he knows he won’t last much longer, but he’ll try his best anyway. his pace quickens, your pussy making lewd, squelching noises, your wetness coating his cock prettily. your breasts bounce as he fucks you harder, your voice growing hoarse from how loud you are, enticing him to pound into you wildly.

he licks the base of your throat, groaning against your skin when you roll your hips, cunt full as his cock is buried to the hilt; his tip hits a spot that makes you hold onto him tighter, breathing shallow as you call out his name. he commits the moment to memory — something to look back on late at night — thoroughly enjoying how you’re writhing underneath him. he angles his hips, keeps them closer to yours, bucking against you recklessly — his cock bringing about an incurable madness that takes over your entire being.

maybe it’s because you’ve been denying yourself for so long — or maybe it’s because you’ve been teasing one another all week — but you feel as if a bit of weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. his balls are heavy, each slap against your ass makes you clench around him more. he rubs your clit, firm small circles that send tiny jolts throughout your body. your back arches as your walls spasm, fluttering around his cock, hips stuttering under his powerful thrusts. the orgasm leaves you dazed, eyes rolling back, your cunt puffy but greedy as it milks him shamelessly.

he never pegged you for a squirter, yet you keep defying his expectations. you want to bury your head underground for eternity, hating the way your orgasm has you incapacitated, slumping over him while your wetness spills onto your carpet.

ichigo keeps fucking you until his hips jerk, rhythm disrupted, cum thick and hot as it spills inside of you. he humps you lazily and you pepper his face with wet kisses, his heart leaping out of his chest as your fingers sift through his hair. both of you are sweaty and out of breath, but when you look up at him, something close to adoration flits across his face. you’re not sure if that’s a post-orgasm sort of thing, but you’ll take it for what it is.

you brush your lips against his, gently kissing him, and ask if he still wants to go to dinner. ichigo shoots you an incredulous look and you laugh in response. “okay, okay,” you pat his chest gently, “boyfriends shouldn’t look at their girlfriends like that.” you say it casually enough that it feels like a joke, but you’re too damn nervous to look at him to see his reaction.

his ears grow hot and he presses his lips together for a moment before mumbling a, “sorry, won’t happen again.” you pinch his cheek and playfully lick at his lips. a warmth travels to your chest, nestles into the crevices that line the inside of your heart, and makes you want to kiss him all over again. he takes that as a sign of forgiveness — although he isn’t actually sure if you meant it or not — and carries you over to your bed. while he initially set out to get you to confess first, somewhere along the way, his mission fell apart. still, he can’t say he’s unhappy about the outcome. and, sure, his friends might give him an earful for missing out on dinner, but he’s much more content and comfortable being with you right now to care.

#fic request #fiNALLY SORA FINALLY #bleach imagine #bleach fluff #bleach smut #bleach x reader #bleach x y/n #kurosaki ichigo #kurosaki ichigo x reader #kurosaki ichigo x y/n #ichigo smut #ichigo fluff #ichigo x reader #ichigo x y/n #real clown girl behavior on y/n’s part tbh #ichigo is foolish u know the vibes!! #ichigo kurosaki #ichigo kurosaki smut #strawhatsoraya #bleach x black reader #ichigo x black reader

[oh-ranpo]

☾ - pairing: william james moriarty x fem!reader ☾ - word count: 3.4k+ ☾ - warning: nsfw, 18+, minors dni! unprotected sex, some mild cursing, angst, some spoilers if you haven’t seen the entire anime! ☾ - summary: when you overhear william’s ultimate plans for himself, you can’t even bear the thought.

You knew that they weren’t meant for you, but when you heard the words of his confession, it felt like your entire world had fallen out from under you. There had always been that feeling - that gnawing sensation deep inside your chest - that hinted that there could be something more to all of this. However, he had always remained so calm about everything, so how could you have known that this was how he saw everything playing out?

You certainly hadn’t expected him to be so okay with dying.

You had known William since the days at the orphanage, and while you had lost contact for a few years, when you had reunited, it was as if no time at all had passed. He was your best friend then, and he was your best friend now. The only difference now was, he held your heart in the palm of his hand and you knew that there was no hope in ever getting it back. So, to hear his thoughts on sacrificing himself for ‘the greater good’ to repent for his sins, you had to immediately flee the scene so as to not vomit all over the, now dead, nobleman’s hallway rug. 

He had to be bluffing. Why he would lie to Fred after all this time, you didn’t know, but that’s the only explanation you could come up with. He wouldn’t die in such a way and give up on his plans. He didn’t want to die. There was no way he would be okay with such a thing when your world had just started to finally take a turn for the better. 

However, on your walk back to the Moriarty mansion, you thought about the words you had heard. You thought about the sentiment behind them, and how they all sounded vaguely familiar. While he had never outright shared such an idea with you before, as you processed everything, you began to feel more and more ill. His plan, his motives, his entire life’s vision- it all came down to one moment. And that’s when you realized…

He really had been planning this the entire time.

You received an odd look from Sebastian when you stepped through the entryway of the large estate, and without so much as a glance in his direction, you made your way up the stairs towards William’s office. Louis called out to you when he passed you on the landing, immediately noticing your pale demeanor and bothered expression but you just couldn’t get yourself to acknowledge him as you were too wrapped up in your thoughts. Did he know? Did he have any idea what his brother had been planning?

William’s office was empty when you entered it, and you swiftly made your way towards his desk. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but you needed something, anything, that might help dispel the horrible feeling that had now seemed to permanently settle in your stomach. You needed anything that might give evidence to William wanting to live in this changed world he was working towards instead of leaving it all behind; leaving you behind. 

The top of the desk was devoid of any papers or folders, and as you pulled out each individual drawer, you came up empty each time. You searched through everything, your movements becoming more and more frantic as you searched. Bile rose in your throat as you turned his words over in your head, but you could still only come to the same conclusion. 

You had been searching so long, and your mind was so preoccupied with devastating thoughts, you didn’t realize that it was time for William to be home. Even though he had gone out on a mission, he had promised to return by a certain time, and the clock on the wall chimed the hour as his office door opened and closed behind him. You didn’t even notice he had entered the room until you felt a pair of hands fall to your waist as you were bent down in front of one of the bookcases, placing a book back on the shelf that you had just been rifling through.

A surprised gasp fell from your lips as he slowly spun you around, and when your eyes met familiar crimson irises, you immediately felt like you could cry. There was a small smile on his face, indicating that he had not yet caught on to your shenanigans, though he did look a little curious at the position he had found you in.

“My love, what are you doing in here?” He asked casually, one of his hands lifting to brush back a lock of your hair that had fallen into your face. A lump had built in your throat, and you had to forcibly swallow it down before you could provide him with a response.

“I was looking for a book that I had wanted to read,” you lied, and you could tell that he knew as much. You had your own separate library in the house, and you both knew that you would never come into his office looking for something for literary entertainment. Not when most of his books were related to mathematics or other scholarly topics that you found positively boring.

“Ah, well might I help you find what you were looking for?” He asked slyly, his hand falling back to your waist as he slowly started to lead you back across the room. He was moving you backwards, but you knew that you were headed towards his desk, this assumption becoming confirmed when the backs of your knees bumped against the edge of it. 

“No need, I’ve lost interest already,” you responded, doing your best to give him a cheeky smile as one of your arms draped across his shoulder. You hoped that your voice didn’t shake around the words, because if there was even the slightest quiver, William would immediately notice it. 

“Mmm, please do not abandon your pursuits on my account. I would be happy to go find Louis and-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence before you were pressing into him, your lips finding his in a borderline desperate kiss. A surprise hum reverberated against your skin as William was quick to reciprocate, even if he had been momentarily caught off guard. 

You couldn’t explain it, but as you kissed him, you could feel a sense of urgency build inside of you that you had never felt before. It wasn’t the typical passionate urgency, but something deeper. You could feel it coursing through your veins and filling every empty space inside of you. The idea that someday - and possibly someday soon - you wouldn’t be able to find solace in his embrace was unbearable. The weight of it was crushing and you felt like the only way you could breathe was by clinging to him as tightly as you could. 

You weren’t sure whose hands moved first, yours or his, but you were soon tugging at the buttons on his dress shirt, and he was moving to lift your skirt up above your knees. Once the hem of your dress was pushed up above your waist, he lifted you with ease so that you were now sitting on the top of his desk instead of resting against it, and he was able to step between your thighs.

Neither one of you broke the kiss until you were pushing his shirt off of his shoulders and he detached his lips from yours only so that he could move them to your throat. His teeth grazed your skin as he nipped at your collarbone, and a soft moan rose in your throat as you tossed the white shirt to the floor and then reached to pull him into you by the waist of his pants. 

“Someone is awfully needy this evening,” William teased, but you pretended to ignore him as your fingers popped open the button of his slacks. You weren’t ready to address the situation that had brought you to his office in the first place just yet, and instead all you yearned for was more. More time, more contact, more of him. 

As you worked on shimmying his pants down past his hips, William’s fingers danced across your thighs before coming to rest right next to the fabric of your panties. His lips moved to your shoulder as his nose nudged the strap of your dress to the side so that he could nibble at the skin there, leaving the faintest of red marks that always brought a smile to his face when he observed them later. 

“Is this what you want?” He asked teasingly as the tip of his index finger brushed along your clothed core. Your entire body shook at the sensation, and for a moment, your hands stopped working to remove his pants as your brain went numb with nothing but the momentary pleasure.

“Will, please,” you groaned, and you could feel him smile against your skin.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Without another warning, he swiftly pushed the fabric to the side before sliding a finger along your folds, causing your eyes to flutter shut and your fingers to press into the skin of his hips as you searched for something to ground you. He was moving slowly, as if to tease you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from rolling forward as they searched for more friction. 

“William,” you huffed in frustration as he refused to give you anything more than a feather light touch, despite how you tried to move against him. His face was still pressed against your shoulder, and you could feel his breath fanning across your skin as he chuckled.

“Easy, my love. In due time.”

But how much time? You wanted to blurt out, but you didn’t. Now that you had him in your arms, you didn’t want to think about what came next, you just wanted to focus on him and the love that the two of you shared. Plus, it was hard to think as he gently pushed one finger inside of you, curling it in just the right way to have another moan tumbling past your lips. 

William lifted his head at the sound, his ruby eyes regarding you with a fiery adoration that always made your toes curl. He was so good at masking his feelings on the outside, but when it came to you, he was an open book. He had once told you that you were one of the only people he ever wanted to be upfront with, and you had taken that to heart.

So, why hadn’t he told you about his suicide mission?

To silence the dark thought that popped to the front of your mind, you leaned forward to kiss him again, and your hands set back to work on shedding away the rest of his clothes. He easily stepped out of his pants as you pushed them down, and he rid you of your underwear completely just as you pushed away his as well. A second finger of his joined the first one, working to stretch you out as his other hand scooted you to the very edge of his desk.

“Are you ready for me?” He asked calmly as your hand reached for his erection, your tongue darting out to lick your lips at the sight of his glistening tip. You could barely speak as he curled his fingers inside of you again, but you did manage to nod just as your hand wrapped around his shaft, causing a low moan to fill the air between you. William’s hips bucked under your touch, and you smiled to yourself at how quickly he responded. You two were the same in that regard.

You sighed in disappointment as William slowly removed his fingers from inside of you, but that empty feeling was short-lived as you assisted in guiding him towards your entrance and he slowly pushed himself inside. The stretch of him was familiar, and it was his turn to groan as his own eyes slowly shut as your warmth engulfed him completely. His jaw went slack as one of your hands brushed through his hair, pulling him in so that his forehead was now resting against your own.

“You feel so good,” he murmured as your fingers threaded through the hair at the base of his neck. “You were made for me.” 

He didn’t phrase it as a question, and you knew that he didn’t mean it in a spur-of-the-moment kind of way. He meant it as a statement that was as true as the sky was blue. From your complete understanding of his goals, your unwavering support, and the way you simply fit him, it was as if the Heaven’s had crafted you for one another specifically. You felt tears spring to your eyes as you ruminated on just how true his words were, and how deeply you reciprocated the sentiment. 

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you could do nothing but nod in response. You knew that you couldn’t contain the emotion in your voice if you tried to speak, and the last thing you wanted was for him to stop what he was doing. 

Slowly, he pulled himself back before snapping his hips back into yours, the movement shaking the desk that you were seated on. Your eyes shut as you reveled in the feeling, the pace he had started to set bringing about a familiar burn in your stomach that you couldn’t get enough of. One of your hands was still resting against the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, while the other hand moved back to his hip, the tips of your fingers digging into his flesh as his thrusts started to come faster.

The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air of the quiet office, and William moved one of his hands back between your legs, easily finding your clit as he began rubbing quick circles against it. You jumped at the overwhelming sensation, and he swallowed your moan as he captured your lips with his, an action that wasn’t entirely common for him. Typically, he liked to hear the noises you made and would rarely interrupt them. However, there was something in this particular kiss that had your skin burning in a different way. 

He was thinking about it too.

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter as you did your best to meet his motions with your own hips, your high building faster and faster as you strived to reach that edge before you completely fell apart. William’s teeth gently grazed against your bottom lip, nibbling on it slightly as he held back his own moans and his hips started moving more erratically. You knew that he was close to his own climax, and just as his ministrations against your clit sent you over the edge, he was quick to follow. 

The warmth of him filled you as you finally broke apart so that you could catch your breath. You both knew the mess that you had made of the top of his desk, but William didn’t seem to mind as a smile spread across his lips before his head fell to rest against your shoulder. 

“I love you.”

The three words felt different now as they fell from his lips. Hearing them had always sent your heart racing, but now your heart ached. Despite the moment you had just shared, the reality of your evening finally hit you and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. A lump formed in your throat, and your silence seemed to alert him that something was wrong as he lifted his head to meet your gaze, just in time to watch the first tear slide down your cheek.

You had hoped that maybe shutting your eyes would hold them at bay, but it was clear that the effort was useless. A warm hand brushed against your cheek as William wiped the tear away, and when you worked up the courage to open your eyes, you were met with the sight of him regarding you sadly. 

“Darling, why are you crying?” 

He was asking the question, but it felt like he already knew the answer. His palm rested against your jaw as he waited for your response, his eyes trailing over every inch of your face as if looking for any slight changes to your expression.

“I heard you talking to Fred earlier,” you admitted, opting for the truth instead of a half-baked lie. William’s eyes widened slightly, though the surprise wasn’t as intense as you thought it might be. Instead, his frown only deepened and you could see conflict start to meld into his expression. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

With your compromising position, William slowly pulled out and moved to re-dress himself before he replied. You remained exactly where you were, unable to move a muscle despite the vulnerable position, while it was your turn to wait for a response. As you watched him, it was then that you noticed a few flecks of blood spread across his collarbone and shoulders, and you thought about the mission that he had set out on earlier that night and the nobleman whose rug you had almost thrown up on. 

“The things I’ve done, I cannot be forgiven for. But they are things that I cannot take back. Everything now is for the greater good of tomorrow. The world will be better once the job is done.”

It sounded so rehearsed you couldn’t help but scoff. It sounded like a speech he would give everyone else, but it didn’t sound genuine to your ears. This wasn’t the way that William spoke to you. This was a facade. For whatever reason, even after everything you had been through, he was trying to fool you. 

“And what about me? Do you think I’ll be better once you’re gone?” Your voice cracked halfway through the question, and the shift in William’s face was slight but still noticeable. He looked remorseful, but he still hadn’t said the words that you needed to hear.

“Everything will be better when class structure is a thing of the past, my love.”

You shook your head.

“I don’t give a fuck about what my standing in society is if you’re not here with me.”

More tears streamed down your cheeks as you finally moved so that you could reach for him again. Your hands found his bare shoulders and you wanted to shake him. You wanted to make him understand just how horrible you found this plan to be. You’d call it all off right now if it meant that he would live. Even run away from London and never look back if he would escape with you.

William’s thumb brushed against your cheek as a sad smile turned up the corners of his lips.

“You really are the best thing about all of this, you know? I’ve never had to hide myself or pretend to be something I’m not. Orphan, nobleman, it never mattered to you. I’ll never be able to repay you for that,” he murmured, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears now. One of your hands moved from his shoulder to cup his cheek, gently pulling him closer until your lips were just barely pressed against his own.

“Repay me by staying alive. I need you, William.” And you did. More than you could ever say. As he said that you were made for him, he was the other half of you. You would never be the same if he was gone. 

Another heavy silence fell as he kissed you lightly, his lips just barely brushing against yours before he emitted a slow, shuddering breath and his free hand moved to hold the side of your neck.

