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messiahzzz · 5 months

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i have seen several posts around that addressed how discouraging gale from taking the crown of karsus is “keeping him from realizing his true potential.” that tara is merely upset at his choice, instead of being utterly devastated at the loss of her little love. that it’s not a bad ending per se because to get there he didn’t need to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls in the process. gale isn’t continuing the cycle of abuse either, he still appears to love tav and does come back for them to offer them ascension. he wants them to be equal, so it can’t possibly be an unhealthy dynamic, right?

but what of gale himself, his own convictions, values, and everything he holds dear? everything flawed and human that shaped him into the person he is?

player: are you saying you want to ascend? claim godhood?

gale: no, not like that. i don't want to join them. i want to better them. a god's powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart.

gale’s motivation for acquiring godhood is that he will able to aid mortals in a way no other god has ever done before. he won’t hide behind pretense nor require blind devotion of his followers. he will understand and be able to empathize. he wholeheartedly believes that he will be different - he will act.

gale: [..] the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind ao. so let us act ourselves.

gale believes that by becoming a god he will kill two birds with one stone: aid mortals and acquire enough power to quash any of his insecurities and enemies in the process. that by ridding himself of every perceived flaw he'll finally feel like he will have enough to offer - maybe, just maybe he'll even be content. his flaws are merely holding him back from becoming the best version of himself, and by ridding himself of everything fallible, he will be whole. maybe this is what all of his suffering has led up to. maybe the orb chose him. maybe the reason he had to endure all the pain, isolation, and excruciating loneliness was so that he could realize that he was meant for something even greater. after all, power feeds ambition. and what is more powerful than a god? his convictions were certainly naive, he possesses enough knowledge to know better. don't get me wrong, part of him definitely wants to spite mystra a lil. but his intentions at that time were mostly pure. a reflection of his self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy.

player: this is wrong, gale. that power will corrupt you, even if you can seize it.

gale: it won't, i swear to you. it's merely a tool - a means to an end.

once we meet gale at the party in his new godlike form, it is apparent that even with all the power at his fingertips, he has reached no greater knowledge about himself. his insecurities are still as present as before, he merely is less subtle in his compensation - repeatedly highlighting his grandeur and how dull life on faerun is compared to the wonders of elysium. it is also genuinely crushing to see how little he thinks of himself even now.

gale: i was nothing. a drifting dust mote of a wizard, abandoned by my goddess, my powers lost, my reputation destroyed. and look at me now. i'm their proof.

any perceived dismissal of his Greatness™ is met with immediate disdain.

gale: a bold decision to treat a divine being with such cold indifference.

nodecontext: aloof, annoyed you weren't impressed with him

gale: you mortals do love to live dangerously, don't you?

nodecontext: the slightest hint of a threat - you've probably made an enemy here today. or at least, you've lost a friend.

he is still desperate to impress. emphasizing what an honor it is that a new-born god chose to bless their little soiree with his presence. gaze upon all his divine glory! gale has now become the embodiment of everything he criticized about the gods. his original intentions and plans are discarded and long forgotten. he assuages his erstwhile companions by telling them to simply pray to him, in case they should ever require aid. if they're lucky and their ambition pleases him, he might even deliver.

player: what does the 'god of ambition' offer to his followers?

gale: i 'offer' them nothing. i inspire them to seize their destinies for themselves.

player: interesting, so you help mortals help themselves?

gale: precisely. though that isn't to say i'm averse to the odd bit of direct encouragement.

gale: [..] my aims are set a little higher than offering cursory blessings to just any half-decent spellcaster.

gale: regardless, ethical quandaries are more the remit of my mortal devotees. they do love to talk, and faerun is starting to listen.

aiding "any half-decent spellcaster" is unbefitting of his status. he isn't concerned with questions of ethics and morality either. deeming such matters beneath his divine capabilities.

once gale has ascended and established his domain, what remains of the gale we knew? what of his mortal heart?

minthara: your ambition is not cruel, but you fear that if you indulge it, you will lose yourself in the mysteries of the weave and unravel the world.

minthara: you are afraid of so many things, and it is that fear that keeps you true to yourself.

gale did lose himself and ultimately became one of his biggest fears. considering that his existence as a being of pure ambition leads him to constantly seek out greater heights, it isn't farfetched to believe that raphael's prediction will indeed come true.

player[astarion]: ambition? finally, a god i can get behind...

gale: i assure you, this is merely the prelude to a far grander vision. elysium's in for something of a shake-up.

all that remains of gale is a thin veneer of the person he used to be. what he presents is a hollow echo of the old gale. he does retain some of his mannerisms and quirks, but he is definitely a lot colder and more condescending. if his personality already changed that drastically after a duration of only 6 months, what will he inevitability turn into when he has eternity at his disposal?

essentially, you are aiding gale in the eradication of himself. eradicating everything about him that made him into the loveable, charismatic, awkward, kind, buoyant person he was. everything about him that he perceived as defective, flawed, and lesser-than. before, his hubris was merely an expression of his own discontentment and low self-worth, but now he is hubris incarnate. all of his worst qualities have been amplified.

gale: i am ambition incarnate. as indistinguishable from that most potent sensation as mystra herself is from the weave. and word is spreading.

nodecontext: palpable, almost unsettling excitement from him - hint of megalomania

he put his trust in tav, trusting their judgment and relying on them to nudge him in the right direction. after all, they had plenty of opportunities to show him that they are an ally worth following and confiding in. but in the end, the prospect of what he could be, the things he could give them, the enemies he could yet conquer, won over the desire to simply accept him and help him rebuild a life on solid ground. tav denied him the unconditional love he craves most out of their own selfish desires.

tara: you were looking out for him. i expected better of you.

as i've already mentioned, gale desires nothing more than to be seen, accepted, loved, and valued. having a partner who wholeheartedly supports and believes in him is enough to make him feel content. most importantly - he just wants to live. to enjoy life with everything it has to offer. his ambition can’t be quenched because he hungers still. believing that only by acquiring more power will he finally be enough and reach said acceptance.

we see in his good ending that his own contentment was even able to influence and (temporarily) sate the orb's ever-present hunger:

gale: [..] or perhaps the orb's hunger was fuelled by my own, and my contentment influences it in much the same way.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

it is devastating that he doesn't reach the same feeling of fulfillment if he chooses to pursue godhood, and is instead compelled to continuously surpass his own accomplishments. not being granted rest or reprieve.

gale: i achieved everything we hoped i would, and still i'm not good enough for you?

gale pursuing godhood isn't evidence that he "has been evil all along" or that he "just waited to be unleashed" either. we can't diminish tav's influence in this outcome, they are after all an extension of the player. able to steer every companion toward a path of redemption or to enable them in their worst traits. fandom has already established that by letting astarion ascend you are actively supporting him in becoming the very thing he despises most, putting your own ambitions and idea of what you want him to be above his healing, this is no different.

tara: the gale i knew wasn't like this. he recognised his mistakes. he was contrite. all he wanted to do was live.

tara: unfortunately, he fell into company that turned his gaze towards foolishness. yes, i mean you.

player: gale is his own man, tara.

tara: false. he was mine. though now he belongs only to his own pride.

yes, the epilogue cutscene is beautiful and there is something bittersweet and romantic about his love for tav being one of the few emotions that remained a constant throughout the past 6 months. he didn't need to come back for them, but he did cause he loves them still. no matter how warped his definition of love may be now. while it is abundantly clear that tav ranks lower on his priority list than they did before, his commitment remains.

gale fears isolation, hoping to never return to the time when he was hopeless and alone, stuck inside his tower. by heading in this direction he is once again creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

tara: [..] if i pretended you hadn't turned tail on every lesson you set out to learn, i'd have no right to call myself your friend.

morena may as well have already resigned herself to her son’s death. elminster partly blames himself. for his lapse in judgment, as well as being the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place. mourning the kind, bright-eyed boy who cried at the scorched roses in his neighbor's garden. tara won't be here anymore to care and look out for him either. he has lost his oldest and dearest friend, the one who witnessed his downfall from grace and never left his side. who believed him to be the finest mind AND the finest wizard she's ever had the pleasure to know. who was certain that he’d find a way out of any crisis no matter the circumstances. ...and if tav declines his offer to ascend with him? what does he have left?

gale: yes, i am rather radiant, aren't i?

tara: don't flatter yourself, gale. you've debased yourself in ways i could never have fathomed.

tara: goodbye gale, i hope the heavens are worth it.

gale’s godhood ending deals with the loss of humanity, the loss of oneself, and everything one holds dear. it is a devastating and bone-chilling narrative. it is a tragedy.

gale: i hope you don't think less of me. great ambition should not come at the expense of what you already hold dear. i see that now.

if gale could see himself, he would be horrified at the losses he deemed necessary to get here. he would be horrified at what he’s become.

#buckle in this is gonna be a long one!#even for my standards #to be clear this is by no means meant as a slight against specific users #just here to clarify that it is definitely one of the worst outcomes for gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 epilogue #bg3 epilogue spoilers #bg3 patch 5 #bg3 meta #god!gale #had this sitting in my drafts for days now but i am so sleep-deprived that i can't even tell if this is cohesive anymore (i apologize)

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sugusearrings · 6 months

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( ' safe & sound ' )

just close your eyes, the sun is going down you'll be alright no one can hurt you now come morning light you and i'll be safe and sound.