“If I live for anyone, it would be you and only you,” he whispered, and you felt a flicker of hope bloom in your chest. 

“Good,” you breathed as you pulled back just enough so that you could look him in the eyes once more. You wanted him to see how serious you were with the next words you spoke. “Because if you must go down, I’m going down with you. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

Years of complete understanding and connection drove home your statement, and you could see the realization and acceptance settle into William’s features. He nodded before kissing you once more and then took a step back from the desk so that he could help you to your feet.

“We can discuss this more after a bath,” he suggested, and for the first time in hours, a genuine smile started to form on your lips. 

“Yes. Yes, we can.”

#william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty fic #william james moriarty story #william james moriarty smut #william james moriarty imagine #moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot imagine #moriarty the patriot story #moriarty the patriot smut #moriarty the patriot fic #wjm #wjm imagine #wjm x reader #wjm story #wjm fic #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty imagine #yuukoku no moriarty fic #yuukoku no moriarty story

[firein-thesky]

Chapter Three: Anew

Masterlist | <- Chapter Two: Anything, Everything | Satoru's Interlude: Bigger God -> | Read on Ao3

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Summary: And the form leans down, closer, as their voice drops to a murmur, all honey and thorns, the promise of something far greater than you. A storm to come. The future that you will bear upon the slant of your shoulders. And when they speak, you know they’ve cursed you;

“I will teach you how to make a God.” 

(Arranged marriage, angst, hurt/comfort, dark content)

Warnings (specifically for this chapter): Parental abuse (emotional and physical), possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, toxic dynamics, parental death, manipulation, smut; specifically, loss of virginity, first times, pushy Gojo? (Gojo is not as slow or empathetic as he perhaps should be/pushes the reader a little, but there is consent), oral (f receiving), mentions of shame/guilt in regards to pleasure and sex. Please be wary of overarching story warnings, too. Let me know if you think I should add any other warnings! **Please mind warnings overall and for each chapter**

Word Count: 21k......i am mentally unwell.

A/N: a day late but my apology is a huge fucking chapter. i wrote all this before i saw the leaks. i have many thoughts. but first, a huuuuge thank you to @lorelune for beta-reading this beast of a chapter and helping me through it. i feel like i struggled awhile and their feedback helped so much, as always. i also really appreciate your feedback! and would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! thank you all for reading and thank you for waiting for this chapter!! enjoy!

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

“Gods require isolation.” 

In your vision, colors bleed and bend together in a waterfall of light. You can hardly make out the shape in front of you, can hardly make out the voice. It almost aches, somewhere in your teeth, in the core of you, to try and focus on them.

“Gods cannot have equals, otherwise they wouldn’t be Gods. Do you understand?” 

“But there are so many–” you have a hard time getting out the words, chewing around them strangely, like cotton in your mouth. Your voice is just a croak, “there are so many Gods.” 

“No,” there is a shaking, as if they’re denying you, “forget what you previously knew. Those are myths, not Gods.” 

You blink hard, as if you could clear your vision. You feel like you might be sick, stomach turning over itself, twisting and churning–

“Gods are alone.” 

“Lonely?” 

A pause.

“Yes, lonely, at the top of their world.” The voice hums, like bees in your ears, like the vibrating of cursed energy that simmers low in your hearing, that sizzles to life when used. The person almost feels like–like a curse.

“Gods are lone stars that gaze down upon the earth, they shine brighter, they guide and shower and collapse inwards to become something else entirely.” 

“Stars?” You garble.

“Gods devour everyone around them, so they are the only ones left. Do you hear me?” 

“Yes,” you say and you think tears are pricking your eyes. 

“Don’t cry yet,” coos the voice, lullaby soft, the way a mother sounds, the way you wish a father would sound. “Do you understand, then?”

“Yes,” you hiccup, “Gods are lonely. Gods are very, very lonely.” 

***

You know you will devour Suguru as he walks to you in the garden for a final time. 

The last time you see him before his betrayal, he is in a strangely amiable mood, one that you aren’t often on the receiving end of.

And just as strangely, you allow yourself to indulge him. You aren’t as snappy or harsh, you aren’t posturing and snarling. 

You’re just a friend for him, in his last few hours as a sorcerer and not a curse user. 

“I think I’ll miss visiting you like this when you get married to Satoru.” He says. 

“Satoru wants a garden when we move out. He’s fond of it now, too.” You tell him, “you can visit me in that garden.” 

You know he never will.

(Well—once, he will. But he will not be himself anymore, not really, not ever again. Suguru has always been the type to grow out of his own skin, always chased divinity down until he was stumbling and panting for it, like a starved dog on a futile hunt. 

And when he finally gets it between his teeth, he will have had to die for it, and it will not be him at all, but someone else. 

He will just be the conduit. The possessed. The hollowed out. He’ll gorge himself on it only to still be left starving.

Because maybe that’s all divinity is; the empty stomach, the eternal hunger for something more than yourself. The emptiness of being more than just yourself.) 

“Hm, I won’t have to deal with your father.” Suguru says and he sinks a little heavier into some of the taller, heather soft grass by the pond.

“Tell me about it. I have wanted to escape him for my whole life.” You say.

“Will you?” He asks.

Eventually, you nod. 

Then you admit, “I’ll kill him one day.”

Suguru’s brows dart upwards and he turns his face towards you, towards the sun. He has to squint when he looks at you, he has to shield his eyes a little. The sun hallows you, swallowing you up in its honey bronzed light. 

“You will?” He asks and there’s a strange note in his voice. 

“After he kills my mother.” You don’t know exactly why you tell him this, only that it bubbles out of you, only that you know you are supposed to. 

“How long have you known?” Suguru’s voice is almost gentle for you. 

“Years now. I knew he would kill my mother the moment I received Foresight. And a year or so later, I looked into his future, too.” You lean back on your elbows, tip your face up to the light. 

Suguru swallows. “Is he–I’ve always known he was controlling but–to kill your mother–” 

“He knows.” 

“Knows what?” Suguru asks. 

“That I’ll kill him. I told him after he hit me the first time.” 

You say it so plainly that all Suguru can do is stare for a moment. 

But then he sits up and there is something dark in his eyes, unfathomable, “does Satoru know? And he just let’s this–for all of his fucking power and–” 

A crackling sort of anger spits to life inside him. You’re so surprised that for a moment, all you can do is stare at him now. 

“Suguru,” you say softly and you stop him from standing by catching his wrist in your slight hand, you stop him from going to do who knows what, “Satoru doesn’t know.” 

“Why doesn’t he know?” Suguru hisses, “does Ieri? Anyone?” 

You shake your head. 

“Satoru would kill him if he knew. There is a version where he kills him days before our wedding.” You say and your own voice has taken on a hushed quality, stilling him. 

“A version?” Suguru asks.

You nod. 

“But I want to do it myself.” You admit and the confession is so raw and unkept that it startles you with its truth. “I have wanted to do it myself for a long time, I think.”

Suguru looks at you strangely, changed. 

But when he says, “I always knew there was something horrible in you.” There isn’t any malice in it, rather he sounds deeply fond, a little heartbroken. You sidle up to his side, scoot in close so you can feel the warmth of him. 

He drops an arm around you. He tucks you into his side. 

“Don’t tell Satoru,” you nuzzle down into him, surprisingly compliant. Whenever Suguru has tried to touch you before, you have met him with teeth and nails and all sorts of fight. But now, you melt easily. “Don’t do a thing.” 

You feel his fingers dig into you. 

“How am I supposed to stand idly by and allow you to be–” 

You turn your head against his shoulder, look up at him through your lashes, “please? I don’t ask much of you, do I?” 

Suguru shakes his head. “I don’t like this. Why does it have to be this version? Isn’t there another? Where you’re safe? Where you aren’t–” 

“I don’t think I would be so horrible if there was a different version.” You admit softly to him.  

Suguru goes quiet. 

Then, “I wouldn’t have you any other way, you know.” 

The admittance is surprisingly tender. Your eyes sting with it. 

He catches your chin between large fingers, tilts you up so you can’t hide your shining eyes from him. “Wretched as you are–I think you’re perfect. I only wish–” 

“Suguru,” you almost don’t want him to say this part. You can feel it pulling at you, tugging and tearing at your tender heart, plucking at your insides. 

“There was a version where you were safe. And you didn’t have to be horrible. And I didn’t have to be horrible, either.” 

You’re startled by the tears that he catches, one with his thumb. “What’s this? Tears for me? But you hate me so terribly.” 

You shake your head a little into his hands, “I don’t–” 

“It’s alright,” he hushes, and you think he sees you in a different light now, you think something has shifted massively between you. And so close to the end. “Just tell me if there’s a version where we’re safe and–” 

You swallow hard around the prickly lump in your throat, the sob trapped there. You feel more tears escape from the corner of your eyes, especially as they crinkle up into your sad smile. 

Your vision blurs with him, with the man who wanted to be a god. 

The lie comes easily, almost wistfully, to your trembling lips;

“Yes–somewhere out there is a version where we are safe. My father doesn’t hurt me. And Satoru is more than just a God. Yu Haibara lives. A Zenin boy doesn’t lose his father. Two little girls are not locked in a cage. And you don’t have to be so horrible, either.” 

***

Ieri comes to you in the middle of the night. 

You have not slept, because you know, and you’ve been waiting for her. 

You padded out into the garden, barefoot, awhile ago. The night air has a nip to it. Moonless night. Starless night. Endlessly dark in the heavens tonight. The world seems to be hushed with the violence that’s happened, with the betrayal that has taken place. You wonder if every betrayal made the world go this silent; Set and Osiris, Caesar and Brutus, Jesus and Judas. 

Ieri knows where to find you, knows you’ll know, knows you too well, and she joins you now in your garden. 

She’s been crying. Eyes glassy and lined with red, makeup smeared halfway down her face. 

You fold her into your arms and you can feel her shudder as she holds back another sob.

“You knew,” she gets out, “you knew the whole time.” 

“Yes.” You whisper, holding her tighter to keep her from freeing herself, as if you could wrestle her anger or heartbreak still. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why wouldn’t you–”

“Was I supposed to condemn him?” 

“Couldn’t you have saved him? You knew–you know all of it.” Ieri is shaking, perhaps terrified, perhaps furious, “will you do this to all of us? What good is your technique if you don’t intervene?” 

“Not everything should be changed.” 

She grabs you by the shoulders suddenly, viciously, nails chipped with burgundy polished digging hard into your skin. She wants to leave torn little half moons. She wants to hurt you. But she’s a doctor. She’s a healer. 

Her eyes fly over your face, tears stream down her ruddy cheeks. Her gaze darkens, digs into you, tries to see what she perhaps missed in you. She tries to find her friend inside of you, tries to find your anguish or heartbreak, too. 

“What am I supposed to do with you?” She asks suddenly and it is not fond but, devastated, “how am I supposed to–” 

Her voice bites off into a strangled whine. 

“Trust me?” 

And when she says, “I don’t know how Gojo does it.” 

It isn’t heated or mean, it’s just–honest. Tired. 

And it hurts worse than you’re anticipating. The ache blossoms so fiercely that your breath catches with it, almost as if she’d struck you. It makes a lump form in your throat. Her eyes like dark moons look at you with a new form of disgust, mistrust. You want to seize her suddenly, you want to cry, you want to do what you do to Satoru where you cling and beg and whine. 

You know it won’t work on her, though.

So you swallow and say, “I loved him, too, you know.” 

And it’s the truth, more than you realized. 

“Then why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you save him?” 

Your mind catapults you into a memory of your own and you remember the ancestor of yours who looked too guilty to say he was trying to save you, but stop you. 

Perhaps it is the same, after all. 

“Ieri,” you whisper, strangled, “there was no stopping him.” 

There is no stopping me. 

“No,” she says and her eyes water, filling, “no. The Getou I know wouldn’t have–he killed his parents. He killed–” 

Her hand comes over her mouth and she turns away from you. She holds her stomach with her free hand like she’s trying to keep it all inside of her, like she’s trying to keep all her grief and anger from spilling out. 

You wonder how she will feel when you kill your father. 

Will she understand? Will she hold her stomach again like she’s going to be sick? 

Perhaps for both you and Suguru, you say, “I’m sorry.” 

Perhaps you are admitting to parts of it. “I’m sorry.” You say again and she finally turns to look at you. And then she is grabbing you and she is teetering in your arms as you whisper, “I am sorry. I’m sorry for all of it, I’m so, so–” 

A sob creaks out of her and she falls apart in your arms until Satoru walks to you on wary, unsteady feet, and does the same. 

The three of you don’t sleep and instead sit in a garden that once held four, and watch as the sun breaks over the sky like shattered, red glass reflecting hot and hazy. The day turns on.

Life continues, even if it feels like theirs have ended, even if it feels like you’ve lost something greater than you can name. 

Greater than you ever anticipated.

And you say to no one, perhaps the sky, your voice small like a child’s;

“I’m sorry–I’m sorry–” 

***

Suguru Getou is condemned to execution.

And for all his power, there is nothing that Satoru can do to stop any of this.

(To stop the future you have set into–)

When Suguru kills one hundred and twenty one people, you know why he does it. Maybe he even sees you in them, kept away out of fear of their technique, maybe he is just horrible. You think he must understand then, when you’d mentioned two, little girls. It must've all slid into place for him finally. 

You think he realized his fate in the blink of an eye, the inevitability; perhaps why you despised him and then loved him. He must realize what he is about to do to Satoru. 

Still, Satoru comes to tell you–to seek your counsel. You’ve never seen him quite so lost. So–

You know he won’t listen to you when you tell him, “you will have to kill him.” 

He looks at you hard and long, stricken like you’ve hit him or wounded him, like you’ve pulled a knife out and pushed into the tender parts of him. He looks at you like you’ve betrayed him. 

“How could you say that to me?” He hisses and you can hear it in his voice, thick with emotion, with tears.

“I don’t say it lightly,” you respond and you’re startled to find your own voice failing, the sudden tears you have for the man you apparently hated so badly are still fresh. You don’t know why you’re mourning him like this, why it hurts so bad when you knew–you planned–

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and when he sinks into your embrace, you go down with him, “I’m sorry.” you say again and again and maybe you sound like your mother. Maybe you sound like someone else. 

But you cradle his head to your beating heart, card your fingers through his hair, and let him be just a man in your arms. 

***

Everyone steps in to help Satoru with Megumi and Tsumiki. 

Nanami often is the one who stops by to drop them off to be with you in the morning or evenings, after the kids have gotten done with school. Sometimes Utahime, who is remarkably good with kids. She is also remarkably kind to you, more so than you’d ever imagined or thought. Ieri jokes that she pities you to have to marry Gojo, who is, to her, the most insufferable person alive.  

You think it’s something more, but you can’t place what yet. 

Megumi rushes past Nanami to disappear into the garden. Tsumiki lingers and greets you before loping after her brother.

“How were they?” You ask him.

Nanami pauses before saying, “they miss Gojo, I think. Megumi especially is–” 

His expression pinches for a moment, before he schools it. 

“Well, he’s acting out a little.” 

“I’ll talk to him.” You promise. “What has he done?” 

“He’s picking fights with classmates. His teacher told me and said–well, she said that it would do well for him to have a solid presence in his life and not,” Nanami is careful with what he says now, but it still comes out a little too bluntly, “rotating babysitters.” 

It stings a little, but you swallow, nod around it. You know it’s true. But as they say, it does take a village and you and Satoru are hardly adults yourself. 

You aren’t even yet, technically.

Still, you say, “I’ll see what I can do. Thank you, Nanami, I know it means a lot to Satoru, too.” 

Nanami’s usually stoic features soften barely, before he nods and says, “of course.” And then he inhales slow and asks, “how’s Gojo?” 

In truth, you’ve hardly seen him.

But you’d never let anyone know that, you’d never admit, in any way, that he is untouchable to you. So you look out into the garden to find the kid’s dark heads of shining hair under the sun, bobbing about, moving around the lush green.

The wind eases past you and finally, you say, “he’ll be okay.” 

Nanami seems to understand, so he swallows, and nods. “Tell the kids I’ll see them tomorrow.” 

“I will,” you promise and watch as he walks off, his figure in the spun gold light of the sun and seems to shine through him, almost, as if he were made of light entirely. 

It really is such a shame, you think, as tears prick your eyes, of what will happen to him. 

***

“The wedding is approaching,” your father says over dinner.

“And so is her birthday.” Your mother reminds him. 