— summary: captain levi ackerman the strongest warrior alive is struggling to adjust after the war. but you (fem!reader) are there to remind him he deserves peace. — genre: fluff but tiny bit of angst. — playing: safe & sound by taylor swift — note(s): so aot just ended and i'm still in denial it's really over. my boy eren did nothing wrong but i understand, 80% is kind of a lot BUT HE WAS A CHILD WAR WEAPON. anyways, post war. SPOLIERS AHEAD JUST A FAIR WARNING OKAY. levi ackerman and reader have a slight age gape ( reader is 25 and levi is in his mid thirties). mentions of brief sex. mentions of scars and death. maybe some spelling errors i missed but i tried ~ levi may be grumpy and mean but he's a total softie to the reader. — word count: 2k

He inhaled sharply as his upper body sat up from his sleep. He could feel the cold sweat formed on his the side of his head rolling down. His chest rose up and down with each inhale he took. He ran his hand over his face. He glanced down at his hands. His two missing fingers always reminded him what happened almost five years ago now. The rumbling ending. Everyone is trying to rebuild a normal life. He never really knew what a normal life was. His life was all about fighting and survival and now it was over. What was Levi made for now?

He quickly reached over for his cane leaning against the nightstand.

Levi was determined not to be stuck to that damn chair, he did whatever exercise he could without putting too much on his body. There were some days he had to be wheeled around. But using the cane on the daily was happening often. He didn’t want to be helpless or dependent on anyone. He was never like that so why start now?

He made his way out of the bedroom and walked into the small hallway that normally took two minutes to pass but it felt entirely. He was on alert, adrenaline pumping through his veins already. How could he protect now? He felt so useless. Once the greatest warrior to this. At first it was hard accepting this new reality of his. All he wanted to do was sink more into the dark and isolate himself.

If he was gone, would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Those he loved and cared for were long gone leaving him alone. He never knew loneliness would become his true enemy.

He held his breath accepting his fate as he walked into the kitchen. His dull gray eye widen seeing you standing there already pouring some tea in one of his favorite cups. He nearly dropped his cane.

“Name…”

“Captain Levi?” You looked up at him a bit startled he was awake. He let out a heavy exhale.

“After all this time, you still callin’ me that?” He rolled his eye then shook his head. “Give me a break.” You giggled quietly with a light blush appearing on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, it’s just an old habit I guess.”

“What are you doing up?” He asked you completely ignoring what you said.

“I figured you would want some tea when you would wake up.” You replied walking over to grab another cup from the cabinet. Levi could feel his ears beginning to burn. He cleared his throat.

“You…know?” You turned around to see the flustered older man. You tilted your head slightly to the side and was baffled. He thought he could hide his nightmares from you. His nightmares of the past.

“Of course I do.”

Your warm smile still made his heart throb the same way it did when you two met.

He found you the most annoying thing ever. You were too optimistic for his liking and you were very emotional. You were immature and very impulsive. But he adored that about you. You weren’t scared to stand up for what you believe in, even against him. When he was your captain and you were just a cadet on his squad. You two saw things from different perspectives but he respected that. He wasn’t sure if he ever told you he did.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” He made his way over to the nearest chair at the table. He pulled it out so he could sit. You took the cup full of tea and walked over to place it in front of him.

“It’s okay, Levi. Your nightmares don’t always wake me,” you placed your hand over his, “I have my own too, y’know?” You gave him a gentle squeeze.

The guilt sunk deep in Levi’s chest. How could he not think about you having your own trauma for what you both went through. Losing people you love, being injured and almost close to death several times. You had many scars to prove it. Especially the one on your neck reaching to the top of your chest. It was easier to hide but doesn’t mean it wasn’t a constant reminder when you would change outfits, shower, even during intimate times.

“I’m a horrible husband aren’t I, name?” He sighed deeply, reaching to grab his cup the same way he always has. You smiled remembering the time you made fun of the way he held his glass to your other comrades. It was all laughter until Levi was behind you the whole time. When you turned around looking white as a ghost seeing Levi glaring down at you. You screamed loudly then he made you clean his office and room from top to bottom.

“A little bit.” You teased him playfully. You grinned when your husband glared at you. “I’m kidding, Levi. How are you a bad husband?”

“My wife has fucking nightmares next to me and here I am sleeping.” He snapped. You bit your bottom lip and lowered your eyes. “But I even breathe a certain way, she knows if there’s something wrong with me.” He went on becoming more aggravated with himself.

“You’re being hard on yourself again.”

“You’re not denying it.” He countered. You sighed deeply.

“Levi…I have nightmares, yes. But you help me just by being there next to me.” You gave him another squeeze. Before he could say some smart ass remark you cut him off. “You remind me of what’s happening now. I can’t forget the past...I can never forget. But waking up next you eases it and makes it better to deal with.” Levi remained silent.

He couldn’t believe someone like you could ever love someone like him. To this day he would be in disbelief. You were so warm and he was so cold. But here you are sharing a life with him.

“You make it sound so easy.” He mumbled lowly.

“I know when you have nightmares when you hold onto me tight.” You admitted. His eye widened looking over at you. You smiled shyly looking away. You were trying to hide the dark blush on your cheeks but he would always see it. You couldn’t hide it from him.

He could remember the first time he made you blush. It was the first time he saw you with your hair down. When he complemented you ( in his own way that didn’t sound too mean ), you blushed. His heart fluttered how perfect you looked with your cheeks flushed.

“You woke up because I wasn’t in bed this time…” You spoke snapping him out of his own thoughts.

“I thought in a marriage there was no such thing as secrets.” He joked dryly.

You laughed covering your mouth with your hand. He noticed some faint scars on your hand. He remembered that scar. He remembers all the scars on every inch of your body. He would kiss them gently some nights making your breathing hitch. He would kiss the scar on your neck the most. He felt that needed the most attention. The day he almost lost you for good.

You were fighting alongside him against Zeke for the first time.

That’s when Levi realizes his feelings for you.

He stood by your side whenever he can, waiting for you to recover. He would even read out loud to you. When you woke up a few days later, you asked him to re-read the sentence he just read because you couldn’t hear him.

What nearly broke him when he thought you drank the wine with the spinal fluid.

Thankfully you didn’t but he confessed his feelings for you the same night. Yes, it was inappropriate for a caption to be with his cadet but he didn’t care about his title or yours in that moment. Levi just needed you to know in case something happened. He was ready to hear your rejection but when you confessed your own feelings for him, he was relieved.

That’s when Zeke did the explosion, Levi had enough time to push you off the wagon leaving him to suffer the injuries alone. He doesn’t regret it. He’ll do it all over again.

“Is this how you pictured how things would be after?” You asked him gently. Levi closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them. His dull gray eyes staring into yours.

“Yes and no.”

“That’s not a fair answer, Captain Levi.”

“Name.”

“Sorry.” You held your hands up in defense. He sighed softly.

“Yes, I pictured this after the rumbling. Marrying you, having a normal life with you. Just being with you in peace. What I didn’t expect was to be like this.” He glanced down at his hand again that bandaged up from the fingers he lost from that explosion. “I wasn’t much of a looker then but god look at me now.” He let out a sad chuckle. You frowned, feeling your heart aching. Was he serious right now? You thought Levi was the most handsome man you ever met. You were drawn to his dark gray hues. During the day they would glisten.

“Levi, don’t think that. You’re still handsome to me and always will be.”

“Don’t feed me that shit, name.” Levi scoffed. His stubbornness was still the same as before. You sighed and rested your chin on your hand letting him ramble on his negativity. “Probably see me as a pity case.”

“If that’s so, why do we still make love four times a week?” You questioned. When you looked over to your husband who was silent but red in the face. You felt your lips curl up into a smirk. “Cat got your tongue, captain Levi? Oh I’m sorry, I forgot to mention how we fuck multiple times. All night if I don’t tap out.” You purred in a tone you knew was his weakness. Levi shifted a bit in his seat then brought his left hand to clear his throat.

“Shut it you brat.”

You simply smiled at your victory.

“I love you, Levi. I don’t know why you can’t accept that.”

“You deserve better.”

“So do you.” You replied back. Levi glared at you once again.

“How can you say that shit?”

“Because you’re saying it so why not?” You shrugged then got up to pour yourself that tea you swore it was cold by now. Levi’s eye scanned down to your body how it hid underneath his white shirt. When you would lift to reach something it exposed some of your bare flesh underneath. He held his breath for a moment.

“I just…hope this is what you want.” His voice spoke. You didn’t turn around. Your eyes glanced down at your cup you were holding. Your ring finger was empty but the silver band stood on your nightstand with your glass of water that was empty now. Levi would always bring you a glass of water before bed.

“I want to spend my life with you, Levi. We’re at peace now. You’re at peace. You deserved this. You risked your life so many times. Everyday it’s a struggle for you to live with what happened. But we can do it together, just trust me?”

You turned with glossy eyes staring back over to him. He used his strength to stand up on his own for a moment. Then he made his way over to you. Once he was close enough, he placed his hand on your cheek just studying your face.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings…I’m just scared to lose you.” He confessed not trying to make eye contact with you. You placed your hand on his cheek and stroked it with your thumb. You stroked over the scars left behind by the stitches on his face you did for him. “I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you.”

“I survived to live a life with you, Levi.”