They’re planned for the same day–the wedding has been planned for your eighteenth birthday since the vow was created. The days have unspooled before you and turned to years. You have seen how this wedding in too many little futures of others, have known and anticipated it the way hospitals often have temples and churches inside of them 

Your father pays her no mind.

“This is a huge moment for our clan,” he says, “and I have asked countlessly in the past but–” 

“I’ve already seen his future.” You say.

His eyes round with surprise and then hope. The sick sort of excitement that comes from a ravenous sort of hunger. 

“I can’t believe you–” he shakes his head, elated, “finally. What did you see? How can the clan–”

“Did you think I would tell you?” 

His face falters. 

“We want to destroy the clans. Why would I tell you anything that helps them?” 

Your father’s face goes pale. It goes slack with disbelief. And then anger sharpens his eyes, slicing to you. 

He stands from the table abruptly enough that your mother flinches so hard she nearly drops a bowl. “Don’t–” she whimpers, throwing her arm out in front of you to stop him, to keep him from grabbing you. 

It breaks your heart, to see her hand, outcast over you to protect you, trembling like a leaf in a violent wind. She is horrified, but she is still trying to protect you. 

You almost see red. You almost want to kill your father right now. 

“You cannot allow this.” Your father seethes, “did you hear her?” 

“She’s my daughter,” is your mother’s only response, half desperate, chest heaving. 

“Mom–” you beg, but it’s too late, because your father lunges for her first. When he grabs her, all of your world narrows, and her strangled, pained gasp is the only thing you hear. Your father throws her into the wall so harshly that it leaves a dent and he goes for her again, while she is a crumpled mass on the floor and–

And you reach for the knife at the table like it has always belonged in your palm

You grab your father by his hair and yank his head far enough back to expose the fluttering line of his vulnerable throat. You are certain you have looked like this to him before, eyes bugging with his fist in your hair, mouth agape. 

You put the knife to his throat and hiss, “I will do this now if you lay another hand on her.” 

Your father begins to tremble the way your mother did. The way you did as a child. 

“You won’t,” he croaks. 

He doesn’t mean it. 

“I will.” You vow. 

And you wonder how Suguru felt, with his parents or the others he killed in the name of trapped, hurt children, you wonder if it felt like this. If it will be worse or better. You want to run to him now, you think, and ask. Is it worth it? Was it worth it? Will I ever get the smell of blood out from under my nose? 

Your father goes slack, let’s you know he is done. Defeated for now, subdued enough that he will not hit her. 

Your mother watches in horror. 

He slinks away, muttering to himself, grasping at his head, his throat. You think you are driving him mad. You think you are haunting him, that you have grown into a curse and not a girl at all. 

You toss the knife away and throw your arms around your mother and you rock her the way she used to rock you as a child, trying to quiet her cries, trying to soothe what you know will never settle. 

***

Satoru hasn’t been the same since Suguru’s betrayal. 

Though you knew this would pain him, it bothers you that it is able to affect him so greatly. Still, you remain doting, loving. You let him lay with his head in your lap, on your chest. You let him squeeze you too tightly, you let him bruise you. 

Most importantly, you let him believe that you are all he can trust. Over and over again, you murmur it to him when he sleeps in the afternoon sun with his head in your lap, beneath you is a picnic blanket in the garden, you let it infect his mind. 

And still, he pulls away from you. 

He becomes more untouchable than ever. Distant to you the way that stars are, bright in your sky but unreachable, a thousand lightyears away. You sit by your window, waiting for him, hoping he’ll fall back down to earth sometime. 

You think he’s avoiding you. 

It makes you want to curse and scream and cry. It makes you want to throw a tantrum all over again and see if he’ll come running. It makes you want to tear down mountains and carve the moon from the sky. 

You know what you have to do; it will cause a great deal of trouble for you, but you will do it. You will take it for him. Always for him. 

You visit him at Jujutsu Tech for once. 

You show up in his dorm and are mildly surprised that Megumi or Tsumiki aren’t here. You thought you’d at least be able to see them, too.

So instead you sit and wait for him to return in the quiet of his empty room. One hour turns to two, then three. 

The sun settles high in the sky and then begins to sink. 

You doze on his twin bed, in the last rays of the sun that manage to steal through the window, cut through the blinds. 

When you wake, it’s to the shadow of Satoru in his doorway. You sit up, groggy, blinking sleep away. 

“Not that I’m mad to return to a girl in my bed, but, what are you doing here?” He asks and instantly, you can tell he’s tense, on guard. He shuts the door behind him, he wades into the room, avoiding you. He doesn’t greet you with a kiss to the cheek or a secret smile. He falls into the chair at the desk. 

“I haven’t seen you in over a week.” You tell him, voice still hushed with sleep. And then, “where are the kids?”

“With Shoko for a bit. She’s had them for the day, helping them study.” 

“You could’ve brought them to me.” You tell him and perhaps it pains you that he didn’t. 

“Your father let you out of the garden?” He asks in return, avoiding it. Avoiding you. You can feel the distance he is trying to force between you two. His voice is strange. 

You don’t heed his warning. You don’t bother to backtrack. 

“No. I snuck out. I’m sure they’re looking for me.” You tell him and in the dark lavender of evening, you catch a sliver of his smile. A ghost of himself. Your heart trips over itself in blind hope. You press on, “I missed you. I wanted to see you.” 

When he doesn’t respond to that, you add, “I’m worried about you.” 

Now he rises and finally comes to you. He stands, tall and towering over where you’ve sat up on his bed. He lifts a large hand, grown so large since you were kids, and carefully touches the apple of your cheek. 

“No reason to ever worry about me, darling.” He says, but you can tell, even with the blindfold, that his gaze has gone hollow, unseeing you. He pulls his hand away and your cheek tilts, chases after the warmth of his palm; he’s untouchable, so untouchable. “I’m the strongest. You should know better.” 

He turns away from you again, wanders to the window, gazes out at a dark courtyard. 

“Satoru,” you say as gently as you can. 

“I should get you back. Your father will be upset. I’ll take the blame.” 

“Satoru.” 

“I’ll smooth things over with him. I’m sorry to have worried you. Nothing’s wrong, though–” 

“Satoru.” You snap. 

He freezes, finally has the good sense to be quiet for a moment. 

You stand from his bed, rise like a ghost (maybe that’s all you are these days–a ghost of a girl, a vow he can’t shake, the pressing of time that he can only feel, but not see), and drift to him. Your touch doesn’t match your tone or your anger; you are gentle, when you put your hand on his back. 

“Look at me.” You tell him.

When he turns, your fingers skim over his ribs, all the way to his chest. 

You lift your hand to his face, to the blindfold and deftly, you pull at it. 

He frowns and for a moment, you think he might try to pull away and deny you, but he doesn't. 

He goes completely still. 

You tug gently, until the blindfold slips away and hangs uselessly around his neck. 

His eyes are much sadder than you remember, the blue of them all sapphire dark, nightened and deep. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” You ask, now that you can see all of him. And he can see all of you. 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

A grimace drifts across his features. You have always been able to see through the lies, the masks, the godhood he wears. 

You wait with him, patient, and seemingly careful. You can feel the thrum of his heart beneath your palm, can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the simmer of his cursed energy. Of yours. You look at your hand, small against his broadening chest. 

“I’m not lying,” he murmurs, then tries to sweeten you to him by covering your hand with his. His hand has grown so large since he was young. It engulfs yours now. “I have been busy.” 

You think he realizes he wants affection, you can tell in the way he pulls closer. He’s deprived himself of it recently, so you aren’t surprised that a taste of it would make him suddenly hungry. But if he isn’t going to answer, you aren’t going to give into him. You won’t feed him. 

You slip away from him with a disappointed sigh. Coolness rushes between you, separating you, starving him. 

“You’ve always been busy. You always come to visit me.” 

His eyes flash in the darkness. 

“Have you considered that you can’t be the center of my life?” He asks and his voice is light, but barbed. He sounds like his mother. “That I have far more important responsibilities than visiting and playing house with you?” 

You don’t flinch. He’s being needlessly cruel. You know how this plays out. You always know. 

“Spare me,” you tell him, not particularly cruelly, but tired. “Don’t undermine me like that. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

He bristles. Opens his mouth like he might say something, then firmly shuts it. 

Speechless. 

(How did you do that? Suguru laughs, how did you get him speechless?)

The memory rushes to you, of that warm day. Satoru must think of it, too. It must settle over him like a phantom, because Satoru goes perfectly still. You watch any anger or frustration seep out of him, like it’d been punctured. It leaks from him now, so that he’s deflated, just a shell of himself. 

“Is this about Suguru?” You ask him gently, when you think he can stomach hearing his name out loud. 

His lashes flutter, a muscle in his jaw feathers, but otherwise he remains unmoved. 

“Don’t you know everything?” He asks, voice cool, trying to remain untouchable, trying to remain frozen and far from you. 

“You know I don’t.” You answer gently and it’s only half-true. You turn back towards him, step into his orbit once more. 

“But did you know this one?“

“Yes.” You answer honestly, tip your chin up to look into his eyes, all dark heaven. 

He moves so fast that you don’t even catch it. You think he may have even used his technique, caught you so fierce and quickly that you gasp, feel the muscles of his hand jump as he squeezes your face in his large palm. 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He begs and he’s trying to shroud himself in anger, but you can hear the grief in its footsteps. The heartache wells inside of you. “Why wouldn’t you try to stop it?” 

“You don’t understand.” You hiss, “You have no idea–” 

“You should’ve told me!” Satoru’s voice catches, “maybe I could’ve–” 

“You couldn’t have.” You tell him. 

“You don’t know that!” He snaps, “he–we–I would’ve done anything–” 

His eyes well with tears and your hands instantly go up to his shoulders, his neck. 

“Satoru–” you try to soothe, but he’s still gripping you so hard you’ll bruise. 

“I would’ve done anything to stop him–” 

When he falls apart, it is always you there to hold him, to put the pieces of a God back together again. You hold him tight around the middle and he curves over you like a drought-driven plant, desperate, bowed. 

And you tell him again and again, that you’re here. He has you. He’s always had you. He always will. A vow made as children that is still carved into the both of you, written into your fates, and imprinted on your beings. 

Your own religion. 

You lay with him on his little twin bed. You run your hands through his hair. He soothes under your touch. He mouths at your throat in a way that makes you flush darkly, that reminds you you’re alone with him, for once. You’re alone with him in a little twin bed made for one, now holding two. 

And when he admits, “I know you did what was best, but I can’t help but resent you a little.” you almost, almost feel guilty. You feel the lump in your throat, the splintering of your heart, that has always been so painfully, willfully, soft and vulnerable for him.

You have half a mind to start wailing, howling like you’re going to shake apart.

“Some days I loathe you so much that I love you more, or love you so much that I loathe you.” He admits, fingers bruising into your ripe skin, into the softest parts of you. 

Instead you curl around him tighter, like a little asp constricting around its prey. You curl around him and think, I did do what’s best. 

I did what’s best for us.

***

Your father is furious, but Satoru takes the blame, as he promised. 

Your father wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you around Satoru. 

But even after he leaves, your father doesn’t touch you. 

He can’t even look at you. 

He flinches when he does. 

And you stand at the end of the hallway like he used to and you wonder if this is how he always felt. 

You wonder if this is how it will always feel to surpass your parents, to take what they were and be more, to swallow them whole. You wonder if you should feel worse for garnering his fear. 

But then you think of yourself as a child, looking up at him, desperate for his love and acceptance, and in the same way that he could not find sympathy for his own daughter–

You have no sympathy for the father that raised her. 

***

Preparations for the wedding are a nightmare for both you and Satoru. Between dealing with higher ups that both of you would rather overthrow, your father, and his mother, the wedding hardly begins to feel like a wedding at all. Just a spectacle, a feat of the century. 

It doesn’t help that in the midst of this, Satoru is still grieving Suguru, who lives and festers and grows. More than that, Megumi and Tsumiki also demand his full attention. Megumi is picking fights in school. Tsumiki is struggling in other, quiet ways. 

You’ve told him to focus on buying a bigger space for the four of you, that you’ll handle the higher ups and the wedding planning and his mother.

You went many years rarely seeing her. As a child, she watched you and Satoru, always gazed at you a little too intensely, followed you the way a predator must watch prey. Or perhaps the way prey must watch a predator– you never know anymore, which you were. Maybe some horrible beast of both; a rabbit with jagged canines, antlers cut sharp and protruding from your poor head, a wolf with large ears and soft paws, a fox, if nothing else. Both hunted and the hunter.

You don’t know when you became accustomed to the taste of blood in your mouth.

But when his mother pushes, you finally push back. No longer a child, no longer fangless.

You’re taking tea with her, discussing further wedding plans, when she says, “you may have my son fooled, but I see right through you.”

She says this very casually, like she might be saying, the sky is blue, or I am the mother of a god. Both, you think, could ring softly in her melodic voice. She does seem like the mother of a god, all icy hair, now going silver, like a star. And oh, her eyes, her eyes are just like diamonds. Like her son’s, the god.

The tea is scalding, you cup it in your palm and let it warm against your skin, wait to bring it to your lips.

“Oh?”

“The moment I saw you, I knew.” She says, eyeing you over the rim of her own tea cup. “I knew you’d be his downfall. A shame, really. It’s too bad I didn’t have a daughter, sons can be so–”

“I have no intention of being Satoru’s downfall. Quite the contrary, I have done everything in my power to ensure that he will not have a downfall.” You respond coolly and you can feel her gaze, the way it tries to dig down into the tender parts of you, like a hawk sinking its talons around the fleshy bits of your heart.

She doesn’t particularly scare you except–

You don’t know this conversation. You know her fate, because Satoru will feel it and you know him. But this is new territory to you.

“I knew when I saw you,” she repeats, “but especially after your binding vow to him, that you were going to burrow yourself underneath his skin. You were going to be his own fault. The only mortal part of him. That’s why you will be his downfall.”

It strikes you as strange that she believes this. Besides, you know you have only seeded him, twisted and molded and shaped him into the boy-god he is now. You know who his real mortal parts are, know who they will always be, and it is the children in his care.Perhaps, Suguru Getou, too.

No, you were never lovely enough to be anything mortal. You were never normal enough to be anything so simple.

“I think you’re mistaken,” you say and the words come to you the way prophecy does, “I shaped him.”

Her eyes flash like the too-hot part of a flame and she says around her teeth, like she’s biting down into it, “I made him. And he almost killed me.” She collects herself then, but her mouth is twisted into this sickle curve of a grimace, “perhaps one day you will understand, what it’s like to be torn in two, and love them either way.”

You think you must know it already, at least a little.

“Do you love your husband?” You ask. “My mother does not love my father.”

Like your parents, she was arranged to marry Satoru’s father.

And easily, she says, “no. I never did. I learned him.”

“My mother fears my father.” You tell her.

“Many women do.” She responds, “I think we are more similar than you are to your own mother. She was always a little too sweet.”

You hum lightly and finally, dare to take a sip of tea.

“I don’t believe we are much alike at all.” You say before finally setting the tea cup down onto the table in front of you, palm still hot from it.

“You have been scheming your whole life. You were never content to be anything other than extraordinary. Trust me, I was once young and full of the same vigor.” She says dryly, gently tossing some of her long, silver hair over her shoulder. “The only thing that makes you special is that you will be Satoru’s wife.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you.

“No,” you say.

“No?” she asks.

“Can you see the future?” You ask her. 

Silence. 

“I, too, have a technique–” 

“But can you see the future? Are you invincible?” 

She refuses to say no again. 

“You have a technique, but it’s not like ours. Satoru and I have always been different. I am not like you. I wish the only reason I am special is because of him. I wish all I had to do was learn him.” You think you must’ve always known him, anyways, some part of you. There was no need to learn, when you were so interwoven, so intertwined. 

“Spare me the self-pity, it’s unbecoming of a girl of your stature–”

“I love your son.” You say plainly, like one might say the sky is blue, or I am not only a god’s wife, but his godly wife. “And he loves me, too.”

“I didn’t think you were this naive–”

You set your hands against the table, lean forward in a way that must be vaguely threatening because her gaze sharpens. Predator or prey. Some wretched amalgamation of both.

“He’ll kill for me. That isn’t an exaggeration, that’s just a part of the future. He’ll do anything I ask of him. Would your husband, for you? Is he a god? Would a god do anything for you?” You watch her face carefully, the way it twists. 

“I’m his mother–”

Your voice drops to a hush and the light catches the mismatched color of your eyes;

“More than that, I have killed for him already and no one even knows it. I will again. And that is far, far worse than if I was just some scheming wife.”

She sits back in her chair with a look on her face that might be bitterness. You think she tries to swallow around it. Perhaps, it is more akin to hatred. Maybe even, fear.