You whispered then leaned forward to place your lips against his. His arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer to his body. His lips moved against yours passionately. He pushed his body against yours causing your lower back to press against the counter. You let out a shaky breath when he broke the kiss then started to kiss along your neck. His fingers trailed down to the buttons on your shirt. Just when you were going to close your eyes and enjoy his lips sucking on your skin you were interrupted.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

You both pulled away at the same time to see a groggy toddler with messy dark hair all over the place. He hugged his stuffed bear tightly with his other arm.

“Hi baby.” You greeted him softly making. Levi straighten your shirt making sure the buttons were still in tact.

“What are you doing up, hm?” Levi asked him. The toddler frowned with his gray eyes half open.

“I wanna sleep with you and mama.” He made grabby hands towards him. He shook his head.

“Sorry kid, you have to go sleep in your bed like a big boy.” Your son sniffed and his big gray eyes began to water. Of course you were a sucker but you didn’t expect for Levi to be the one who caved in. “Tsk. Fine. Just for tonight.” Levi grabbed his cane and began to walk back into your bedroom. The little boy’s eyes beamed, making you giggle quietly. You brought the two cups to the sink thinking you were in the clear.

“Clean those damn cups.” Levi’s voice echoed from the bedroom.

You sucked your teeth with an eye roll.

“I’ll clean them in the morning.” You entered the bedroom seeing Levi already in bed. He leaned over to bring his son into bed. He snuggled up against his father, sighing happily feeling his warmth. You went over to your side on the bed to lay next to your son.

Levi always spoke about not wanting children. You didn’t have a clear answer if you wanted them or not. Some days you did but bringing them in a world like this wasn’t fair either. But finding out you were pregnant on your wedding day was a surprise. It meant you were pregnant during the fight that stopped the rumbling.

It was a miracle the child growing inside of you survived. But he’s a fighter like his father.

Asher Levi Ackerman.

A fortunate blessing for you both.

You leaned against the headboard stroking Asher’s hair as his eyes began to close.

“He looks just like you.” You whispered to Levi as you moved some of Asher’s dark hair out of his face. He smiled a bit.

“You think so?”

“Everyone says it. He looks nothing like me.”

“But he acts like you. A brat.”

You reached over to shove him playfully. It made him chuckle.

“Sleep, name. We have a long day at the shop tomorrow.”

“Fuck me.” You mumbled under your breath with a groan.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Levi laid down and closed his eyes hearing you giggle quietly before drifting back to sleep. You laid down staring at your son and husband cuddling with one another. You could tell Levi’s nightmare was over for the night. You soon drifted into a deep slumber.

And yes, you did forget to wash the teacups in the sink

But Levi washed them before opening the tea shop for the day but he did remember to scold you about it.

#drabbles #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman fluff #aot x female reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan drabble #( sugusearrings writing * )

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reverieblondie · 7 months

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Rehearsing

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Spider-woman!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Smut and Fluff, Accidental Voyeurism, Masturbation, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Riding, Pining, Dumification, Overstimulation, Aftercare.

Summary: Miguel isn't good when it comes to feelings...especially when it comes to you...

A/N: I just really like the idea of Miguel having a crush on reader and not knowing how to navigate it. This went through so many rewrites so I hope you enjoy. its pretty Fluffy and cheesy, but I'm a hopeless romantic so I enjoyed it.

Word Count: 5,547

“Tsk, why did she have to say that…”

Miguel can't help but feverishly type at his holo screens, with each passing second his irritation spreads.

It started a couple of months ago when you got recruited, at first it was just a simple attraction but the more you graced him with your presents the more he couldn't resist his growing feelings.

The problem is for one having a crush is ridiculous. He's not some teenager, he's a grown-ass man, leader of the spider society he can't just go having crushes on the people who work under him. Even if he got over that part of it there is another problem however plaguing his….situation, he can hardly even speak to you.

Before he was Spider-Man he was quite suave and if he didn't want to converse with someone he could at least manage it. Nowadays, he seems to only be talking in gruff commands, short sentences, or just downright mean. Closing himself off from personal things. He blames the whole masked vigilante thing for his lack of practice in conversing.

It's not like he hasn’t tried though, he's come close to having normal conversation with you numerous times but when you look at him with those eyes something in him seems to short-circuit and he's a mess of a man before you. Shocking ridiculous…

Finally, Miguel couldn't take it anymore; he had to get closer to you. The plan was simple: he arranged for you and him to go on a mission together. It was the perfect way to get closer to you, You and him alone, out of the society walls away from prying eyes, he could finally open up to you.

Unfortunately, the beautiful plan he had so painstakingly rehearsed over and over again in his mind, came to a screeching halt when the day of you walked into his office with Gwen and Hobie in tow. Of course, something was going to derail his plans. It couldn't ever be simple

Miguel could easily say no to Gwen and Hobie asking to tag along, but those two were clever. They had you ask for them and of course, you did. Miguel knew that the inclusion of them would wreck his plan but he just couldn't resist you, he would do anything for you…anything…you just had to ask.

Now with his whole plan derailed he was sulking in an isolated corner of the rooftop building as the rest of you all surveyed the city for anomalies.

“This is pretty dull…” Hobie comments

Well no shit, Miguel thinks to himself. This was supposed to be an easy mission so he could get closer to y/n. It wasn't supposed to be stressful, it was supposed to be easy. In his plan, he and y/n were supposed to already be enthralled in conversation. He had of course looked up conversation starters to use, it would have been perfect…

Miguel can only groan at Hobie, just looking at him makes his blood boil. Needing to calm his sudden irritation, his eyes fall on you. Looking so vigilantly to the city, taking the mission so seriously. He could do this forever, just watching you, he would gladly just be a piece of furniture in your life if you let him. There for you to use when you needed him. He would sit so patiently as he just watched you live. Just basking in the warm radiance of you.

Miguel can’t help but stare at you, mind racing with thoughts. So when you finally turn he is quick to move his gaze, pretending to not have been staring, tapping again at his watch.

He thought for sure he had been slick but when he looked up again to gaze at you he saw Hobie with a wide smirk on his face. Almost like Hobie has been reading his mind. Hobie huffs a chuckle to himself before he looks at you then back to Miguel, Then that damn question rang out from his smug mouth.

“How about some team bonding huh?” All eyes fall on Hobie and before anyone can even respond he's continuing “I’ll ask the first question, what does everyone fancy?”

Going to voice his protest about how that is not imperative knowledge to know about a teammate Gwen is chiming in “Oh! I love a guy with witty humor, even if it's not particularly funny, if he's clever I will like it.”

Hobie nods “Very nice gwendy, personally, I have a thing for hands”

This caused a laugh from y/n and Gwen and Miguel just couldn't help the irritated look on his face.

“Miguel how abou-”

“No” Miguel quickly cuts off the question.

“Fine, Y/n what about you?”

Now Miguel didn't care about the teen's answers, but yours, this could be his chance to find out what you like. He was hopeful it would be something similar to him or something that he has. Watching with bated breath, your face contorts into deep thought, and then your answer rings through making his breath still.

“I like smiles”

A smile…of course, you would say a smile…

You couldn’t say, tall or muscular, or stern, you couldn’t have just pointed to Miguel you had to say smiles…something that he never does

Pulling himself back to the present Miguel stops typing away at his holo screen shutting them off. It had been a couple of days since the mission and he was still agonizing over the revelation. Smiles…Staring ahead towards one of his monitors he studies his face through the reflective surface, his ever stern face showing no sign of emotion.

Miguel then practices a smile and quickly stops with a frown, sighing irritatedly as his foot begins to tap, what is he doing? Looking forward again, He braces his large hands on his desk then smiles again, this time showing his teeth, large fangs on display from the grin. He keeps the smile placed there and turns his head from left to right smiling a bit wider. He then stops whipping his hands down his face.

This is ridiculous…he should be working not practicing how to smile but, you like smiles…maybe if you thought he had a nice smile…

Miguel feels his face slightly flush and the tips of his ears warm. Looking back to the reflective surface he takes a deep breath to ready himself. Sure this is pathetic, but it's for you, he would do anything for you and if you want a smile he was going to make sure to practice to give you the best smile he could muster. Training, it's just like simple training…

“Hey, how are you today y/n?” -smiles-

“Oh, are you eating lunch? Can I join you?” -smile-

“What? You like my fangs? Well thank you y/n” -smile-

“You look gorgeous today.” -smile-

Miguel breaks the last rehearsed smile and rubs his hands on his face once more, an exasperated sigh leaving him again.

“this so stupid…that wouldn’t work…”Practicing how to smile for her. Pathetic.

The sound of his office door opening breaks his pouting. Miguel quickly puts his screens back up making him seem busy with work. Then the sweet sound of your voice rings through his blushed ears, turning, he thinks it can't be true, but there you are. Staring up at him with those shining eyes.

Just give me a chance, you won't regret it; he thinks to himself.

“Hello Miguel, we caught the anomaly in dimension 0798, Peter had a mayday emergency come up so he asked me to deliver the reports.”

You type away at your watch screen sending the completed report his way.

“I also wanted to see if you had anything else for me before I take my leave,”

Miguel opens up the report you sent his way, it's pristine and thorough, you always wrote the best reports…god could you be sexier…

Scanning over it quickly before putting it away his eyes return to you. Unable to help himself he stares at your beautiful form for a bit too long, face still in that stern look, no smile to greet you. Studying you for a moment wanting to confess his desire for you, wanting to tell you what you make him feel. But the words don't meet his lips, just a curt grunt.