“Now,” you continue, and with all the grace of a god, you sweep your tea cup into your hand and take another slow, easy sip. “You wanted to talk about the flowers for the wedding?”

And you think she is smarter than she looks because she does not look at you the same way again. If you thought there was contempt in her gaze before, you have never quite seen loathing like this.

You talk of flowers, like you didn’t just admit murder to her. You’d like something blue. It will look nice, you tell her, with gold and silver. 

When Satoru stops by later, with Megumi and Tsumiki in tow, you brush a kiss to his jaw in greeting in front of his mother. Perhaps to spite her. Tsumiki tucks herself up against your side and Megumi lets you smooth his wild hair down against his pouting face.

She gazes at the two dark haired children around you, at the way her son looks lovingly at the three of you and you smile, slow and knowing, asp-like.

“I will know, by the way, what it’s like to love them either way.” You tell her as Megumi tucks his face into your shoulder and you turn to kiss the top of his small head. 

Usurper that he is, you’ll love him either way.

***

Life keeps turning, but you find yourself clinging to the past in a way you aren’t prepared for. You know you must go on, with the wedding, with adulthood, with what you have made but–

But sometimes, when you touch Ieri or Satoru, you let it drag you into the past. Into sweeter memories and the ghost that now haunts the three of you. 

Suguru is there and he is lighter, before Haibara’s death, and he and Satoru toy and tease and play. 

They follow you and Ieri around the garden like shadows. You burn with these visions of him, can’t understand, couldn’t foresee, why you relive it so much. You knew you cared about him but–

You always thought it’d be easier, since you knew. 

You didn’t think you’d miss him or his half moon smiles. 

The past tastes sickly and in it, he holds a peach over your head and lets you reach and jump and squabble for it. He slyly nudges you right into the pond and then he follows you in a moment later. He stretches out in the tall grass beside you, he lays his arm over you, he laughs when you yell and huff and bite. He talks about your wedding and the bachelor party he will throw. A future you will never see. 

He simmers with a love for you and Satoru and Ieri that you feel as if you didn’t see in the present but can only see now, in Hindsight. 

He says things like, “you’re such a curse of a girl.” with the fondest smile on his lips. 

And he says–

In Satoru’s memories, he tells him–

Satoru asks him, “if anything ever happened to me. You’d look after her, wouldn’t you?”

And Suguru says, “of course. I’d do anything for her.” 

Satoru smiles, boyish, infinitely happy and it guts you so thoroughly for a moment that you forget how to breathe, you forget how to stomach this. 

“Careful,” Satoru laughs, “she is still my fiance.” 

Suguru laughs, low and soft and the memory is souring, curdling inside of you in a way that makes you want to throw it all up.

“I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could keep the two of you apart.” 

Except for you, you think, except for you, you wretch and cry and wail. 

***

Your wedding takes place on the eve of your eighteenth birthday. 

You wish you could say you’re prepared, in some way, for all of it. But you find that even a lifetime can’t prepare you for becoming the wife of a God. The ceremony itself is stuffy, rather tense, with uneasy truces between clans and political talk interwoven and murmured and laced into every other sentence. The only people there that you or Satoru genuinely want are his friends. Your mother. 

Who cried the day previous. She apologized again, that she couldn’t stop any of it for you, that it all turned out this way, like it was her fault at all. 

(Not your fault, it’s never your fault–you want to tell her, but don’t.) 

She said she’s only glad you’re marrying someone like Satoru, someone you know, someone you love. Who loves you. 

She said she takes great comfort in that, that at least you’ll know love like that. 

You have to bite back a laugh–love like this? Oh, what it’s done to you. And oh, what you’ve done for it. 

You are married beneath a setting sun on the top of their mortal world, high above the city. It is fit for what they believe are gods. 

“A monumental day, history being made in front of our very eyes. Two of the most extraordinary sorcerers in hundreds of years, now bound together.” The officiant rattles on and on. 

Satoru makes a face and even beneath the blindfold, you can tell it’s a rolling of his eyes. Your lips twist into a half smile. 

Vows are such a tricky thing, you think. 

There are the official ones they have you repeat. But then there are yours, his, ours that have always been there. The ones that have been etched onto your heart since you were a child. 

And the world as his witness, without an ounce of shame, like he is again a child, he vows;

“I will always have you.” 

And with a flash of your teeth, like you’re biting down into it, you repeat, you curse him, “I will always have you.” 

Easily, he promises, easily, he gives himself to you, “You will always have me.” 

Almost viciously, you vow, “you will always have me.” 

Murmurs ripple. His mother is white knuckled. Your father is lock-jawed in anger. Your clan worries and hushes. His does, too. But you don’t see any of it, just Satoru, when he leans down to seal his lips to yours. 

It’s a little harsh, vicious in the way that love is. In the way that your love is, horrible little thing you are, there is nothing and no one now–

Nothing and no one who will take him from you. Who will stop you now. 

***

The reception afterwards is mostly for politics. You and Satoru are supposed to play nice but–

He’s being a shit. Smarmy. You don’t ask him to stop, so he doesn’t. You don’t particularly care to be polite or good, to not frighten the other sorcerers and the clans. In fact, you think Satoru is flexing a little bit, as if to say ‘you wanted this, you wanted this our whole lives. As if to say, we will not be as obedient as you thought. As you hoped.’ 

In hindsight, you think they regret your arranged marriage. 

You don’t know what they expected, forcing two of the most powerful sorcerers together. Did they think you wouldn’t band together? Did they hope you would still hold loyalty to them above all else, and not each other? 

You spent your whole life being reared and raised to be their perfect weapon, their perfect wife, their perfect god. To fit alongside Satoru. Were you not groomed for this? Are you not perfect for it? 

You can’t fathom their shock. 

Still, you can tell he is trying to enjoy his evening, if only with you, if only for you. 

“It is our wedding,” he’d said to you just days prior. “It’s for us. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be,” he’d said, “but now it is.”

You can tell many disapprove of his blatant affection for you, disapprove of the way he’s teasing them to make you laugh. They hate that you laugh, that you won’t scold him. They hate what they have created. 

His arm has been around you nearly the entire evening. Whether on the crux of your waist or the small of your back, around your shoulders or fitting his fingers to the bend of your torso along the lines of your rib, he has clung impossibly close to you. 

“What do you say?” he asks, dropping kisses like falling stars over your cheek, your jaw, tickling along your neck playfully. “Should we find Shoko and Nanami and the kids? I don’t want to spend anymore time with these geezers.” 

“Yes,” you agree, letting him catch you in a fuller kiss, one that bleeds warmth into you, runs a thrill down your spine as you feel the soft brush of his teeth, a little tongue. 

You pull away before he can deepen and he grins at you, a little raucous, a little knowing, before you can pinch his side and get a little yelp from him, before you can spirit him away to where you know everyone waits for you.

“Finally,” Shoko says, leaning back in her chair, “I was going to die of boredom just watching you two greet all of them.” 

“It’s horrendous,” Satoru agrees before Tsumiki, who’d been in Nanami’s care for the evening, bounds straight into Satoru’s arms for a hug.

He laughs and catches her easily, picks her up even though she’s a little too old for it, and spins her around. 

Megumi leaves his seat next to Nanami to ease himself up to your side, wrap his arms around your waist and peer up at you with those eyes so deep. 

“You look nice,” he mutters into your hip and you know it means a lot coming from him. And then, he peeks up at you through his long lashes, “are you happy?” 

The question catches you by surprise, for some reason, and your heart suddenly swells. Tenderness bundles itself up, knots your heart over itself. You think about the question; are you happy? 

Can you be? 

Are you allowed to be? After everything you’ve done? After everything you will do? 

Tears prick your eyes. 

But you are happy, you decide, you are happy now. You are happy for tonight. 

And you nod to him, running your fingers through his unruly hair, “I’m very happy, Megumi.”  

He studies your face, squeezes just a little tighter around you, and says, “then I’m happy, too.” 

Satoru suddenly gets his big hand on the top of Megumi’s head. “Look at you, Megumi, you look so handsome in your suit.” 

Megumi starts to fuss, like he always does with Satoru, batting at his hand, trying to scrap with him, even when Satoru laughs. Perhaps especially when he laughs. Satrou pushes his little head around in his palm, tormenting him. 

Tsumiki eases up to your side as the boys scrap and you welcome her into your arms as if she could have always belonged there. 

When she looks up at you, you can tell she’s debating on saying something. You smooth out a piece of her hair, swiping it behind her ear, “what is it?” You ask and maybe you remind yourself of your own mother finally. 

“I don’t remember my mother’s wedding to Megumi’s father much. I was really young.” She frowns, “I wish–” 

“I wish I remembered more of it. Of them. I wish Megumi remembered them.” You can sense the tears in her before they even well. You can feel your own caught in the back of your throat for her. 

For everything inside of you, you cannot fathom how an unending well has opened inside of you for this child. For Megumi. You always thought, your whole life, the only space inside of you would be an infinite void and only the one who possesses Infinity could ever control that. 

But it’s as if they’ve made a new space. 

You swipe her tears away with your thumb before they can fall. “Tsumiki,” you try to soothe. What can you say? What would you want to hear? What will you want to hear when your own mother is gone? 

How do you not fall apart for her–for everything–of all that will happen to her, here and now? 

Instead, she says, “I hope we remember this one, at least.” And she gives you her best and brightest smile. The one that sparks and brightens a room. 

You hold her tight to you, you clutch to her, perhaps unsure if it’s her who needs this or you. You hold her until you feel as if you can pull away and won’t burst at the seams, until you are certain that you can smile back at her. 

“You will,” you assure her, voice thicker than you’d like, and then, “and it’s okay–Satoru has already taken far too many pictures.” 

She laughs then, overspilling from her in a way that is lovely and young and beautiful. 

You feel arms wind around you from behind, the smell of tobacco, of plum, and smile when you see Ieri’s manicured fingers fasten themselves around you.

She hooks her chin over your shoulder and smiles at Tsumiki, too. 

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you respond, turning your cheek into hers. 

“What do you say, Tsumiki? Should we go dance the night away?” Ieri then says, her smile lazy but genuine and you think, perhaps, she sensed, or knew that Tsumiki was feeling tender. 

You find you are grateful for her, not for the first time in your life, but you realize how much and how grandly Ieri has been there. 

“I’d like to dance!” Tsumiki says and you smile as Ieri unwinds herself from you.

“I’ll get a glass of wine.” She says, “and then we can hit the dance floor.” 

“Do I hear dancing?” Satoru perks up, Megumi caught underneath his arm, kicking and thrashing a little. 

“Satoru, put him down,” you tell him.

“Oh, you’re lucky, Megumi, my wife has set you free.” And he sets the boy back down onto his feet, who looks ready to scrap again with the little scowl on his face, but you take hold of his wrist before he can.

“Come on, Megumi, we’re going to dance.” You say to him, tugging lightly and his frown deepens, but he does allow you to pull him towards the dance floor. 

No one is dancing because it’s a stuffy room of jujutsu higher ups, sycophants and clan leaders. There is music, but no one is dancing.

“Nanami, you too!” Satoru cries, throwing his arm around the poor young man. Freshly eighteen as well. 

“I’m going to need a drink,” he mutters and it makes you laugh, blossoming out of you. 

“Where’s Utahime?” Satoru then asks, “let’s get everyone.” 

It is a small struggle to grab everyone, but once done, the dance floor welcomes you. 

Nanami and Utahime need at least two drinks, before they give in and begin to dance, Nanami bobbing along and Utahime beginning to sway and move. Ieri, you think, has been tipsy this whole time and you don’t blame her. Megumi takes a little bit to drag out of his shell–

But you take his hand and you dance with him, letting him lead you, ducking beneath his arm when he spins you. You bring him out and back in, spin around the room with him until he’s cracking a smile, until you’re laughing, genuinely, with all the love inside of you. 

Murmurs spread around you, people gossiping, passing judgment at the group in the center. But Ieri pours wine into your mouth carefully, laughing when some gets on your chin, wiping it away quickly to not fall any further. You and Utahime work to get Nanami to loosen up–you make him dance with you, too, can see the flush of pink high on his cheeks as he looks to Satoru, who only laughs merrily in return.

 And suddenly two drinks have turned to four and perhaps people are scandalized.

By young people, being young for once. 

By the way the kids are running around, laughing, and screaming. Dancing and singing. You and Satoru let them terrorize the place. Satoru bends down to Megumi and tells him to go steal sweets for him, to go trip that man there, and go ahead and bump into her as well.  

They’re mortified by the way Satoru grabs you, curls a broad hand around your waist and pulls you close, sways with you to the upbeat music from the DJ Satoru specifically requested despite everyone’s disapproval. 

The night blooms. 

Your father tries to convince the DJ to stop. Satoru’s mother is scowling from across the room but–

When you catch your mother’s eye, she is smiling. Nodding her head along subtly. 

You pull away from Satoru suddenly.

It was never in your mother’s future, this moment, but you can’t help but feel like you need it now, more than anything. Maybe she needs it more than anything. There’s a questioning look on Satoru’s face, before he sees where you’re already headed off to.

And then your hands are in your mother’s and she’s shaking her head no a little, laughing nervously, but you don’t let her go. 

You don’t want to let her go. 

“I can’t–” she says to you but you don’t listen, dragging her out to the dance floor. 

You know her time is rapidly approaching, quicker than you could’ve ever realized. You’ve blinked and suddenly you are not just a child who knows what will happen to her, but a new adult, on the night of your wedding, not even a year out. 

All at once, you realize how rapidly everything has approached. The world turns and you just wish you could still it, place one hand over Time and capture it between your fingers, wrestle it still. 

Instead, you spin around the room with your mother. She’s shy and it occurs to you that she probably never got this at her own wedding.  

So you give it to her now. 

Satoru dances with her. Let's you dance with her until she laughs a little. 

And she tells you she loves you. She’s happy for you, if you’re happy. 

She still slips from your hands and recedes to the edges again, but she watches you with shining eyes, overjoyed and lovely.

You look at all of your friends as they dance and drink and shout and sing, watch Megumi and Tsumiki, and perhaps at the same time as Satoru, you realize there is one missing. 

(Perhaps three, in total, because you wonder about a future with Suguru and the two little girls. Two little girls like Megumi and Tsumiki. You think they should’ve been friends, that it would’ve been nice to have them around–)

You look at Satoru the moment his face falls a little, as his brows pinch into a sort of mourning that you know well. 

You slip your hand into his. 

“I wish–” he starts.

“I know.” You tell him, “me too.” 

He shudders a little, a rocky inhale, a slow exhale like he’s trying to stabilize himself. 

Grief lingers in both of you, stitched into your existences, melded down to your marrows. 

Perhaps for all gods, it is. Perhaps it is a requirement of godhood. 

You squeeze his hand. 

You pull him back into life, into your friends, and evermoving Time. The world spins and so do you, late into the night, when everyone has gone home.

When the stars sing and Nanami’s tie has been lost and Shoko’s hair is a mess and there are lipstick smudges on Satoru’s cheeks and the kids are tired.

Megumi is sleeping on two chairs put together and Tsumiki is trying her hardest not to nod off as well. 

“I’ll make sure everyone gets home safely,” Utahime promises, a little weary herself, but sober, and still walking. Which is more than the rest can say. And for once, she hugs Satoru and gives him a genuine smile. She tells him she’s happy for him; she’s glad he was able to have fun, at least, on his wedding night. She hugs you, too, and you don’t know Utahime well yet. 

But you will, when Satoru becomes a teacher alongside her. 

Nanami gently wakes Megumi, eases the drowsy boy into standing alongside his sister. Megumi is tired enough that he lets Nanami hold his hand to usher him out. Tsumiki tucks up next to him, too, and your heart aches watching them. 

Ieri kisses your cheek sloppily, and then Satoru’s, who laughs at her antics, who shoos her into Utahime’s waiting arms. 

Until they’re parading out and it is just you and Satoru, always just you and Satoru, at the end of a night. At the beginning of a day. 

Your shadows cast tall and wide behind you in the last lights of the venue. 

He looks at you and smiles and says;

“Let me take you home.” 

***

In front of you sprawls your new home. 

You have yet to see it in person, until tonight. 

Satoru had whined about wanting to surprise you, how it was impossible to do so, since you’d already seen the future.

I’ve already seen the home you will give me, you tell him and you want to tell him, I see it in my dreams. I see it in the softest, most shuddering parts of my heart. 

Still, it is hard to put into words what you feel as you gaze at the front door, at the windows that line the place; wide and glittering and will certainly let in enough light to drown the place in it. 

“Do you like it?” Satoru prompts, nervous, “the outside, anyways?” 

A laugh springs from you, “yes,” you gasp, “of course I do.” 

He unlocks the front door then and before you can take another step, you’re suddenly airborne. 

You yelp.

“It’s tradition somewhere, isn’t it? To carry you over the threshold of our new home?” 

This time your laugh is full and bursting, clutching tight to his neck, the silks of white that drape over your body flutter and twist in his big hands. It hikes up and you can feel the cool brush of night, just before Satoru kicks the door shut behind him.

And then he sets you down and–

You take a few, fawn-like steps, into your new home. It’s open with dark wood but he’s decorated it with soft creams and silky flowers on low tables. It’s surprisingly put together and surprisingly warm. 

Homey, almost. 

You think it looks nothing like his childhood home of marble and steel and clean, shocking white. Nor yours, brooding and stiff and vacant. It looks comfortable, like you build something here. 

It looks painfully, viciously, human.

Your chest tightens. Your vision blurs.

“There’s a garden out back, not quite as big as the one you grew up in but there’s a pond still and–and Tsumiki and Megumi finally have their own rooms upstairs.” Satoru says, watching, enamored, as you move about the space. 

It isn’t huge, not long and sprawling, but it isn’t small, either. And for this area, so close to the campus, you know it was no small lump of money. 

You have seen yourself here for awhile now, in Satoru’s future, living and sleeping and humming to yourself as you move about the space. You have seen your life here already but now it truly blossoms in your vision. 

You turn to him and you realize you’re crying, tears finally brimming over and onto your cheeks. This will be the first time away from your parents, from your garden, from the small world you’d been isolated to all your life. 

It will be your first night with Satoru, the first of many, of forever. 

“Don’t cry,” he hushes but you can tell, perhaps, that his voice has gotten thicker, tighter with emotion. He takes your face in his great, broad hand and curls it around you protectively. There’s an inkling of possession in the act, the sudden firmness, the way he guides your face up to his. 

Then, soft as midnight, dark as the sky, “I always told you I’d take you away, didn’t I?” 

You shiver, feel it race up your spine at the edge he has in his voice. Like he was always planning it, like he’d thought about it so often it turned him inside out, like it was an inevitable part of your future. 

You nod into the warmth of his hand, nuzzle into the cup of his palm. 

“And I have.” He says, “you don’t ever have to see your father again, if you don’t want to. Any of your clan.” 

You know you will see your father once more. 

Satoru swipes away a tear before it can fully cascade down your cheek. 

“Don’t cry,” he says again. 

You reach up to slip your fingers, cool and soft, against his cheek, to dip under the fabric of his blindfold. He wore it the whole night, you missed his eyes the whole night. 

You let your fingers explore the soft part of his under eye, careful as you feel his lashes tickle, as you creep up towards his brow bone. 

The blindfold comes off in a heap. 

His eyes are glassy, too, like he may cry. 

“I love you,” you say, perhaps for the first time so plainly. It falls from your mouth as easily as stars falling from the sky. 

He seems to shudder with it, before he eases forward, brings your face up like a flower seeking sun, and presses tender, little kisses to your cheek. 

I love you, too, they seem to say, to scatter like petals, I love you, too. I’ve always loved you. 

You turn your face, seeking, and his lips catch yours in a deeper kiss. Slow and warm like honey, ambrosia poured hot down the body of you, feeling it slither deeper. You have rarely been truly alone with Satoru throughout all your years; it didn’t stop you from kissing or touching, if not carefully, if not always with one eye open. 

But now there is no one but you two. 

And you feel confident in pressing closer, in tangling your hand in his hair, silky and soft between your fingers. You feel his hand flex, before sliding along your hips, pulling you closer still. 

A soft nip of your teeth, testing, letting you flex your nails in his shoulder. 

You feel his hitch of breath.

Your desire sharpens, digs its claws into you. You’ve always wanted him in some way; wanted him near and to be yours, wanted him weak and strong, wanted him desperate and assured. You have wanted him in the marrow of you, since you were a child. Since the moment he told you that he would always have you. 

“‘Toru,” you murmur and your voice is perhaps softer than you’ve ever heard it, higher in a way that is just shy of a whine. You flush with embarrassment. Heat burns your ears, your neck. 

For all your own strength, you are always rendered horrendously hopeless for him. It’s like an affliction, some illness you can’t shake, something that has overridden you your whole life.

“What is it?” He hushes back, lips hovering over yours, “what do you need?” 

It’s almost mocking, in that sweet, lullaby voice of his.

You seize him, by the hair, by the front of his clothes, “don’t be cruel.” 

Your voice wavers, though.

And he huffs out a laugh, reaches one hand up to untangle it from his shirt, soothes until you release the hold on his hair, too. “I’d never be.” He lies and then he ducks his face to the crook of your neck. 

You’ve felt him here before, felt him nuzzle and kiss softly, felt the tickle of his hair on your cheek. But now you feel the wet warmth of his mouth, open, tongue soft against your skin. The strike of teeth. You always knew he was holding back with you before; in fact he’d done so deliberately at points. 

If you’d crawled over him, he’d pause, and ease you off. His cheeks had always been so pink. He’d had to explain it wasn’t rejection but rather a thread of his control. 

Not to be a traditionalist, he’d say, but I’ll only have you when it’ll only be us and all the time in the world. 

You wish your technique was time bending, rather than sight. You wish you could manipulate it more than you do now, wish you could manipulate the actual length of it. Freeze it. Hold it. 

Rewind it. 

You push at him a little and for a moment, he doesn’t relent, and you are reminded of how strong he’s become. Broad and tall. Lean with muscles, grown into himself in a way that you have always known and yet, are still surprised to feel beneath your hands. 

Finally, he eases away from you and you step away, slip from him to wander further into the house without a word. 

He watches you for a moment, the way he always has, explore the garden, wander around a new place that is yours. His. Each other’s. It’s a strange dance you both know well, this sort of give and take, push and pull where you make him chase. You make him wait. You make him come to heel. 

You ease around the banister of the stairs and slowly begin to climb them when he finally moves from his spot. He comes to the side of the stairs and you are only just as tall as him, two steps up, with the railing between you. 

Just as he had earlier to you, you put your finger beneath his chin and lift his face, tilt it up into looking at you. Pretty boy that he is, he gazes at you from beneath lashes like snowflakes. 

“I want to see the rest of my house,” you say softly. 

His smile is fond, if not amused. 

“Yours?” He asks. 

“Mine.” You agree with a sharp, small smile of your own and his laugh is a welcome sound. 

“Everything is yours.” He agrees. 

“Mine,” you agree again and this time you kiss him soundly as a reward. 

Only briefly though, a lick of heat, before you slip from him and disappear up the stairs. Quicker than before, you take the stairs, as if to run from him. 

In the blink of an eye, Satoru shudders to life in front of your vision. 

(You know this moment, have cherished the memory in his future before it became a memory at all.) 

He catches you before you can get past him and you still yelp in surprise. 

Funny, you think, he’s never done that to you before. He usually lets you lead and run and stray from him. He follows dutifully. 

“Cheater,” you gasp, looking up at him in surprise. 

“I didn’t know there were rules.” He smiles, but you duck out from beneath his hold and he allows you to escape, wandering deeper into the hallway.

You know the first room on your left is Megumi’s. And then Tsumiki’s is on the right. You know they will share the bathroom beside Megumi’s room. And if you go straight down the hallway, at the end of it, will be your bedroom. 

So that is the first one you pick, it’s the first door you open. 

Dark wood and pale blue. Gold. Cream. The bed is set low into its frame, larger than you even thought they made. There is a balcony attached, draped with curtains of off-white, hiding the night sky from you, hiding the small table and chairs he’s placed out there, that you will spend many mornings and evenings on. The room is–

Perhaps a flex of his money, more than the other places of the house (despite the kid’s room, with all the toys in the world he could ever give them, with more than they know what to do with but Satoru has always been a spoiler, an indulger–)

And you can tell now that he is trying to spoil you. 

You turn to face him, just as he comes up behind you, and before he can ask another question, you pull him down into a fierce kiss. 

He makes a startled noise against your lips, before you taste the smile at the corners of his mouth, feel it, perhaps it’s smugness. Satisfaction that he’s pleased you. 

For a moment, you think you have the lead on him, but he suddenly nudges you backwards. Blindly, you let him lead you, steps tentative and small, but he demands more, and he takes the space that you relent eagerly. 

You pull away, to gain your footing, to slip from him again and this time, when you dart away–

You know he will warp in front of you, have seen this moment many times before, so you dance away from him, as if to prove something to him. 

He laughs, “cheater.” 

The smile you give him over your shoulder makes him follow, trail after you as you wander around the room. 

There is an attached bathroom, large and spacious. Luxurious. The tub is deep and wide, overlooking a window of the gardens. It’s beautiful. 

When you turn back to face Satoru once more, he’s seated on the edge of the bed. He’s loosened the top several buttons of his shirt. Opened himself up further to you. You keep away, as if to tempt him. 

“The bath is huge,” you say. 

“Needed to fit both of us.” He says so plainly it takes your breath clear from your lungs. The idea of it, the two of you, bare and in the tub together, force heat down into your face, your neck. 

He laughs a little and if his ears are pink, too, who's to say? 

“Are you shy about it?” He asks, and then, “are you scared?” 

Your fingers twist in the silk white of your kimono, the beading catching against your skin. Carefully, tentatively, you nod.

“Are you?” You ask.

“Not really.” And then, “a little. I want to please you.” 

For a heartbeat, you almost ask if it’s his first time, if he’s sure, since he’s not so nervous. But you know his future better than anyone. You know he means it when he says, “I want to–” 

He swallows around what could be glass or pride or rationality;

“I want to consume you.” 

He laughs but it seems strange, a little off kilter, “I want revenge, with how you make me feel, you know?” 

You can feel your chest quicken its cadence, rise and fall sharply, your heart squeezing and pumping as hard as it can inside of you. 

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, “I don’t mean to scare you more.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

His left eye glints when he tilts his head back to regard you. 

A God will try to consume me tonight. 

A thrill goes through you, vicious and exciting in equal measure. 

“I’ll be good to you,” he promises. “I’d never hurt you.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, but you don’t promise it back, nor do you fully believe him. 

“Come here,” he says and he spreads his legs a little, perhaps subconsciously. 

You realize somewhere along the line he’d become a man. And he’s always kept his desires hidden from you previously, or perhaps far from you, almost untouchable. So to be confronted with them now, you feel a little unstable. Wobbly on your feet. 

You pull at your wedding garments, silky beneath your fingers, but aren’t brave enough to take it off. You swallow hard. You know if you go to him, you’ll be undone. 

“We don’t have to, either, if you don’t want. We’ve never done anything by the book, anyways.” He says and you feel as if he’s peering into you, into the squirming, soft, terrified parts of you. 

You realize you know intimacy with violence; you’ve only been able to express your desire for him with tooth and nail. You have never been able to melt or be delicate, but met his affections with violet bruises and tender-pink scrapes. 

You have never been able to swallow around gentle love. Or…pleasure. 

Shame seeps in at the idea of it, pleasure; your pleasure from him.

I want to please you. 

You always assumed when you had him, it would be a sort of claiming, you always saw it as another way to sink your claws into him. Of course, you want him, perhaps more than anything, but you never saw your own pleasure in it. Just, the pleasure of knowing he was yours, all yours. 

“No,” you blurt, “I want to. I want you.” 

“Then come here,” he says again, slower. 

And the way he says it, low and soft, lilting almost, turns you into just a girl. Disarms you so easily you almost sway with it. 

Instead, you drop to your knees, easy, and plant your hands on the floor. 

The moment you make the first move to crawl to him, he curses softly. You feel your cheeks burn and burn and burn. It isn’t like–

He’s seen you crawl a thousand times before, in the garden, over him and Ieri, roll around in grass and hill. He’s seen you be wild and untempered and free. 

But now you willingly follow his command, no less like this. You force yourself to pick your head up, to catch his eyes, to crawl easy and slow to him like you have a thousand times before. 

And when you get between his legs, he takes you by the face and kisses you fiercely, with more violence you’ve ever felt from him before. 

You rise up to twine your arms around his neck as arms band around your waist and just like that, you are in his lap once more. Just like that, you are kissing a god open mouthed and feeling it burn and twist inside of you. 

His hands slip up your sides, greedy in a way he has never allowed himself to be, catching on fabric and folds. He pulls you tighter to him, so you can feel that he’s–

You flush darkly. Moan softly with the realization and then feel the urge to hide in him, in the crook of his shoulder. He doesn’t let you, though, when you try to shy away, holds you still over him. So you have to feel him, so you have to try and keep from panting. 

“I had no idea you were so shy,” he breathes, almost laughing when you squirm, “I always saw you as unabashed.” 

“I never–” you don’t even know how to say it, and you hate how your voice pitches when you add, “I don’t have any experience with this.” 

“Neither do I, really.” He agrees, “but it’s just me.” He cooes, “it’s always been me.” 

This time he does allow you to hide in his neck, to duck down into him and let him soothe you with a big hand up and down your flank, your back. You’re near trembling with it and he must realize it, because he adds, “you really are nervous.” 

But he isn’t exactly being comforting. 

You sink your nails into him, “you’re enjoying this.” 

He laughs into your hair, “a little. I’ve never seen you this way before.” 

You nip at his throat a little, just the nick of your incisors, and feel him shudder beneath you. You feel his hips flex up into yours and with your legs spread, knees on other sides of his thighs, you can feel him, hot and hard at your center. 

You cling to him.

His hands flex around your waist, squeezing gently, before he suddenly urges the soft rock of your hips against his. 

It makes you gasp, it makes you terrified. 

Again, he moves your hips for you, guiding. Again, it’s startling to feel him, feel and know that there is so little fabric between you two. So little between you; no more clans or parents to stand in your way. 

He kisses you again, hard but sweet, still guiding you, moving your hips back and forth over him. Back and forth, until–

A moan startles out of you and this time, you feel yourself twitch your hips into him on your own accord. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, “do what feels good. Doesn’t it feel good?” 

Another rock of your own hips, another push of his own and you nod, hovering above him slightly, lips parted over his. 

Then, you don’t need his hands at all, don’t need them to guide you at all. So he lets you learn and explore, lets his own hands wander over places he previously never allowed himself. He lets himself touch you in a way you have never felt; there is a sudden urgency to him now. 

You arch your back a little, encouraging, allowing, and his hands ease up onto your chest, all warmth from his palms seeping into you. It’s a surprise, almost, the heat of him, the way you fill his hands. 

He groans behind his teeth, squeezes lightly, as if afraid to hurt you and then bolder, harder. 

Your breath hitches when his thumb catches on the peaks of your breasts from over the fabric. So he does it again, firmer, and again, until you’re keening softly. Until you’re bucking a little more involuntarily against him. 

He suddenly pulls at the silk ribbon wrapped delicately around your waist, twists it around a hand until you feel the knot come away, feel the fabric give the way your stomach does, dropping slightly. 

You fist your hands in his shirt again, perhaps afraid. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, holding the front of your kimono closed still, if only for you, if only to give you a moment to adjust. The silk in his hands looks small, smaller than all of it swathed around you, drowning you in its starlight. 

When you’ve lessened your grip on him, he opens you up to him, painstakingly slow, bares you to him, pulls it down enough to pool at your waist. 

You feel the urge to hide again, to sink your nails into his skin, to fuss under his gaze. 

But then his bare palms are on your skin, warm hands, solid, real, burning hands that scorch up your torso to cup your breasts again. 

He watches your face now, lips parted, as his thumb sweeps over your nipples again, watches the way your features twist up. The feeling turns lightning hot, burns itself down to the wick inside of you, pooling low in your core. 

And Satoru is–enchanted. Enamored. Eyes a little rounded, hands eager. 

Without warning, he suddenly dips forward, lips parted, and fastens himself to the bud of your breast. 

Your hand disappears into his hair, shocked, fiending for an anchor and he groans against you when you tighten your hand into a fist. You pull, but it only encourages him, tongue laving over you, pink darting out against your flesh. 

You think he’s thought of this before, thought about doing this to you, wanted it for awhile now. You think it’s going to unravel you, as he drags his lips over to your other breast, as he latches on there, too. 

You can’t help but squirm in his embrace, pushing your hips into his, before arching your back into his seeking mouth. You can’t decide what you’d rather have, don’t think it matters because he’s the one in control now, holding you to his mouth, ducked down to your chest. 