“Nothing else, you can leave”

Giving a small nod you turn on your heels to leave, As you are walking towards the exit Miguel can't help himself and calls out your name. Whipping around quickly you face him once more with curious eyes.

Shit, he didn't think that through. Examining you he takes you in again. lovely eyes, glossy lips, those hips…he could stare at you forever. Clearing his throat averting his eyes to calm himself before he speaks.

“I hope you have a pleasant evening.'' He says not looking at you, then he forces himself to slide his scarlet eyes to you, then quickly balling his clammy hands into first he gives his best shot at a smile. It's more of a smirk and he's worried his fangs might be popping out too much. Sure, he's going to have to practice to do better, but this is what he's got for you now. He feels intense eyes not matching the smile but he keeps it on hoping this is enough for you; he feels like an idiot.

You look surprised for a minute before your lips widen to that additive smile of yours. God how you make his chest warm from your small actions, do you even know what you do to him? Breath catching in his throat he just watches how the simple act of your smile lightens up his dingy office.

“You too Miguel, thank you.” Turning back you exit the office, completely oblivious that you have completely melted him.

Watching you leave the smile turns more natural, softening his rigid features slightly.

“Well, that seemed to go well, practicing is starting to pay off huh?” Layla beams floating around Miguel's head, his face instantly falling back to his ever-iconic frown.

“Could you just, not?” the voice irritated but the slight flush of his ears gave away how on the inside he's beaming.

-----

Miguel couldn't help himself, after your brief interaction in his office a few days ago, he just couldn't resist the urge to see you again. But instead of just finding and talking to you (like a normal person) he settled on watching you through the cameras of HQ.

Yes, Kinda creepy, but when you are near he clams up so this was the alternative. You were training in the strength and conditioning room, sparring with Gwen to improve your combat skills. Miguel appreciated how seriously you were taking your training, sweat and fatigue in your eyes showing how you were instant to push yourself. Movements so graceful chest heaving as you wore out over time. Seeing your sweaty body a familiar rush spreads through him reaching his crotch, you're going to be the death of him…

Finally, the training wrapped up, Miguel watched as you stretched out your neck rubbing your sore shoulders. The training session wore you out. Always pushing yourself towards improvement, Miguel admired that about you.

“Si, baby so sore,” Miguel whispers as he watches you. If you gave him the chance he would rub all your soreness from you, he would make it his mission just to make you feel good.

Getting closer to the screen he thinks of what it would be like to just touch you, to hold you, just once. That's all he needed one touch and this crush would disappear.

Watching intently he sees that smile, like the one you had given him spread to your lips when Gwen handed you a bottle of water. Eagerly opening the water you press the bottle to your lips and start drinking in haste, the water running down your mouth to your neck. His heart skips a beat and his pants get tighter, of course, one touch wouldn't satisfy him. If he had you he could never let you go, his plight would only worsen.

Zooming on to your face he studies every curve, every feature.

“Just one chance, give me one chance…”

“One chance what?”

Peter's voice breaks Miguel's daze and causes him to quickly hide the monitor with his hands. It's too late however Peter is right next to him and has heard what Miguel said. Peter's face is confused at first but when he looks at Miguel's eager hands trying to hide something he leans in further, and then a sliver of your face shows through. Realization hits him and an excited smile spreads to his face. Peter watches as Miguel's face slightly flushes and contours to irritation.

“Miguel, wait, do you-”

“No, ¡Cállate!”

------

After a long conversation of Miguel telling Peter to shut up while he guesses his crush correctly, he's boasting about how he figured Miguel was interested in y/n and how he was going to help Miguel out. Miguel was reluctant, but he wanted to get closer to you desperately, so if Peter was going to help to make that happen he would just have to grit and bear it, for you, anything for you. Peter assures Miguel he knows how to help him but he first has to go pick up some supplies….

Peter returns to Miguel’s office with a bag. Miguel knew he was about to regret this.

“So I figured because you have a hard time talking to y/n the best thing to do is rehearse what you are going to say. When I asked out MJ I practiced this whole speech for her, very romantic. She loved it.” As Peter talks he opens the bag to reveal a wig that is very raminist to your hair. Peter flips the wig on his head and faces Miguel.

Miguel just shakes his head disapprovingly

“No, Absolutely not.”

“Come on Miguel we are just going to practice what you're going to say” Peter tries to reassure with a smile.

“Is the wig really necessary?” Miguel groans as he watches Peter flick the hair from his face and adjust the wig.

Peter holds his hand to his chest in mock offense “It helps me get in character”

“I'm not doing this” Miguel turns to leave to go back to working on his platform before Peter quickly protests.

“Okay, okay, I'm just trying to help ease the tension, but let's do this, practice what you are going to say.”

Miguel huffs, he really must be desperate to be getting Peter's help like this. “How do I even approach her?”

“You could start with a hi, you know like a normal person?”

Miguel groans “Okay…” Peter turns away from Miguel. Miguel takes a moment to think of his approach before he walks closer to Peter.

“Hello, Y/n do you have a second to talk?”

Peter whips around in a perky dementor, “Oh hi Miguel, of course, I have a second just for you” Peter says in a mockingly sweet tone and shoots Miguel a wink that has his skin crawling

“She wouldn't do that”

“You don't know, plus I'm playing y/n so I am putting my creative twist to it, now continue”

Miguel rolls his eyes before continuing.

“I enjoyed reading your last mission report, very thorough as usual”

Peter groans breaking character “Miguel, that’s boring, don’t talk about work. You're trying to ask her out not give her a promotion”

Miguel thinks “Well that’s a thought…”

Peter snaps his fingers “Look you like her you need to get personal share your feelings; share your passion.”

Miguel scoffs rolling his eyes, sharing his passion. He couldn't get that personal so quickly. Peter can read his distrust and is quick to convince him.

“No, trust me, I landed MJ I know how to talk to women, now try again but with more passion and fire!”

Peter goes back to where he was standing before. Miguel turns and thinks of Y/n. Passion? Fire?

His thoughts go back to when he first saw her, he thought she glowed in a breathtaking radiance, and he couldn't remember when he saw someone so beautiful. Then once she started talking she was so positive, but never naive, she just always wanted to bring people up and make them feel better. She was also a hard worker, always picking up the slack for others and always wanting to improve herself, not everyone was like that, they would just be content with how things were but not her. Then there was how she always made a room warmer from just being there, things were just a little bit better when you were around. Miguel saw qualities in her that he wished he had, or that he wished a partner would have. So since he met her, she was stuck in his mind.

Finally, he thinks he has it,

“Y/n” Miguel breathes.

Peter turns around slowly “Why yes…” Before he can finish his words Miguel’s large frame is looming over him, hands quickly squeezing his arms to his sides staring intensely.

“I think you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. You are so warm to me and I would destroy anything or anyone who would ever think of harming you. Just give me the word, give me a chance and I will…for you…anything for you…”

Peter looks terrified from the intensity of the confession and a coughing nose makes them break the intense eye contact.

They see Jess and Ben staring at the two of them Jess is the first to speak up

“Should we come back later? Or…”

Miguel and Peter quickly break apart.

“Look that wasn't towards me Miguel has a thing for Y/n”

Right as Peter voices your name Miguel's hands on his throat to strangle him. Jess and Ben all let out a long ‘oh’ as Miguel proceeded to shake Peter by his neck.

“It’s actually been quite sweet” a voice calls “I mean we all should have guessed considering he stares at her like a love-sick dog.”

This causes Miguel to stop his assault on Peter and look around confused. Dropping down he sees Hobie with that smug look on his face.

“Your kinda obvious mate.”

Miguel shakes his head, irritation and embarrassment starting to take him over.

“What are you doing here?” Miguel growls

“Look mate I just came to catch a nap, didn't expect to catch a show instead.”

Great, Peter knows, Jess knows, Ben knows and now shocking Hobie knows, this can't get any worse.

“So, when are you going to confess?” Ben asks curiously

“We were shooting for next week” Peter, now back to life, places his hand on Miguel's shoulder.

Hobie sucks air between his teeth and this causes everyone to turn to look at him confused.

“I wouldn’t wait that long if I were you, apparently she has a crush she's going to confess too soon.”

Miguel's eyes glow red, it just got worse- “She likes someone? Who!” He barks out to get an answer

Hobie holds his hands up in mock surrender “I ain’t got scooby doo mate, just what I heard”

“Well that could just be a rumor,” Jess says trying to calm Miguel's sudden rage

“It was from a reliable source” Hobie counters with a smirk.

------

What is he doing, What is he doing?

Miguel's mind races as he swings through y/n’s dimension. It was just a rumor he tried to assure himself, but that small voice in his mind counters, what if it wasn’t? What if it was true and he missed his chance, no, even if you reject him he needs to tell you how he feels. All his nervousness seems to flow away as he gets closer to your apartment.

Your apartment in view he takes a deep breath and swings over, gripping the wall with his talons to catch himself. Climbing with a fever he reaches your window which was left open by a crack, the curtains of your room hiding the inside. He didn't even know if you were home, and just going in would be an invasion of your privacy but Miguel can't resist he needs to talk to you tonight!

Slowly opening the window more he first smells it, then your whimpering moan confirms it. Miguel swallows trying to soothe his suddenly dry throat. With slow movements, he carefully opens the window and peaks through the curtains.