You feel the graze of teeth. The sudden littering of kisses, nips. When his eyes flick back up to your face, he looks a little dazed, eyes all blue haze, glassy. 

He suddenly lays back, onto his elbows, hands falling back to your hips and you feel them squeeze, feel them guide you again. 

And he just watches a moment, with you on top of him, half bare, wedding silks petaled and pushed to your lower waist. His cheeks are flushed, lips stung pink, lashes fluttering as he watches you. 

He curses under his breath. 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him curse this much before. 

“Angel,” he says, unbridled, from some deeper part of him, in a tone of voice that makes you flush. “Angel,” he says again, softer, more loving, breaking open on his lips like ripe fruit, “look at you, angel.” 

You tip forward, unable to keep from him, unable to remain up and so bare. So you press yourself to his chest, press your lips to his frantically, desperately seeking his solace, whatever comfort he’ll give you. Hide your bare chest to his, feel him hum against your lips, big hands all over your lower back, dipping lower still. 

“Lift your hips for me,” he says against you, rewards you by peppering kisses across your cheek, the corner of your mouth, your jaw, when you listen to him. He eases more of the fabric off of you, until his hands are running against pale lace, thumbing along the waist band of your panties. 

You shiver with more skin exposed, with your kimono gone. 

You pull at his own clothes desperately, if uncoordinated, just grabbing and fisting. You feel his laugh, taste it against your mouth, more than you even hear it. And his hands finally come up to help you, to ease off buttons, pull the fabric of his own out of the way until you can feel his bare chest. His bare arms. Muscled beneath soft skin. He’s so—

Sometimes you wonder, when he got so large. When did he become so strong? He was once so lanky. 

You keep pulling, until his entire torso is exposed to you, until you’re perched on his lap with your hands on his bare stomach. 

The dipping of his hips, the sculpted lines, draw your interest, eyes cast down as you finally take him in, too.

You inhale slow, grow brave enough to let your fingers brush against the button of his pants. 

“Go on,” he urges, watching you raptly. Eyes darting between your face and your nimble fingers.

You swallow hard and carefully pull the button through. Let it pop open easily with the tension there, can feel the heat of him, the hardness. Before you can falter, you take the zipper in hand and tug gently as well, until it reveals the dark briefs and—

The outline of him.

You look back up to him, perhaps for guidance, perhaps to gauge his own reaction, and he must sense your sudden uncertainty. 

“C’mere,” he soothes, bringing you to him in another kiss, heated and slow and deep. Tongue dipping against yours, licking softly into you until you’re distracted. 

Too distracted to notice where his hands are going, until you’re suddenly rolled onto your back, underneath him.

He slots his waist against yours. You can feel him more clearly through his briefs now, can feel the way he twitches as he pushes all tight up against you.

When he breaks from this kiss, it’s messier, spit dewy and wet between you. And his mouth eagerly trails down your jaw, sloppy kisses, and drags of his tongue down your throat, back to your chest.

He lingers here again, suckling, humming against you contently. Your hands sink back into his hair, moan bursting from you sweetly when he flicks his tongue just so. His eyes light up with the sound, working over the bud again and again, making your hips arch and ache.

He makes you sore with his own inexperience and eagerness, makes you fuss, until he relents and heads—

Lower.

“Satoru,” you call and the anxiety that picks up your voice doesn’t even make him pause. As if he’s expecting it.

His lips trail over your stomach, scattering wet little kisses.

You tug at his hair, trying to urge him back up, but he doesn’t listen.

He sidles down lower, manhandles you open so he can hook your legs over his shoulder. You try to shut your thighs but he easily keeps you parted, like you’re hardly trying at all.

“Satoru,” you say again, in warning, voice trembling, “don’t—please—“ 

He arches a brow, considers you, before completely disregarding you. 

You make a noise of irritation. 

“Stop being so shy,” he coos, “this is how I want you—this is—“

He glances down between your legs with a reverence that makes you hide your face in your hands, “this is what I’ve dreamt about.” 

He sets his lips to your inner thigh. 

“You’re so embarrassing!” You gasp between your fingers. 

He laughs and you can feel it, against the crux of your leg, so close to where you’re aching and hot and— “I haven’t even done anything yet.” 

He dots warm, open mouthed kisses to your skin, up and down your thighs. The sharp press of his teeth make you jump and squirm away from his hold, but he keeps you still and near. 

He takes his time, too much of it, as you begin to fuss again. You cry out to him, pull at his hair meanly, and all he does is muffle his laugh against you again. 

“I’m being cruel, aren’t I?” He says. 

You don’t know where he’s gotten his confidence, but it makes you want to hide or scream or drag your nails across his skin until it comes away torn and tattered. 

You think it’s something he’s always been rather content with, eager for, brave around—you. Your touch. Touching you. 

As if to say, since I am touchable to you, I will ruin you for any other touch. As if to say, well if I am not allowed to hide from you, you are certainly not allowed to hide from me.

You nod your head, bleary eyed.

“Okay,” he hushes, “okay.” 

The sudden hot press of his mouth to your core, through the pale blue panties, makes you gasp all strangled and tight.

“Satoru—“ you whimper in embarrassment, and you want to close your legs and just disappear. You want to twist away from him and hide. 

He hums against you, low and soft, and you can feel him mouthing and kissing over the fabric, where you’re most sensitive. 

He hooks a finger in the waistband of them and pulls, tugs gently and this time you really do sit up and try to get away from him.

“Calm down,” he says and there’s still an insufferably handsome smile at the corner of his lips, “it feels good, doesn’t it?”

“It’s so—“ 

Vulnerable, terrifying, horrible.

As if he can read your mind, as if he knows this moment the way you do, “what are you scared of?”

You swallow and look down at him and he peers back up at you, eyes all heaven blue, a little lovestruck, a little too hungry. 

You can’t even form the words, shaking your head a little, hands coming up to hide your face again. 

“Ah, come on now,” he muses and he sits up with you now, too. He pulls your hands away from your face and holds them in his, trapping them so you can’t run from him. “Tell me.” 

“Being bare.” You manage to get out, “being so—“

“Open to me?” He asks, “it’s a horrible feeling, isn’t it?” 

You realize he means that you have always been able to see every aspect of him; every aspect of his future and past and know it and have it and claim it. You know perhaps more about himself than he does at points. 

And maybe that’s all intimacy is, is knowing someone, very horribly, in ways that they may never know themselves.

You don’t know yourself like this, desire-driven, flayed open, a live wire of sensitive nerves and squishy, soft terror. You don’t know and won’t know what he sees or feels or tastes, you don’t know what he thinks.

In the same way that he has never known what you see or feel, what you tasted when you bit down on his future, what you think or know. 

I want revenge.

There’s a certain delight in his eyes, when he says, “I think you’ve gotten away with being very guarded for a long time. And I won’t have you guarded with me anymore.” 

You try to move your hands, take them back, or maybe suddenly cling to him and beg and simper and remain guarded. You want to try and manipulate him, you realize sharply, so that he’ll do this your way.

But he holds fast. 

“Lay back down,” 

“Satoru—“

“I’ll only ask once more.”

Tentatively, you lay back onto your elbows and he allows your hands to slip from his because you’ve obeyed him. 

You feel strange, experiencing this moment where you had previously only seen in the future, skipped over it almost, out of—

Shyness. 

He settles back down into the crux of your hips and this time, when he pulls the sweet, lace panties from your hips, all you do is let out a shuddering breath. Defeat, maybe, or anticipation, you can’t tell. 

His hand comes up, soothing, giving you the smallest comfort, before you feel his thumb, as careful as ever—

Slipping through ribbons of silky flesh, slick with desire, so sensitive that you squeeze your eyes shut.

He makes a soft noise, intrigue or affection, and adds a little more pressure.

“How do you touch yourself?” He asks and when you chance a glance down to him, you feel as if you’ll shake apart. 

His eyes are so dark and lust-blown, pools of blue ink. 

“I don’t know—“ you gasp.

His eyebrows quirk upwards in surprise, “you don’t know?” 

“Satoru—“ It comes out as a warning.

Don’t tease, don’t be mean, don’t be cruel.

“Don’t you touch yourself?” He asks and he glances back down to the way his thumb moves through you slowly, up and down, easy, with its slick glide.

In truth, not often. Or much at all. You explored, a little, you know, technically. 

But you just—neglected yourself. Your desire. You thought, in the scheme of things, there was so much more to worry about than pleasure. 

You don’t know when, but you became shy of your own body unless it was pain, unless it bloomed to bruise or fit to bleed or made you cry. You thought it strange to chase pleasure, especially at your own hands.

Did you even deserve it?

“Not really—“ you get out.

“You know what sex is, don’t you?” He teases and this time you flick his ear and make him laugh, warm and blossoming into the skin of your thigh. 

“I just didn’t—I don’t know!” You snap and now he sees that he’s pushing you perhaps a little too far because he softens. 

“Alright,” he says, “then we’ll find out.” And then his eyes catch yours, glittering in low light, “but you have to tell me what feels good. Can’t get shy on me.”

And then as gently as possible, you feel his thumb press fractionally inside you. His hands and fingers are bigger than yours so the sensation is strange and a little startling. 

You gasp.

He draws out, then gently back in. His eyes fixed on where your body swallows around his finger. 

Again, he repeats it and this time, pushes a little deeper.

To feel someone inside you is horribly vulnerable. Especially with his gaze fixed so squarely on where you’ve hardly seen yourself—

You always understood that this opening was a little unreachable. Even to yourself.

It’s why we keep our children there, isn’t it?

So as the feeling blossoms and Satoru murmurs softly to you, you find your hips twitching a little towards him. 

“There,” he coos, “does it feel good?” 

You nod, soft, small, and are rewarded by getting more of him. You throb, can feel it, the little pulse in your body and catch the cry that threatens to burst out of your throat behind your teeth. Trap it. You’re still scared to let it out or to give into pleasure. 

His thumb disappears to run outside of you again and you think he’s being a little indulgent now. He’s exploring, gently, watching, fixated.

Until he finds the bundle of nerves that makes you jolt.

He laughs a little, “right there?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, chest tight, knowing this is where, of any place you’ve felt pleasure, it was from here. And you know, technically, what he’s found and what he wants with how he sets his attention there now. 

Your body tenses but you don’t know—

When he dips forward to lave his tongue gently over your folds, you finally let go of that cry. 

You aren’t expecting it, can hardly process the wet heat of his mouth, as he makes another noise, low and needy and presses his mouth to you again.

Again, his tongue rolls out, and then he kisses, and then he’s open mouthed again and he’s experimenting. Tasting. Testing. And you’re just forced to bear it, your desire and his, in the small space between your legs.

You can tell he’s inexperienced, if not infinitely earnest and enthusiastic. And perhaps with your own inexperience and sensitivity, it makes it all worse. Or better. It feels—

You tangle a hand in his hair again and he groans against you when you pull on silver strands. You can feel the sound in your core and you tremble with it, shudder. 

His mouth is slick and shining and pink. 

He looks a little wrecked, a little uncertain and wobbly finally, too. 

“So good,” he murmurs, almost to himself, “you’re so good. Better than I imagined. How does it feel?” 

You whine a little, throwing your free arm over your eyes as you flop back onto the bed and he makes a displeased sound. You’re trying to hide from him. And he won’t stand for it, just like you never stood for it with him. 

“Use your words for me, angel.” He torments, he just about sings in that stupid, lovely voice of his. 

“It—“ you get out, “it feels good.” 

And then his mouth is back on you, bolder, a flash of wet tongue opening against you, messily devouring you as a reward. His eyes go soft lidded, desire-filled, all hazy newfound lust. 

You realize, dazedly, that his hips are pressing into the mattress, his own desire on a tight leash. 

“It feels good—“ your voice pitches, hips arching up into his grasp as everything turns molten and—and—

Good. 

It feels so good, you realize with a jolt, this strange heat. 

Like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

You feel his finger then, easy and slow, dip back inside you. Feel yourself cling to it. You can feel the way his tongue comes back up to that bundle of nerves to lick broad and slow over it.

Sloppy, but determined, eyes pitching back up to watch your face contort. 

You’re a fragile thing in his hands, you realize, teetering towards a precipice that frightens you, but that you know will—

It’ll feel good. 

“Toru—“ kitten soft, pulling fitfully at his hair, “I’m going to—“ you can’t even say it, can’t get the word to form in your mouth because it feels so strange there, but he groans against you and pushes a little deeper, gets a little more firm with you.

Your breath gets caught in the tangle of your throat, all knotted up, and the pleasure crashes on you swiftly and firmly. Takes you in it’s jaws and makes you squirm and cry out, whimpering as you feel—

You can feel the pulsing in your core against his eager mouth, feel the way it tightens and sucks at his finger. 

You try to shut your legs again, involuntarily, and he keeps you open.

Forces you open.

It is a horrible feeling.

Even worse when he’s being—lewd, licking broad stripes, letting translucent spit and, and—

Your desire drip and fall from his shining mouth.

You whimper, try to squirm away from him now as your pleasure gains a sharp edge and a vicious side to it. He must finally take enough pity on you or come out of his own haze, to notice, and finally draw away. 

And he looks at your face, perhaps disheveled, perhaps a little hazy in your own way, seeking and lost and desperate and he smiles. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, coming up the length of your body, pressing his lips against yours before you can even think about it. Doubt it. Fret about it. You taste yourself on his mouth and it makes your heart trip up over itself, messy kiss that it is, it makes you shy again. But he doesn’t allow you to be. Still, you duck your face into his throat, peppering kisses there, nuzzling up against him, desperate for his affection suddenly. To be praised and stroked and adored. “So sweet when I strip you bare.” 

As if to counter him, you sink your teeth into his neck, and he laughs against your temple. 

You feel a little braver now or perhaps, needier, because you wrap your legs around his waist. Fix yourselves together like you were always meant to be, let him feel you, bare and warm and sticky, through the last bit of his clothes. 

He moans, a little shamelessly, and presses his hips into yours even more. 

And since he’s been so desperate for your desires, you murmur, “want you–I want you.” 

You can feel his chest heave a little with it, the weight, the sound of your voice against his ear. 

“How do you want me?” He murmurs back, though, as if to make it worse. “How did you think of this night?” 

In truth, you’ve always known it. So you know, when you twine your arms around his neck and hitch your legs a little higher on his waist, it will be just like this. 

Belly up and vulnerable, pliant on your back for him, for once in all your life. 

“Like this,” you murmur, pulling him in tighter, little vice grip that you’ve got, “just like this.” 

“Okay,” he breathes, maybe at the desperation in your voice, the sort of raw honesty that could break him apart, break him open. “Okay.” He says again, as if he could ever truly deny you. 

There’s some fumbling then, to get the rest of his clothes off, to reveal milky skin and the corded muscles of his thighs, his–

Your hands, uncertain, but desperate to please him, wrap delicately around his cock. 

He shudders a little, surprised, but hips push into your hand eagerly. 

He’s longer than you expected, but smooth in your palm, hot to the touch. 

“Getting brave?” He asks but you kiss at his jaw, his throat. 

“I want you to–” you unstick the words from your mouth, syrupy, and earnest, “I want you to feel good, too.” 

He makes a strangled noise, lets his head drop against your shoulder. 

“Listen,” he murmurs, “I’m not–” he laughs a little, trembling when you squeeze around him, when you fumble and stroke him. “I’m not going to last long.” 

And this time, you laugh, and it shakes some of  your fear off of you, opens you even further to him somehow. 

“That’s okay,” you sigh, wiggling your hips, suddenly eager to know he wants you this badly. You guide him until he’s found the heat of you, slippery and soft. “We have all night.” 

You can taste his smile, taste the groan, and can imagine the way his brows pinch together in pleasure. 

“We have our whole lives.” You tell him when he pulls away from the kiss.

“I have so much I want to do with you,” he says and though it makes you flush deeply, it also feels as if he’s saying–in life, I have so much I want to do with you. 

I have so much of you, and so much of life, and I want them both. I want it all. 

He takes himself in hand, lets your own hands fall away, slips himself, back and forth, between your legs. His face slackens a little, blissed out, and a higher noise gets pulled from him. 

“I’m really not gonna last long, angel.” He says again even as you let your head fall back, laughing, and his lips immediately follow to your throat. 

You buck your hips a little and the head of him catches and it makes you both freeze. 

You seize up. 

“Satoru–” you get out, nervous again, seeking, but this time he doesn’t deny you. 

“I know,” he hushes, “I know–you’re so tight. Just breathe.” 

You suck in a sharp breath as you feel his hips flex, feel the way you part around the tip of him, muscles so foreign, now being stretched, fitting snug around the shape of him. 

Your walls flutter.

“Relax,” he breathes, and it’s almost a hiss against your lips, and you don’t think it’s for you this time, but for himself. 

You try to breathe, though, in through your nose, try to loosen your legs a little around him enough to let himself press a little deeper. A hiccuped breath. 

Satoru kisses you hard, perhaps as a distraction, as you squeeze around him. As you feel the real burn and stretch of him, feel the way it carves inside of you and–

Tears prick your eyes. You don’t know how anyone does this easily or without someone like Satoru to you. Someone to call your own, who calls you his. Always has. 

He presses all the way into the hilt of him and you swear you can feel him in your stomach, feel your muscles clench and throb around him in painful little squeezes. He pulls away from your lips to let you breathe, to let his forehead drop to yours, his hair tickling against your cheeks. 

You whimper and he immediately coos at the sound, instinctive, as he’s done his whole life for you. You realize, perhaps dumbly, that this position is a familiar one in the sense that you bury yourself in the crooks of his body, cling to him like a child, and cry. And he has always soothed you. 

And right now seems, in many ways, no different. 

“Wrap your arms around me,” he murmurs and you wind yourself around his neck, wind yourself tight so that he might never untangle you. So that you might choke him.

And then he lifts you, sits back, and settles you gingerly in his lap. 

You’re stretched wide over him, holding yourself up desperately, and he’s aiding, hands at your waist. 

But then, gently, he lets you slip down. 

You hiss, but then find the back of your legs kissing his thighs, sitting snug.

“There,” he conjoles, letting you sit with him deep, deep inside you. Still. He kisses at your tear-stained cheeks, wet and soft, “that’s it. Just sit still for a moment.” 

You feel his tongue against your jaw, your throat, the flint strike of his teeth, of pain. You whimper into his shoulder and he continues to hush you, calm you, pull you closer so that he can run a broad hand over your sides, over your back. 

He pets through your hair, carefully, pushing it from your face to see your tears. The way you sniffle. He forces you to peer down your nose at him, lashes fluttering. 

You nuzzle into his cheek now, scattering wet, little kisses along his skin. He hums and you feel him twitch inside of you, feel the way his hands flex on your waist. 

“So sweet now, aren’t you? Usually so mean, suddenly so good for me.” He says against your jaw, “just falls apart in my arms, don’t you?” 

“Stop,” you mutter, pushing your face back into his neck to hide. 

“You just melt with my cock inside of you, huh? Is that it?” His voice goes soft and low and–

This time, you bury your nails in his shoulders. “Satoru!” 

But he can feel you flutter around him and he can feel the way your breath catches against his throat. 

“Why don’t you try moving, angel?” He coaxes, “just like earlier.” 

You shake your head, if only to spite him, so he begins to kiss you again. Hands dipping over your skin, moving up to your chest once more where he cups and squeezes. You can feel him again, deep inside you, throbbing. So desperate himself, held back by his own control. 

And then his mouth is again dipping down, to the peak of your breast, and he groans when he latches onto your nipple again. 

If you were braver, you’d have half a mind to comment on how he needs to keep his mouth busy. 

But for now, it only makes you loosen up finally, warmth a slow roll in the depths of you. 

You can feel yourself, dripping over him, rooted so deeply inside of you. It’s horrible but it’s–

It feels good, you tell yourself again, it feels good. 

Through the haze of the initial pain, there is pleasure that blooms. 

Your hips rock towards his, keeping him buried to the hilt, but you watch as his lashes flutter against your skin, cheeks hollowing with a suck that makes you keen and it’s–

It’s like lightning. 

You move again, squirm in his lap, until he pulls off your chest with a ragged groan, disheveled and half out of his mind. His hands help your hips, guide you slow, up and down over him until you’re dropping them all on your own. 

And he’s half mad with it, letting his head fall back, letting his hands grab and squeeze greedily. Greedy. 

Gods are greedy. And they will devour you.

You moan, clutching at his hair, his shoulders, feeling yourself become something else entirely–someone else entirely.

New being, new creature born out of something more than your pain, and the guilt, and the violence. New god, with the roll of your hips, and the way you feel him in the depths of you, all around you.

Satoru suddenly pushes you back again, so you’re belly up once more, finally sets his own pace and it’s a little more desperate. Teeth sink hard into your neck, capture you, make a high noise come out of you that you haven’t quite heard before. 

He grabs at you, pulls your hips up, hits somewhere deeper that makes you yelp. It makes tears well again and he can’t help himself anymore, hips beginning to stutter, lose their rhythm.

When you tip your head back, he suddenly grabs your face, bringing you back to face him. 

“Say it for more,” he gets out, voice wrecked and cracking at the end and–

Of course you know. 

“You will always have me,” you tell him, against his lips, spit slick and the whine caught in his throat. 

“You will always have me,” he promises.

You sink your nails into his shoulder as if to emphasize your next words, feel him keen now, “I will always have you.” 

And he gives you a harder thrust, as if to retaliate, just to feel you whimper, just to feel you cling to him. Settles himself deep inside of you, almost cruelly, as he gets out, his voice darker than you’ve ever heard it before;

“I will always have you.” 

Your cry is almost strangled, a hiccup of it, as you pulse and shatter around him like you were always meant to. 

He can’t help himself then, can’t help the bitten off groan that’s turned half into a whine, or the way he keeps himself buried, snuggly inside of you, as he fills you with warmth. 

It’s more soothing than you thought it’d be, the feeling of him like this. 

He leans heavier into you, mouths at your chest again, gentler now, more content. 

And he tips his head up, so you can see the catch of his starlight eyes, and he murmurs, “I love you. More than you’ll ever understand, I think. In a way I can’t even properly express.” 

But you sift your hands through his hair and look down at the man you’ve known all your life and think, I changed all of time for you. 

You smile softly, watery, and he leans up to clear your tears away again. And again. Like he always has. 

I did everything for you, you think.

Then you say, gently, and you think your voice has a newer quality to it, more honeyed–it almost sounds familiar to your own ears;

“I think I understand more than you’d know.” 

 And he laughs a little, but it’s off kilter all over again, and he’s kissing you and you swear you’ll let him devour you in every way he likes, for the rest of your life. 

You realize it isn’t so bad– to be devoured by a God. 

***

Your life has transformed before your eyes. 

At once, it was an endless cycle of your childhood home; your father’s violence and your mother’s scurrying and you, somewhere between them. You, some horrible form of both. 

But now you live with Satoru and Megumi and Tsumiki. And Ieri visits and Nanami pretends he doesn’t want to visit, but does, and Utahime brings flowers. 

Satoru and her become teachers together. 

And you walk Megumi and Tsumiki to school and walk them back home, too. You watch the sun in the sky and you think about trying to preserve this time forever. You think about trying to get the sun to stop. Or to swallow it whole. 

You fall into bed with Satoru, (in countless ways, over and over, like you’ve discovered a new world together, another part of yourself, of him, that yawns open inside of you), and miss him tremendously when he’s away. 

Megumi, as if he knows, always seems to ask for movie nights when Satoru’s gone, or perhaps he just misses him, too. You think Megumi struggles more than Tsumiki or Tsumiki is better at hiding it. You can only imagine, with what they’ve been through, how they’re doing. Their life has been unstable, uprooted, and now they finally have a home. A place that they will reside for longer than a few weeks, a few months, a few years. You know it might be hard, though, and you know they’ll struggle. You and Satoru watch them closely, perhaps too closely. 

“How do you think they’re doing?” You ask Satoru one night after putting them in bed, as you begin to strip your clothes of the day. Immediately, you feel Satoru’s hands sliding along your stomach, eagerly pulling you pack into his chest. He’s warm, his hands, his body. 

“I think Tsumiki is doing alright. Megumi is…” He trails off but you understand, “I don’t think he’s doing as well.” 

“He struggles with change.” You respond, “but I think it will be good for him, to finally have a stable home.” 

Satoru looks at you for a moment in his arms, against his chest, his eyes softened, before he says, “I never thanked you, you know.” 

“For what?” You ask, turning your face to find his eyes. 

“For taking them in, without a second thought.” 

“I’ve always known them, Satoru.” You tell him, “I’ve always known that we’d–”

He nods like he knows, but he still says, “it’s a lot to ask of you.” 

“It’s not a lot to ask to love them.” You tell him, “it’s hard not to.” 

“I know,” he agrees and he swallows around something. And then he asks, “you wouldn’t let anything happen to them, would you?” 

You tilt your head and hear the real question in his words, the way he trembles with it. 

“Never.” You agree. 

“Even over me?” He insists, “I want you to pick them–over me.” 

You think Satoru has always known more than he tends to let on. 

You swallow hard. You don’t even want to think of it, don’t want to think about–

“I won’t have to.” You tell him softly, shaking your head as if to clear your mind of the memory, the version of this life where you have to pick. But you’ve been so careful and you’ve played it all so well, so perfectly that there’s no way now. Is there?

You have the urge to suddenly reach for your necklace, swing the pendant in front of your gaze and tear through time, just to be sure. 

“Say you did,” he murmurs, “I want you to–I want you to say you’d pick them.”

“Okay,” you say, if only to get him to leave it, let it drop from you. You want to forget. You want to shake your head, harder, until it all rattles out of you.

“No,” Satoru says softly, holding you to him before you can dart away, “I need to hear you say it.” 

Something inside of you squirms. 

You glance upwards to find the mirror hanging across the room as decoration, catch the way he’s holding you, the look in his eyes. His reflection looks strange to you now, towering, darker than ever before. 

He fastens himself tighter to you, “I know that you’ve put me before everyone until now.” He says softly, “that between me or Suguru, it would always be me. If it came down to it, I think you would let everyone burn, so long as it saved me. I know it’s–” 

He stops himself. 

And then he says, “but it can’t be for them. Do you understand?”

You can feel tears welling in your eyes. 

“So just say it for me now,” he soothes, “promise me, you’ll put them first.” 

You feel as if two intrinsic things inside of you stretch and pull, struggle with one another. The urge to do as he asks, or the urge to finally, after everything, put others before him, when there’d been no one else. 

Both feel counterintuitive. Confusing. Your head begins to throb and if you didn’t know better, you’d think–it almost tastes like cursed energy, the air tangy with it, sharp. 

Satoru turns you towards him and he takes your chin in between his fingers delicately and forces you to look up at him. “Promise me,” he murmurs. 

You swallow around the hard lump forming in your throat. You don’t know why you’re crying. It’s not as if–

It’s not as if you don’t love Megumi or Tsumiki. 

It’s just–you’ve only ever known Satoru, in the deepest, most ruthless, most tender parts of you. 

“I promise,” you whisper, “I promise to put Megumi and Tsumiki before you.” 

“No matter what–” He urges. And even though it burns and aches, sticks like thorns in your throat, Satoru Gojo makes you give him your second binding vow;

“No matter what.” You choke out, “no matter what.” 

***

The day your mother dies, you spend the morning holding Tsumiki. She’d had a nightmare. She said she used to always sleep with her mother when she had this dream and now she is in your bed. And you are holding her the way your mother used to hold you when you had visions. 

Satoru has gone away on a mission. Your bed had been empty until she’d filled it. 

You try not to cry or let her know you’re crying, but you lay in bed with her beside you and you think of your own mother. 

And this was–the fixed point. The one you could never fix. In countless versions, you tried to stop this day, and in all, you failed.

You wonder then, if there are moments that are so certain, no one can touch. Not you, not fate, not a thing. 

You think the inception of you created her death, in the way that you are forcing it to create your father’s. 

If there is anyone truly damned, you think it must be your mother. 

You wonder if Tsumiki will think the same of you one day. If Megumi will look at you and realize, at some point, you were never going to be anything other than damned. 

After you walk the kids to school, you return to your childhood home. 

You stand outside its doors and know what will meet you beyond them. For a moment, you feel like screaming, screaming bloody and howling, wailing in the streets, crying out to the heavens. You think about what is on the other side of that door and you wish you’d never seen it all. Out of all the lives you’d peered into, you wish your mother was not one of them. You wish you had no idea what will meet you or what you will do.

You think of Suguru suddenly, if he stood outside his parents door and knew, too, that he brought death. That the creation of him, brought the death of them. 

You suddenly miss him so sharply and keenly that you want to run to him. You wonder if he would open his arms to you now, or if it’s all over, so torn to shreds that there is not anything he could want from you anymore. Perhaps not anything but your divinity. 

You stand outside their door like a reaper. 

You know you have to enter. And that time will not stop, you can never force it still. 

You inhale. 

You push open doors that have never felt heavier. 

The bloody tilt of your mother’s head makes you feel like a child again, terrified all over, and sick to your stomach. She is still alive now, gasping, and shaking. 

When she finds your eyes, she is almost relieved to see you, like you were the only and last thing she could’ve ever wanted to see. 

You feel something inside of you, already splitting, come away from its seams. 

“Mom,” you say, like you’re a child again, crawling to her on bloody floors. 

Still, she reaches her hand out to touch your cheek, as if she may comfort you. Even during death, she tries to comfort you. You choke hard on the sob working its way out of you. 

“You s-shouldn’t be here,” she whispers, mouth cut open with blood. “You need to–” 

She’s trying to save you from your father. 

But you couldn’t leave her like this, couldn’t leave her to die alone. 

You shake your head, cupping her palm to your face, keeping it there, “it’s okay, mom. I’ll be okay.” 

And I want you to be okay, you want to say, I want you to live longer. I want to have you for longer. You feel the tears rush hard and hot down your face.

At least you had longer than Tsumiki or Megumi. At least you had her this long. 

But for all your power, for everything that could’ve happened, you just couldn’t. Save. Her. 

You’ve known from the first moment you opened a gold bled eye. 

“I love you,” your mother gets out, as clearly as she can, as if she needs you to know, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, squeezing tighter to her hand. 

You can hear your father’s footsteps, somewhere down the hall. As if you’ve heard them a thousand times and for this final time. 

“You are the best thing i-in my life. Always.” Her voice is hoarse, it looks like it hurts her, to get the words out, but for you, always for you, she does, “always.” 

Your mind burns and blurs and there are a thousand things you wish you could say to her now. A life that you wish you could unwind and reverse, a life you wish you could’ve saved, a child you wish you could’ve been. 

Your father opens the door to the living room for the final time.

And when he sees you, it’s as if he knows now, too, that it is the time. 

He doesn’t tell you he loves you, when you kill him, he doesn’t say a word, when you are covered in his blood, too. 

(You gut him, the way Zeus did to Kronos, and crawl back to your mother, bloodied.)

And all you can think to do is press up against her, like you are a child again in the home you grew up in. To be held by her for the last time of your entire life. 

You don’t know how long you stay like that, only that at some point, the sun is setting, and smolders bronze, casts all the world in a fiery glow. 

And eventually, your husband lifts you, bloody and silent, from your mother’s arms, to carry you out of that house for the final time.

You watch, quiet as the dead, in his arms, as it slowly rises to flames. 

(When the higher ups of the sorcery world investigate, they will say your father killed your mother, and then himself, by burning the place down. They will say he couldn’t handle your disgrace, that he was never well, anyways. He was a haunted man.)

And the garden you grew up in burns and the house you called a home cracks beneath hungry flame. Your father’s body burns away and releases you and your mother’s body falling to ash makes you want to tear out your own heart. 

It all burns and you watch, silent, knowing that your mother or father will never turn to curses now, they will never haunt you or hunt you again, knowing that you are the last curse left of that house. 

And it will be a long, long time until you are burned with them, too. No, now you are born anew, born again, covered once more in your mother's blood. You do not scream this time. The fire burns hot and bright in your vision.

Gods are very lonely, you think again, and you watch your childhood go up in flames.

***

Masterlist | <- Chapter Two: Anything, Everything | Satoru's Interlude: Bigger God ->

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #cw dark content #cielo writes #cielo's writing #godmaker

[inkeddownc0ffee]

One sided love or is the other side just blinded?… Part 3

——— Part 1 ——— Part 2 ——— Part 3 ———

Pairing: Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson is the readers best friend, but Eddie is finding himself catching feelings for his girl best friend, and can’t help himself but feel jealous when he sees his crush falling for Steve “the hair” Harrington

Warnings: Heartbreak, Crying, Cursing, Mentions of Smoking, Make-out (SMUT), Nipple sucking, Oral (Fem receiving), Daddy kink, P n V smut, Blow job

You quickly rushed to your car, shoving your key into your door handle and shoving the door open, plopping down into your seat.

You stared at your steering wheel for a second, whipping away your tears sense they were clouding your vision and turning the car on.