There you are, back arched, hair messy, bouncing on a large dildo. It was the image he had fantasized about and now it's happening right in front of him. Completely hypnotized by the sight and urged by the tightening of his suit's crotch area. He moves his head in more, pushing up on the window to open it slowly wider to lean himself in.

“Ah!~ ah!~”

Eyes widening Miguel thinks he's dreaming, the throbbing of his cock is killing him and as he moves his hand from the window to palm his sudden ache. But with no warning the window slid shut abruptly, landing hard on his head and making a loud thump. The sudden noise startles you to scream, quickly unsheathing the dildo from your wet pussy and fumbling to cover yourself with the ruined sheets of your bed.

“Miguel? What are you doing here?” you ask in a panic.

Face flushed Miguel crawls through your window landing clumsily on the floor. He's too embarrassed to answer your question.

“What's wrong with your window?” -smooth, avoid the question.

“It's broken, it only stays open a crack” you ramble in confusion, then you furrow your eyes back to him “wait, don’t avoid the question, why are you here?”

Miguel stumbles off of the floor now towering at his full height. Looking down at you he can't help the desire flooding down to his cock. The sweat makes your skin glow, your hair a disheveled mess from fucking yourself too fast, nude body wrapped in your thin white sheets that as your arousal completely drenches it making it appear slightly see-through on your body. Great, he thought confessing to you would be hard before, but now it seems downright impossible.

Miguel sees you shuffling uncomfortably so he turns around before he speaks, the tips of his ears red from blushing.

“I wanted to speak with you.”

“Uh, You couldn't call?”

Miguel's shoulders slumped slightly, this was not going well…

“No, it's not a work matter”

“Then what-”

“Personal” Miguel quickly whips around looking at your eyes before turning back around. He starts tapping his foot feeling nervous.

“You see y/n, I'm not exactly the best when it comes to talking..about…personal things. I usually focus on work, especially since founding the society that honestly takes up my entire life-” Miguel feels himself starting to ramble, great he's talking now but not saying what he needs to. “Well lately there has been something else occupying my mind, and it involves you.”

Miguel hears you shuffling around and his nerves are threatening to get the better of him. How can he face anomalies, and lead a whole superhuman society but he can't just tell someone he likes them? Taking a deep breath he steadies himself once more. He just needs to do it, confess, come on it's just like ripping off a bandaid.

“Do you remember what Hobie asked us?…”

Miguel winces and scratches the back of his head, Why is he bringing this up now? Great; This confession is already crap…

“Um…Yeah?” shit, you sound so creeped out. Well, how could you not be right now? Just need to keep going.

“Well, the thing is, it's you…the thing I like, well you're not a thing. The person I like..is you. But I guess Hobie was talking about characteristics…you have actually a lot of characteristics that I am fond of…like your eyes for one…but it's not just your appearance, shit…¿Qué demonios estoy diciendo? (what the hell am I saying).”

As Miguel rubs his hand on his forehead feeling stupid for doing this, his words are cut off by the sensation of a hand touching the middle of his back gently. The hand rubs up and down slowly, causing a shiver to roll down Miguel's spine.

“I like you too,” Your voice rings in his ears, the thumping of his heart stilling for a moment as his breath stops. Miguel turns around to face you. You're looking up at him still wrapped up in your sheets, arms wrapping around his waist. That smile that lights up his mind, how your touch warms his body. He's addicted to how you make him feel.

“I’m not good at this…there was this whole speech I rehearsed..”

“Yeah, you might need some more practice on your romantic speeches”

Looking down you look like an angel wrapped in your white sheets looking up at him with such tenderness. Not wanting to waste this moment he leads down towards your face.

“I think I'm more of a man of action, rather than words”

Feeling your soft hand touch his face he sees how to lift your toes to get closer to his face fanning your breath over his lips.

“Isn’t the saying? Actions speak louder than words?”

With that he swiftly lifts you from the back of your thighs, instinctively you wrap your legs around him, and then your arms wrap around his neck while your fingers play with his dark hair. Seating himself down on your bed with you straddling him. Miguel's crimson eyes just keep to your face, taking in how your face changes with every movement he makes.

Tenderly you place your hands to the sides of his face, leaning in you carefully catch his lips into a kiss. He reveled in how your glossy lips formed to his, his tongue gently pushing through your lips. He has to open his eyes and close them again just to make sure this is real and not one of his daydreams.

The kiss becomes more heated, you taste better than he could have imagined. Slowly he rubs his gloves hands over you causing your thin sheet to slip off you pooling to the floor.

Miguel breaks the kiss and looks down at your nude body. A low groan vibrates through his chest as he pushes your body closer to him, then roughly grabs your ass. The sudden touch has you jumping forward with a whimper. Taking the opportunity, he is quick to latch his plush lips to your perked bud. Tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while his talons threaten to pierce the skin of your ass.

He's lost in the moans of you losing yourself to the pleasure. Tugging and pinching your sensitive skin as he licks the valley of your breast. Getting drunk off your moans he swears he could continue to taste your skin forever but, the feeling of your wet cunt rubbing against his erection tips him off to how needy you are becoming, your rutting into him like you're in heat, and he's quick to make it worse by grinding into you latching onto your breast once more.

“Miguel, please…”

That's right, beg…Miguel releases your nipple with a pop.

“Please what my angel?” he grabs your neck and licks a stripe up to your ear that causes you to shake.

“I want you, Please.”

Miguel smiles and deactivates his suit, his strained erection quickly popping forward to slap your puff folds, moans escaping from your lips. Grabbing a hold of his cock he slips it through your folds coating it your slick. Practically coming undo then he feels how your nails scratch his skin, the teasing is making you desperate. Miguel can't help himself; he slaps his cock on your swollen clit just to hear you whimper.

“Ride it, angel.”

Grabbing his cock he holds it still as you breathlessly line yourself up to the pebbling tip of his cock. Tight grip on his shoulders you slowly sink yourself down. Inch by inch slowly splitting yourself open on him.

“It’s ah, big…”

You're already clenching and you're only halfway down. Miguel is quick to rub soft circles on your hip gently guiding you while cooing praises to your ear.

“Shh, I know but you're almost there, just relax.”

Finally, you have pressed him in, the delicious stretch making your head roll over your bare shoulders. Taking a moment to adjust to his size Miguel presses delicate kisses to your chest and collarbone. His hands hold your hips as you adjust to his length.

“Look at you, you're taking me so well”

Glazed-over eyes meet his praise and your glossy lips stretch to a smile. He thinks he could cum just at the sight, but he knows you need more, and he's not going to disappoint you. Quickly he's lifting your hips up and down fucking you slowly down on him. All you can do is moan and grab his shoulders tighter and his pace builds from slow and tender to more vigorous.

Subtle grunts of ‘Mine’, and ‘sweet’ escape his lips as he practically uses you as a human fleshlight. To Miguel's surprise though you're pushing his chest to lay his back onto the bed. Once he's down you start bouncing faster on him.

Bouncing, up and down the squelch of your wet pussy clenching on him, you are mewling in pleasure as your face contours to that of a silent scream. Body glistening from the sweat fucking yourself hard on his cock, back arching as you chase your orgasm. Miguel can help but throw his head back moaning, his mouth hanging open fangs stretched out. He never thought his sweet angel could be so relentless, it has his cock throbbing.

“That's it, baby, fuck yourself dumb on my cock”

Miguel starts rubbing and flicking your clit that has your eyes pricking with tears. He watches as you pant, your velvet walls clenching down on him as you continue to ride him approaching orgasm. Sweat rolls down your flushed skin and you continue. Taking his hand he gently grabs your chin and makes you look down at him, he wants to etch the fucked out expression to his mind forever. His sweet angel mouth in that perfect ‘o’ and her hooded eyes pool with tears from the intense pleasure.

Biting his lip he slams his hip up nudging into your cervix that has you throwing your head back screaming, your nails digging into his chest as you finally squirt on his cock.

“Cumming, I'm cumming miggy~ ah, ah ah!”

“That’s it, cum on my cock, such a good girl, squirting all over me.”

Fucking you through your orgasm he stops your bouncing and grabs your hips guiding you to rock back a forth on his length. Squirming and wailing in overstimulation he knows that the pain and pleasure are swirling together making your brain split, your cunt gets wetter as it tightens to try and accommodate to the rapture you are feeling.

“Just hang on for me angel, ah please…”

Thoroughly fucked dumb you're only able to blabber incoherently and nod through half-lidded eyes as Miguel's throbbing cock chases his orgasm. With your blissed-out agreeance, he Grabs the globs of your ass and fucks into your faster.

“Ah, I'm going to fill you up, you want that? Be filled with cum?”

You can only release a stream of ‘uh-huh’ as the coil in your stomach starts to tighten again. It's not until you muster a sweet coo of “fill me” that has him rutting harder shooting his hot cum inside you with one final thrust. Whimpering as he fills you, you sit still on his cock till you’ve practically milked him dry. The intense throbbing of his cock and the sudden rush of heat bursting inside you has your coil snapping as you cum on him a second time

Gently rubbing your sides he coaxes you down slowly to his chest. Curling his arm around you he softly kisses your spent body. Staying like that for awhile, it's you who finally rolls off his chest and disappears out of the room. Miguel hears what sounds like a bath, leaning up he looks up to see your nude body leaning in the doorway smiling at him, it's so infectious that he can't help but smile back.

----

Miguel's head is pressed to your chest as you gently massage the conditioner through his scalp. A smile pressed to his lips as he just relaxes with you in the warm bath. His large hand rubs tender circles on your knee as he just listens to your sweet hums as you tenderly wash him. The steam from the bath rises to create the perfect haze in the room, it feels so natural to be doing this,to be with you in such an intimate way. Kisses get pressed to his face as you hug him tightly, the smile on his face only growing wider.

“Miguel”

“Mhmm?” He lazily looks up at you to see your sweet smile. Carefully he brings his hand to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Nothing, I just really like your smile”

1K notes · View notes

bi-writes · 22 days

Text

it took the end of the world to bring you to where you were supposed to be. (18+, 5.5k words) ghost (+ johnny) x fem!reader (apocalypse au -> dark content ahead)

you know it is luck that you are still alive. in times of anarchy, it isn't the soft and weak hearts that remain. only the unfeeling stay alive. the ones that are willing to do what others are not. the lot that know what isolation feels like. the ones familiar with survival and everything that comes with the wounds it leaves behind.

the loneliness. the paranoia. the heat of hunger and the impossible itch of thirst, on top of the fact that running for your life is second nature to you now.

if it wasn't the sick and dead lurking in the shadows, it was the live ones that would take you. and you have seen what they can do, and you have watched what the opportunities of the unbecoming have given them, and you vow that you will kill yourself with your own dull army knife than let yourself succumb to that kind of death.

you'd rather be eaten alive by the things that don't understand than the ones that do, because they don't know any better, and the others do, and they know what they are doing isn't human, but they don't care.

whether they eat for survival, for pleasure, for power, it is becoming more and more difficult to discern between the sick and the healthy, and in that in-between, you've decided to be on your own.

you know the loneliness will eat at you from the inside. but you are comforted by the fact that you are not being eaten from the outside.

you sleep in the trees tonight. you climb, high enough to be out of sight, and then you use the rope in your pack to anchor yourself to the trunk. as soon as your head falls back, you fall asleep. you have been walking for days now, you think, and with nothing in your belly except for a few scavenged snacks, sleep comes easy.

when you wake up in the morning, you feel the crisp edge of the sky against your face, and you know it will rain soon.

if there is a god above, they will wash you away with it. you hope, at least. you don't know if this is how you imagined noah's ark--the cleansing of the earth, a flood great enough to wipe it of what they deem ugly and unimaginable and irredeemable. and god must be a man, because only a man would unleash something like this that comes with consequences he never intended--the fact that it didn't fucking work. in his effort to eradicate the fucked up pieces of shit he supposedly created by his own hand, he unleashed them.

he set them free.

and like a man, instead of fixing his fucking mistakes, he turns a blind eye. he forgets. he allows it to manifest, and now that it is out of control, he will blame the sins of what he's done on someone else, someone like you. the innocent. the unknowing. the small and the weak, the ones who he said would inherit the earth, where is he now that there is nothing to inherit? how come he's allowed to go back on his promises, and i'm not? what have i done so wrong that this is the lifetime you gave me?

you don't know why you care. you don't know why you've survived and why you keep trying to. you don't know what drives you forward, but there must be something. there has to be something waiting for you, because you don't think your life can fall any lower than this.

but fuck, there are other plans for you.

there's no one to hear you scream. they cut the branch, unravel the rope, and one of them has gotten ahold of your legs, and they're dragging you. you cry, you scream, you thrash, but all your clawing hands do is leave sporadic trails in the dirt. they laugh, you think, but you cannot hear them over the blood that rushes in your ears.

your nails are raw when they flip you over onto your back. they bleed from how you scratched to be let go, and you don't know why you fight this, but you just have this voice inside you that screams that this can't be how this ends. this can't be the way you go--this isn't the what you deserve, this isn't fair--

you vow to leave your mark. when they come closer, you don't let them come easy. you claw at their faces, rip out chunks of their hair, and when another comes close, you use your teeth, biting off chunks of their flesh, tasting blood, because i won't make it easy for you, i won't go silently, i'll leave you worse than you leave me, i'll take you with me if i fucking have to.

and when it stops, you sob. suddenly everything is still, and there are no hands on you anymore, and all you can see through the blood in your eyes is the sky above you, and how it is early morning, and there's a flock of birds passing by overhead. they fly peacefully. they have no idea what they're observing--the struggle of being alive, the humanity of your will to live, the defiance of dying at their hands, they have no idea that they are witnessing the death and rebirth of something fragile, something so delicate.

you sit up on your hands shakily, and you swallow hard as you look around. to your horror, your savior is a man.

bodies surround you. there's blood staining the dead leaves along the forest ground, trickling from sickening wounds in heads. in one hand, the man in front of you holds a dirty stone, large and jagged, and the sharp edge of it is darkened with red and drips on the tips of his boots. he has wild blue eyes, and while his hair is grown out, it is carefully cut along the sides. his dark hair falls in effortless curls along his forehead and at the base of his neck, and when he meets your eyes, he smiles, wickedly.

he wields other methods of killing people, but he chose a fucking rock. and you think he must be crazy.

you shake, and you find your balance, crawling back on your hands to get away from him, but you're only able to crawl a few feet before your back hits an imposing wall.

you gasp, jerking to the side, and you bow your head to cry when there is another man behind you. this one towers, broad and big, and he wears a sickening skull mask that shadows any human part of him. he might not even be human--maybe he's as dead as everyone else.

you hiss when your hair is pulled. crouching at your level now, the one that wears a real face stares down at you, still smiling. he's chuckling now, licking his lips, and you lean forward and spit at him. it lands on his cheek, a mess of saliva and blood, but his eyes seem to only sparkle. his smile widens.

"what do we have 'ere, LT?" he snickers, and you gather the saliva in your mouth and spit it at his feet this time. there's more of a mess of cartilage and blood and spit, but instead of disgusting him, he just grins up at the ghost behind you. "with a will ta live. ever seen anythin' like it?"

"she's dead fuckin' weight." even his voice has you shaking, low and gravelly, and you hold back a whine when you're let go of. the scottish one is yanked backwards by the scruff of his hair by his superior, who bends to growl in his ear. "she'll only hold us back. dunno why y'even had to intervene, she'll not make another fuckin' day."

"fuck you," you snap, wiping at your face with a trembling hand. you wipe at the tears under your eyes, coughing, and you stare back up at him. with the sun in his face, you can see his eyes. they are dark, and they are unforgiving.

he is one of the ones who is free. he is one of the ones that god intended to kill, and yet here he stands, stronger than ever. and even though you know he's a murderer, an undeserving, broken inside and scarred on the outside, he'll outlive you because he thrives in the anarchy of what is left behind, and you are consumed by it all.

"let's go, johnny," he spits, and you close your eyes. you don't know why you were spared your life. you don't know why luck has been on your side, you don't know why men are what punish you and save you, but you cannot escape them. they send you to slaughter, and then they pick you out of the pen, and you wish you had more control.

you want to be more than this. you want to be more than whatever it is you're made of. you are not meant to be here, you're not meant to be alive, but you are, and fuck, you're so tired of it.

johnny belongs to him. it's obvious, in the way that he lets that man pull on him and order him around, even if they are adorned in military fatigues. you imagine there is no authority anymore, but he listens to that beast anyway, because he's getting up onto his feet, letting it guide him away from you.

if you want to live, you'll have to tame that beast.

"i-i can be useful," you say softly. your eyes are wet and big, and you look up at them as they stand over you. johnny turns his head, looking at his handler, who tilts his head to the side and glares at you. he does not believe you, at least that's what it feels like, but you look right into his eyes and take a deep breath. "you'll just kill me if i'm not. w-what do you have to lose?"

the hum he lets out isn't an agreement, but he doesn't say no either. so when he turns to walk away, you stand, brush your bloodied jeans off, and you follow them. johnny trails, putting you between them. you're pretty, but he doesn't trust you yet, but you're also aware of the eyes you feel on you from behind. when you catch him staring at your ass, he doesn't pretend to look anywhere. he simply giggles.

they are a unit. they can speak without words. johnny tells you his handler's name is ghost. his lieutenant, a man of many talents, and you refrain from rolling your eyes at his sergeant's praise. but instead, you look up at him, and you smile, and you nod, and you give him those doe eyes that you can tell make him a little dizzy.

at night, they alternate keeping watch. they carry lots of gear, and while one guards in his sleep, the other stands in the shadows and keeps their head on a swivel. they take efficient rounds of sleep, getting their rest in while keeping their senses on alert. the first night, you aren't able to sleep. you are too afraid of johnny and how he smiles, because he's a dog, and you don't know when ghost will let go of his leash.

and you are too afraid of ghost, because he looks at you like he wants to kill you, and when he does, you'd like to look him in the eyes for it. you want him to know that you might not be strong like them, might not be the kind of survivors that they are, but you aren't a coward.

you aren't a man, and you'll die the way a woman should--with her fucking dignity.

the days pass easier. ghost hunts, and johnny cleans. ghost scavenges, and johnny kills. and when there is food, johnny feeds it to you, and you put on your best face, opening your mouth, letting him spoon you a mouthful of something that warms your belly. johnny eats your lies right up, but one look at ghost, and you know he sees right through you. with each lick of your finger, he snarls, and with each foot you step closer to johnny, he growls.

he doesn't believe you. you need to make him believe you.