Lucky for you, the trailer park wasn’t far from your house about 10 miles, only 10 minutes of your thoughts being tied around Steve. Did you ruin y’all’s friendship? What will it be like going back to work tomorrow? Is it just gonna be awkward between you two forever?!

You were already trembling by time the trailer parks sign came to view. You turned into the entrance, immediately being met with the bumpy rock road sense the trailer park couldn’t exactly afford highway like road.

You drove all the way to Eddie trailer, parking beside his van, Waynes truck not being there sense he’s working nights. The lights were on inside the trailer, showing Eddie was still up as you walked to the door.

After taking a deep breath you knocked on the door.

“One second!” You heard Eddie yell, about 15 seconds later he opened the door, looking down at you.

“woah, what happened to you” Eddie asked with great concern. Your eyes immediately began to water at just the thought of why you looked as fucked up as you did right now. Eddie’s eyes softened before grabbing you and pulling you in to a warm embrace.

“shhh princess, whatever happened I promise it’ll get better” Eddie whispered in your ear as he rubbed soft circles in your back.

“I-I fucked up” you said, your voice quivering from your tears and the cold temperature of Hawkins. Eddie let out a small sighed and gave a soft smile.

“let’s get you warmed up” you sniffles and nodded as Eddie closed the door behind you and led your to his bedroom. He then gently placed you to the bed, handing you the blanket you always used when you came over to spend the night to even just hang out.

Eddie then opened his mini fridge, taking out a small glass bottle of cola, placing it in your shaking hands. You whispered a thank you under your breath as you began to take small sips of the fizzy beverage.

Eddie sat beside you, placing his hand on your shoulder and rubbing it in slow motion, his eyes darting to your shaking figure.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked in a quiet tone. You looked down for a second then slowly brought your sight to his eyes before giving a small nod, and slowly setting down the cola on his nightstand. Eddie looked in your eyes as he watched you maintain yourself to even speak.

“I-i, I really liked Steve, and I finally asked him if we s-shared the same feelings for each other a-and he told me how h-he only loved N-Nancy” You held your head as you choked on a sob.

“A-and I think I ruined it between me and him as e-even friends” Eddie’s heart dropped, he knows that Steve wouldn’t break your heart on purpose, well not anymore, the past was the past, but it still angered him deep inside, how could he not love a beautiful, sweet girl like you?

Eddie began to rub small circles into your back, not knowing exactly what to say, but luckily helping you ease down your sobs.

That’s when it all hit you.

Eddie, Eddie was the answer, Eddie was the guy who cared for you, the guy who made you laugh and smile, the guy you felt comfortable around, the person who you truly loved. We’re you that blind to not notice who your true love was all along?

Your hand then rested on your pocket, feeling the soft fur of the small bear. You slowly pulled out the bear and sat it in Eddie’s lap, making him look down in confusion.

“What’s this-“

“Steve told me to give this to the person I truly loved, the person who was right for me” You cut him off, looking up at him. Eddie’s face become flush as he stared down at you.

“I love you Eddie” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear even though y’all were the only ones there.

Eddie stared down at your lips, his thoughts going at a thousand miles an hour before he started to lean in slowly, you immediately leaning in with him and having the softest, sweetest kiss either of y’all have ever experienced.

Y’all slowly pulled away, Eddie’s hand slowly reaching to your face, rubbing your cheek lovingly.

“I love you too Y/n, so much, you have no clue how long I’ve waited to do that” he said softly, making you smile and pull him in for another kiss.

The kiss started to become into a make out, Eddie feeling risky and sucking on your bottom lip, asking for entrance to your mouth, which you gladly opened up. Eddie’s tongue explored your mouth, chuckling to himself as he slowly pulled away, a line of spit connecting y’all’s tongues.

“Mmh I can taste that sweet cola on ya” he smirked, making you blush.

“You kinda taste like.. a cigarette?” You giggled, raising an eyebrow. Eddie rolled his eyes, letting out a low chuckle.

“Give me a break, it’s kinda hard to see your crush, crushing on Steve the hair Harrington, I felt like I had no chance, I deserved that smoke” he replied jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever” You quickly grabbed him again, continuing your kiss. He let out a deep groan, a rush of despite entering his veins. His hands begin traveling down to your hips, helping you slide onto his lap. You moaned into his mouth, making him smirk in the kiss.

His hands started to explore up your body, using his thumb and pointer on both hands to pull at the bottom of your shirt. You pulled away from his lips, giving a silent response which was enough for Eddie to pull off your shirt off.

His eyes stared at your cleavage that was covered by the silky fabric of your bra, a small bow being right in the middle.

“I’m in heaven..” Eddie muttered under his breath. You looked down, your face flushing from his praise. He has seen you in a bra before, but this time was different.

He just knew this time, this time he’ll finally get to claim what’s his.

Your hands quickly yanked off Eddie’s shirt, your hands roaming down his toned chest. Eddie snickered.

“Impatient aren’t we princess?” He whispered in your ear, making a shiver go down your spine. He smirked and gave a small love bite on your ear lobe, before heading back to your lips.

Right when he went to get back to the kiss he heard a quiet noise of a clip, making him look down to see your bra resting in your lap. His eyes widen as he slowly looked up, your breasts being on full display in front of him.

You bit your lip as you looked down at his gaze.

“Like them?”

“Like them? Nowhere near baby, I fucking love them” He quickly went back to your lips, his palms resting on your soft breasts. Your nipples began to harden at the sudden cold air that flew into the atmosphere. Eddie’s fingers grazed over your nipples, making him part just an inch from your lips.

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll warm them up for you” He whispered before placing his attention on your breasts, his lips wrapping around one of your little nubs. Your mouth dropped , a small moan leaving your now puffy lips.

He hummed into your breast, his tongue going up and down on the nipple, one of his hand kneading the breast he’s on and the other doing small pinches and twists on your other nip.

Your arms wrapped around his back, hands gripping onto him. He smirked to himself as he pulled away from your breast, looking up at you.

Your mouth was agape, small little breaths leaving your lips. You’ve never been touched like this, just the slightest touches from the long haired male made you melt for him.

His mouth then latched onto your other nipple, his thumb rubbing circles on your other wet nub. You shut your eyes tightly, small whimpers and moans leaving your mouth.

Eddie’s mouth left your nub, his hands tracing the curves of your breasts before slowly trailing kisses up them, some leaving hickeys and others just being soft butterfly kisses. His lips trailed up to your ear.

“My beautiful princess; are you wet for me?” He whispered into your ear. You let out a small whine as a yes, your thighs rubbing together to create friction from the amount of need your little lips wanted.

Eddie bit his lip as he looked down, leaning back up.

“Can daddy see how wet you are for me princess?”

You let out a small gasp, it’s like Eddie knew you had a daddy kink. Eddie chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a yes” He then carefully got off the bed, getting on his knees in front of you. You pushed at the hem of your shorts, soon being met with Eddie’s fingers pulling them down, leaving you in your soft pastel purple panties, a small little bow being on its band, matching your bra.

Eddie cooed.

“Aww, your just keep getting cuter, don’t cha princess” He smiles up at you, your face reddening. Eddie’s gazed then traveled down, as he finally noticed the little wet spot that has formed on the soft fabric.

“Look at how wet I’ve made you princess”

He kissed the small wet spot.

“You’re just so god damn adorable” he muttered. He then looked back up at you, before sliding the clothing down your plush thighs. You whined a bit, feeling exposed.

Eddie kissed your tummy as he rubbed your thigh

“shhh baby girl, it’s ok, it’s just me” He reassured you, making you smile a bit at him. He smiled back, his eyes landing on your little lips.

“Your perfect baby, my perfect little princess” Your body calmed, breathing calming as well. Eddie’s finger did a small swipe down your little puss, having you let out a little gasp as a trail of your juices connected his finger and your lips.

“Oh so wet for me, can daddy have a taste?” You gave him a small nod as a response. Eddie’s tongue then darted from his lips, swiping small licks on you, him humming into you, a baby whimper leaving you.

His lips then wrapped around your little clit, sucking it softly. Moans repeatedly lifted off your tongue as your bundle of nerves felt crazy amounts of pleasure from his mouth.

“D-daddy” You whined, making Eddie groan into your cunt, his manhood starting to get uncomfortable in its cage of fabric in his jeans.

One of his hand then left your thigh, inserting two fingers in your small little hole. A loud moan than escaped your lips, legs wrapping around his head and bucking your hips into his face. Eddie chuckled as he continued, doing soft thrusts into you with his long fingers. Making sure to curl at certain spots to find that spot.

Your hand then landed on his head, softly tugging at his hair making him groan and suck on your little clit harder. Moans came out of you, left and right, getting louder and louder as his fingers got close to your g spot.

Your nerves went wild when Eddie finally found it.

“Yes!!! Oh yes daddy!” You moaned. Eddie’s focus then went to that spot, hitting it directly over and over, making sure to keep the same type of pressure on your clit. Your orgasm soon started to approach fast.

Your moans got louder, each approaching second than it finally hit, your orgasm going straight into Eddie’s mouth, him making pleased sounds. Your thighs soon began to shake as Eddie helped you ride your high.

Eddie then lapped up your leftover juices, making your body shake every lick from overstimulation as he hungrily embraced the sweet taste of you. His mouth finally left your poor puss, his face covered in your silk.

“Mmh you taste so good princess, I could devour you whole” he growled softly, slowly rising from his knees. His hands cupped your cheeks, kissing your softly, your sweet taste going in your mouth, making you whimper into his lips.

“Do you want daddy’s cock princess?” You immediately nodded.

“P-please fill me Eddie” you begged, eyes filled of a mix of love and lust as you stared at him. He smiled down at you, walking over to the nightstand. A small little plate that your painted for him held his keys, some of his rings, extra guitar picks, loose change and one purple wrapped condom.

He waved the little package in the air at you, giving a teasing smirk before walking back in front of you. His hands than went to fumble with his belt before looking down at your staring gaze.

“Do you want to put it on me princess?” He smirked.

“Mhm” your hands went to his belt, unbuckling his belt, setting it to his feet. His bulge began to grow as you zipped down the zipper, the clothed boner popping out. Your face flushed, head looking up at Eddie who was already staring down at you.

“Don’t be shy baby girl, go ahead” he rubbed your hand. You gulped as you looks back down at it, carefully pulling down his boxers, his member springing out. Your mouth gapped as you stared at the beautiful pink tip.

Eddie placed the packaged condom in your little hand, letting you rip it open and go back to staring at the prize in front of you.

You carefully placed a small peck on his tip, making him sigh lovingly, he’s dreamed of this. You then slipped the condom on him, the lubricant from the rubber letting it slide on with ease.

“Thank you princess, now, get comfortable baby” he said as he carefully laid you down on the bed, making sure to plop a pillow under your head.

“You comfy baby?” He asked looking down to make sure as you smiled and nodded. Eddie smiled back, carefully climbing on top of you, his pick necklace hanging above you.

“Hm don’t want that to get in the way” Eddie said as he took it off his neck, carefully placing it on yours, kissing the pick that sat on your breasts. You smiled looking up at him.

Eddie leaned down, kissing you and going down your neck, leaving a sweet kiss on your hickeys.

“You ready for me baby girl?” He whispered in your ear. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second before opening them.

“Yeah, yeah I’m ready” you mumbled, letting Eddie kiss your lips before lining his tip to your entrance, coating it in your silk.

“Look at that princess, so wet for daddy we don’t even need lube.” He chuckled. Eddie stuck two fingers between your lips, spreading your silk over his covered manhood as lube.

“Take deep breaths baby, this is going to hurt for a minute” he rubbed your hand. You whines for a second before doing as fold.

“Deep breaths, such a good girl” he started to insert himself, grunting a bit at how tight your walls hugged his cock. A painful stretch hit you immediately, starting to letting out a whine of discomfort.

“Shhh, I know it hurts baby, keep taking deep breaths” he kisses you deeply, inserting half of himself. You cried into his mouth, gripping onto his back, scratching it with your nails. Eddie slowly leaned away from your lips, using his hand to wipe your tears.

“Tell me when I can move, we can stay like this as long as your want” he assured you, resting his head by your shoulder, leaving soft kisses on your neck to help you calm down as you held back sobs.

Soon you started to feel the pain sink into pleasure, your whimpers turning into soft moans.

Eddie smiled, looking up at you.

“Starting to feel good baby?” You moaned out a yes, bucking your hips, making his cock go deeper inside of you. He growled out, shutting his eyes.

“Fuck baby, so t-tight” he whined. You wrapped your arms around him, whining with him.

“P-please, please fuck me” you begged, your pleasing eyes looking up at him. His breath hitched in his throat, the sight bellow him making his cock ache.

Your whole body was on display, your beautiful eyes gazing up at him, your luscious lips being swollen from so much kissing and your breasts being decorated with hickeys.

It was perfect.

He finally thrusted into you whole, every inch of his cock deepening itself in you. A small moan left your lips, pleasure mixed with bits of pain filled your little sex organ.

He then took himself out completely, making you whine at the emptiness. He chuckled a bit before ramming himself right back into you.

A loud moan escaped your lips, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Eddie leaned himself onto you, placing your legs over on his shoulders, small grunts leaving his lips.

“F-fuck baby, your pussy, oh it feels amazing” His voice cracked as he started to thrust, letting out a loud groan as he shut his eyes in a pure bliss.

You whimpered and moaned as he slammed his hips into you, not being too hard just perfect.

The lube on the condom and the wetness of your cunt made it so easy for him to slide in and out.

Your eyes slowly darted to Eddie, his mouth was slightly opened, his hair falling all in his face but with his eyes glued to you, half lidded. A bubble started to form inside your tummy.

“E-Eddie” you whined.

“Yes princess?” He muttered.

“I-I think I’m close” you gasped out as you shut your eye’s tightly, him hitting the best spot in you. His head rolled back as your walls tighten around his member.

“Cum with me baby” he grabbed your hips, repeatedly hitting your spit as he gained pace. Your moans became more often, pleasure being unimaginable.

“Eddie!!” You yelled out, the bubble in you busting. You gasped as you cum undone, walls closing in on Eddie where he could barely move, triggering his climax with yours.

Your legs began to shake. Eddie slowly thrusted you out your orgasm, small squelch’s leaving your pussy.

He than slowly left your pussy, the condom dripping with your sweet juices.

He slowly started to chuckle.

“I’ve waited years to do that” You smiled up at him weakly. Eddie looked down at you, carefully slipping off the condom and placing it in the bin. He than climbed into the bed, grabbing you and pulling you towards him.

“You did amazing for me sweetheart, I loved every moment” He muttered as he leaned in and kissed your lips.

You smiled, placing your head into his neck. Eddie smiled as he grabbed a blanket, pulling it over you two. You sighed lovingly, slowly beginning to suck on his neck. Eddie gasped a little.

“God princess, are you trying to make me hard again?”

“Gonna repay the favor” you giggled, slowly going under the blanket. He smirked, pulling up the blanket as you crawled to his thighs.

You kissed his tip before carefully wrapping your wet lips around his tip, letting your saliva run down his shaft as lube to stroke him softly.

He moaned loudly, his head hitting the pillow as he gripped onto his head board.

“Fuckkk” he bit his lip.

“Just like that princess, just like that” he said breathless. Your tongue darted out, licking the base of his tip in one swipe, your hand working the rest of him.

A deep groan left him, his hair scattering around the pillow. You slowly laid down completely, using your other hand to massage his sack.

“Oh god princess!” His eyes widened, slowly leaning to watch as you did your magic.

“B-baby I’m gonna cum” he tried to pull you off, just making you suck harder. A loud gasp left him as his hot load filled your mouth, coating your throat. You pulled away, his semen leaking from your lips.

“You can spit it out-“ you swallowed it all, licking your lips after. His face went pure red, his mouth gaping.

“Fuck that was hot”

Let’s just say, the next day was glorious. Waking up next to Eddie in the morning, getting to wear his clothes for school and Eddie just bragging to everyone even though they all knew it was gonna happen and Steve smiling from afar knowing you were with someone you truly loved.

A/N: I FINALLY FINISHED THIS! Yes I know I’ve promised this to come out earlier but I’ve been through some hard times lately and had zero motivation. This is my first time writing smut like this, so please no judgement! If you want me to do a “season 2” to this please tell me! I hope y’all enjoy and have a wonderful morning/afternoon/night!

Tag List: @br66klynbaby , @amira0303 , @grotesquelysilent , @kimi-kat

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #smut #steve harrington #st4 #stranger things #stranger things 4 #female reader #reader insert