you see your opportunity. it crawls towards him on soft hands, flesh spongy and quiet from the weeks of decay and rot. you see its mouth, black teeth sharp and ready to sink into the meat of his calf, and you lunge, pushing the vase off the table and watching the heavy clay fall until it squishes the head into a heap of rotten matter and dead meat.

ghost turns, looks down, and when he looks back up, he sees you gasping for breath, heaving. there's a desperation in your eyes. it trickles between panic and worry, and you don't know how it is you wear it so well, but it manifests into wet tears that gather at the corner of your eyes.

he's not a beast. he's just a man. and when he passes by you, he reaches up and grips your face hard, nearly shaking you, but it isn't like any other time he's touched you. he glares down at you, right into your eyes, and you melt, stepping just that much closer, sinking your nails into fabric of his tactical vest and gripping it tight.

i can be useful. it rings in his ears as he looks down at you, the burden he has been carrying with him, and suddenly he drags you that much closer, until your open mouth touches the front of his mask.

even your determined conscience can't stop your legs from squeezing together when you feel the warmth of his breath.

i can be useful. i can be useful. i can be useful.

you can be the thing that wakes what is dead inside of him. you can be the virus that infects his veins, the dagger straight through his heart, the heat of the sun, the thing that builds back up what he's buried so far down. johnny keeps him human, but you'll keep his blood pumping. johnny satisfies the itch of authority that ghost needs to keep, but you challenge the fire he keeps under his tongue, and fuck, those eyes.

you pretend with johnny. you play the damsel in distress. you fawn, let him coo over your soft eyes, keen at his touch, but it is a game you play, and he sees it, he sees it, but this time, it doesn't make him angry, and he likes it, and fuck, have you always been this pretty?

you swallow your smile. his grips tightens, and you know you have him.

he's yours. and he's going to keep you. the world ends, god doesn't answer your prayers, the salt of the earth runs free, but it doesn't have to be the end for you. you will learn the hymn of what makes monsters move, and you will sing that song until you can't sing anymore.

you will learn their language, and you will convince them of what you are not, and keep what you really are a secret.

the good, the easy, the soft, you'll keep it inside, because that isn't who lives at the end of the world--it's ghosts that remain, and this one belongs to you.

this one belongs to me, this one is mine, this one you can't fucking have.

and maybe it's selfish. maybe it's wrong to think this way, to take from your saviors this way, because that is what they did, they did save you, but this is the only way you can make sure you make it out of here, that you live. a man takes, and a woman gives, but wouldn't it be nice if it wasn't always this way?

because the dead are still moving now, and there isn't humanity in the living; this is what you are owed.

you think it will be difficult to pretend. when it is night again, and you are staring up at the blue of johnny's eyes, you think it will be difficult, but it isn't. despite what you know he doesn't have, even though you know there isn't anything good in him, he still smiles, and he's so pretty, and you let him kiss you.

it's easy because he's warm. his voice low, his breaths heavy, and it feels like love, and it isn't hard to imagine yourself somewhere else. in another place, meeting him in another time, falling in love with him because it is the only thing you really have to worry about. if you lived another life, you wonder if you still end up here.

you wonder if he would eat your cunt this way in that other place. like he'll never have it again. if he's just as aggressive, spreading your thighs, trapping himself between them, slurping at your folds until you are nothing but a wet, leaking mess underneath him. you wonder if he would groan the way he does, gripping you tight enough to bruise, taking his fill because everything that begins has to end, but maybe if i keep making her see fucking stars, she'll let me stay here forever--

johnny's so much easier to control when he's pussy drunk. anything you whisper in his ear, he just nods, licking into your mouth, mumbling incoherently. he'll say yes to anything you say, and when the gruff call of his name pulls him away from you, he struggles to leave. it isn't obvious, the power you have over him, not to him at least. but it's real, and because he watches you even as he goes, you know he'll do anything for you.

he'll do anything for me. he'll live for me. he'll kill for me. but will he do it even if ghost tells him not to?

because that is the only question that matters. if you and ghost stand on either side of him, who will he go to when his name is called?

if i call both of their names, will they come to me?

if he calls my name, will i come to him? am i just the same? do i wear the collar, am i the puppy, is it me that fell and not the men i hate so much? how do i tell the difference between what the fuck is real and what isn't?

you don't know what time it is. it's dark outside, it must be the middle of the night, but you can make out ghost's silhouette in the doorway. you've been holed up here for some days, and he takes turns with johnny covering the perimeter. your legs are tired, and so are they, and the bed in this house gives way to a comfort and peace that you haven't felt in a long time.

you tilt your head to the side as you watch him there. you sit up, your hair falling around you, and you watch the shadow of him shift in the hallway there.

"scared of the dark, ghost?" you ask softly, and the way he stills tells you he didn't realize you could see him. he steps into the room, and the candle that flickers in the corner deepens the shadows that dance along his masked face.

"nothin' scares me," he murmurs, and you find his eyes in the dark. it unnerves you every time you stare at one another--his gaze is always so intense. he always looks in between all the layers you hide, and it's hard to remember what you are doing here when he looks at you this way.

"i don't believe that," you counter, and he narrows his eyes, shuffling closer, and you tilt your head back to look up at him. "you're terrified."

"not of wot y'think," he pushes back, but you shake your head.

"don't lie, simon," you whisper, and at the sound of his name, he reaches for your face--cups the underside of your jaw, grips the base of your throat, bends down to growl against the skin of your cheek. "are you jealous? is that what it is?"

"of wot?" he mutters, and you hold your breath when he grips your neck firmly. "of m'pet 'n his little lamb?"

"yes."

"nothin' to be fuckin' jealous of," he laughs, but it holds no humor. "what's his is mine."

"says who?" you breathe, and he pulls back to look at you again. there it is--the thing in your eyes that he cannot escape. he doesn't know what it is, but there is something there, and he craves it. he wants it more than anything else--more than food, than water, than survival, he wants to have it, to own it, to command whatever it is there because it's what he thinks he deserves.

he saved your fucking life, and this is the price for it--he gets to have the thing that lives in you that makes his fucking head spin, and you will give it to him, so help him god.

you kiss soft. he hasn't taken his mask off in a long while, but you move it up easily and without resistance, and now you're kissing him, and he moves without thinking. he hasn't even let johnny this close--he hasn't let him underneath his skin, not this way, and here you are, sighing against the scars he wears and kissing them anyways.

the ugly and the irredeemable, that is the skin he wears, and you love it anyways, and the ringing he always hears is gone because you don't seem to care. you caress his face, and you tug on the front of his vest, and then he is with you, and--he doesn't know if this is real.

when you pull away to look at him, his eyes flutter open. you don't say anything as you climb into his lap. the look you share, you don't know how to explain it, but you are almost afraid that it is understanding.

because it's the end of the fucking world, and he isn't capable of love, and you are only here to survive, and yet there is something here that you can't explain. god isn't real, he's just a man, but you think for a moment that that man might be simon riley because what the fuck is happening to me?

"simon--"

he kisses you this time. hungry, all-consuming. if there is anything you've learned about him in the weeks you've spent beside him, it's that he does everything with purpose or not at all. he has a will, a will of what you don't know, but of something, and he does everything with his entire chest. you've heard him talk to johnny when they think you're asleep, the pillow talk that you aren't supposed to be privy to, and suddenly you wonder if this is what johnny feels like--like the only person left in the entire world. because to matter to someone like lieutenant simon riley means you must've done something right, because he doesn't care about anything, and he doesn't love anyone, and--fuck.

he fucks like it, too. he fucks like he won't live another day, and maybe he won't. he fucks like it's the last time he'll ever see you, and it could be, and maybe that's why you're crying. you're sweaty, naked under him, and he can't stop kissing you. he breathes you in and swallows your breaths like it's what keeps him alive, and maybe it does.

"simon--" you cry, because it feels good, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. your hand rises, slipping under the mask, and your nails scratch over his shaved head underneath. god, it feels sacrilegious to feel him this way, to know what's under it, but it doesn't matter.

"know wot y'r doin'," he hums, and you claw at his back when he slows down. your knees try to widen to accommodate the width of him, and he puts two big hands on your thighs and pushes, nestling himself deep and pressing himself right up against your pelvis. "know y'r playin' tricks on johnny, on me--" you cry, and he tsks, shaking his head, "'s pathetic, luv...thinkin' y'could fool us both."

"i-i--"

a particularly rough thrust shuts you up, and you arch your back, pebbled nipples hard against the warmth of his chest as he chuckles, laughing at you, so mean.

he leans down, and all you can do is whine as he mutters into your ear. "johnny's so fuckin' distracted by y'r cunny, swee'eart. and fuck, i get it, 's such a sweet pussy, luv--" you whimper, grinding up against him, needing him to move, but he puts both hands on your hips and squeezes, holding you still. "--such a nice cunt, make a bloke forget all his fuckin' troubles, but i know--"

you yelp when he reaches up and grabs your face. his palm cradles the lower half of your face, squeezing your jaw, and he squeezes your cheeks as he looks down at you and snarls.

"i know wot y'are. wot y'r here for."

"you--" you sob. "'m here for you--"

"can lie to johnny all y'like, luv, but don't you ever--" you whine as he shakes you gently, "--don't y'ever fuckin' lie to me. y'r usin' us. known since we found ya."

you let out an exhale, a deep one. you find his eyes, and he looks down at you, and you swallow hard. because it's true, in a lot of ways--you could never love them, right? this could never be a real thing. the only men that are left are god's mistakes. when man broke off his rib to make a woman, he didn't know a beast like this would come from him someday, did he?

did he know his sons would try to kill each other? in each and every generation? is he watching the dead roam the earth and wondering why those ones died and ones like this one are still living and breathing?

the thing that you don't understand yet is that nothing will kill ghost. his father couldn't kill him, the dark couldn't kill him, the earth he was buried in couldn't kill him, and every bullet that scarred him had missed the vulnerable places of him by just that much. the virus couldn't kill him, and he has an inkling that even if he was bitten, somehow, he would still live because that's his fucking fate.

his fate is to live, to endure, to grieve, no matter what happens around him. the world collapses, and he watches, and he picks up pieces as he goes hoping they will last, but he knows they won't.

he doesn't know how johnny will die, but he will. he doesn't know how you will die, but you will, and he'll be there to watch. for some reason, there's a little comfort, because at least this means they won't be alone. johnny wouldn't handle being alone well, and neither would you, because johnny is a mutt, and you are a leech, and neither survive without a keeper and a host, something else to keep them alive.

"'s olright," he licks over your bottom lip. "'m keepin' you, luv. but let's get one thing straight, aye?" you grunt when he turns you roughly under him, forcing your face into the mattress and caging you underneath him. you can't move much, all you really can do is sit up on your knees a little and push back against him, burying him deep inside you again as he presses his hips flush against your ass. he tangles his hand into your hair, pulling your head back, and he plants a chaste kiss against your throat. "y'r not above me, pet. you can order around m'mutt all y'like. bet he'll like that..." you hum when he cants your hips, the tip of his cock hitting a nice, warm place inside you, "but y'r gonna do as i say. and be a good girl."

you open your eyes, looking up at him over your shoulder. you plant your palms against the mattress and push back against him again, moving just enough to encourage a few slow, wet grinds.

"anything you want, simon," you whisper, pressing your face into his neck, and he grunts as his hand disappears underneath you to cup your mound, hissing as he feels the place where his cock is moving inside you. "can have whatever you want, please--" you whine in his ear. "i won't lie to you! i-i...i won't lie..."

with his other hand, he cups your breast, squeezing, his thumb circling your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"gonna be a good girl?" he asks. "gonna let johnny fuck ya? let my mutt have his fill?"

you nod, panting.

"are--" you sniffle. "--are you gonna take care of me?"

ghost laughs, as if it's a stupid question. he maneuvers you onto your knees, and as you start to push back against him more eagerly, you start to hear the jangle of the dog tags he wears. you want to turn around and pull on them, want to see his face when he comes, but you tell yourself that's for another time--that right now, you need to get him cumming and agreeable.

he leans over you, picking up the pace, punching his hips into your ass. the sound of your skin against his is wet and quick, and as you press your chest into the mattress, he starts hitting you so deep, the air feels tight in your chest.

"need to see you--!" you gasp, and when you're on your back again, you grab for his face. your knees spread again, welcoming him deep, and you force his eyes to stay on yours as you feel the rough grind of his hips starting to build up that sweet, soft feeling in you.

fuck--he's so big. every part of him, it swallows you, and this isn't any different. you come when you feel him, so much of it that it's leaking down your thighs because he stuffs you so full, and there's tears in your eyes, but he isn't sorry.

looking at him this way is jarring. you have really only ever seen his eyes incredibly dull, nothing in them except a void that you aren't able to understand. but you are using him, and he is using you, and you smile, because now you can read him, read what's reflected there.

when ghost shoves his cum-soaked fingers into your mouth, you don't fight it. you keen, arching your back as you let your tongue swirl around his thick fingers, and he tilts his head to the side as he watches you. he's making sure you're doing as he wants. he's making sure that you will be pliant and good, that you will do as you are told and nothing else because that is what he asks of you.

he's making sure that even though he knows you are not the submissive puppy you pretend to be, that you will be it anyways because if you don't, you won't like how he bites.

you and ghost are the same. you are equals, even if he will never admit it. you trade different parts of yourself, but this isn't about preservation, it's about survival, and you are willing to give yourself for it. you are willing to say yes, ghost, of course, whatever you want, because you aren't supposed to be alive anyways, but you might just have a chance if you hide in his shadow.

you're still on the bed when he dresses himself. he straps his vest back on, zips his pants, and you watch him lick his fingers clean before putting his gloves back on. you reach down, your mouth falling open when a glob of his cum slips out and dampens the sheets, and ghost has a hint of a smirk on before he rolls the mask back down.

"don' worry, luv," he mutters, reaching over and gripping your jaw rough. you pucker your lips, and he snickers. "soap'll fix you right up."

"soap?"

"mmm. the fuckin' thing is useless unless there's a mess to clean up, yeah?"

will you take care of me? will he take care of me when it's time? will he keep the dead out of my eyes and my blood inside?

he never answers your question. and deep down, you're certain it's because he would kill you, and maybe johnny would, too, because johnny does whatever he says, even if it isn't good for him. and you aren't sure if it's because this is his lieutenant or because saying yes is the only thing that make's sense anymore.

i can be useful. i can be useful. i can be useful.

when you are not useful anymore, you'll need to be the first to strike then. because maybe you don't deserve to live, but neither do they. god is a man, and he makes mistakes, and ghost is one of them, and he's eaten johnny's soul, and if you go down, you will take them with you.

god is a man, and he was a fool to think he could've cleansed the earth by himself.

it was the flood that cleansed it the first time, and mother nature always does her fucking job.

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astrow1zar6 · 4 months

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Astro Notes- 017

Cancer moon mothers tend to lack boundaries with them. Their mother can be very smothering at times and almost try to “baby” them constantly. Mother could prevent the child from becoming fully independent. Although they are usually extremely close to their mother I notice they always have this codependent relationship with their moms that can be unhealthy at times . Could’ve took these people longer to leave home than most (unless they have Aries or cap placements)

Jupiter in 4th house individuals probably grew up traveling a lot. These people also tend to be very loved by their families (family favorite).

Having a lot of 8th house synastry is when you are the planet person is SOOO painful if the attraction isn’t mutual. This will have the planet person acting in ways they never thought they’d act. I’ve seen this lead to stalking, using love spells on the other or being extremely possessive. (ESPECIALLY if it’s a moon or mars in the 8th). However if it’s mutual it can be one of the most beautiful deepest relationships. These people will usually stay together for a really long time & be able to express the sides to them they let no one see.

Pisces rising’s shoe game is on point. They always are wearing really nice unique shoes.

Having a moon square ascendant can give a very similar effect to having a Capricorn rising. You normally don’t wear your emotions on your sleeves. They are very uncomfortable showing vulnerability

People with Scorpio & Aquarius placements in their big three when underdeveloped can be big energy vampires. They tend to play hot and cold a lot when they are unsure of their feelings. One day they can be so loving and engaging the next you will be completely iced out.

Scorpio Venus’s are usually very secretive about the people they slept with or kissed.

I seen a lot of women with Mars in the 1st house that prefer boy clothes or baggier clothes because they feel like they have a masculine physique.

Having no earth in your big three can mean it’s difficult for you to ground yourself & you’re more likely to have less control of your emotions and overall stability. (Ex: might be harder to keep the same job without changing, or constantly moving)

Virgo Venus’s can be really dull in relationships. I’m sorry to all my Virgo Venus’s but you guys need to let loose more and take risks. Your need to control the relationship and how you should act will stifle the bond over time. Their is no textbook for love let it flow naturally it will help your guys anxiety.

Scorpio suns are usually isolate themselves from their families at a certain point. They’re that one cousin that pops out every once in a blue moon that u know really nothing about. a lot don’t trust their family with their personal life. Most Scorpios are black sheep’s of their family.

Pisces mars are usually amazing dancers

Too much Venus influence in the chart can make someone a big pick me. They tend to change their personalities to make others like them and feel comfortable. Although this makes them popular and likable you can easily loose yourself in others thoughts and values you don’t develop a strong personality yourself. Self esteem if dependent on how others see you.

#astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

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hyunnie04 · 3 months

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tender

lee know x reader, hurt/comfort | m.list

wc: 1.4k | warnings: themes of depression and struggling with mental health

a/n: this fic is a little self indulgent as i haven't been feeling great lately. so i hope this brings comfort to anyone who needs it ♡

you don’t remember how long you’ve been sitting in the tub. you’re sure your hands have pruned and wrinkled due to the prolonged time you have been in here, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

the sides of your head pulses as a migraine at the forefront of your temple starts to fully form. you had hoped a moment of reprieve in the bath would calm your nerves and ease your headache, but it had yet to do so.

the droplets fall slowly against your furrowed eyebrows and taut expression, dripping freely down on your chin and on the dewy expanse of your chest. both arms are splayed limply across the sides of the tub, staring blankly ahead at the white tiled walls above, unmoving.

the temperature was warm, too warm for your usual liking but you didn’t seem to mind today, welcoming the dull pain it brought. the white tiles that you’ve been staring at for what seemed like forever stared back at you.

the silence was deafening.

a lot has been on your mind lately. the restless and constant feeling of not being good enough and comparing yourself to others caused you to no longer find enjoyment in the things you used to love doing.

words that usually meant nothing had stuck themselves inside your head as well, dissecting every meaning when they had none. sleep did not come easily to you these nights, tossing and turning, failing to succumb into the comforting arms of sleep.

isolation became your company in these moments, withdrawing yourself from everything. missing out on a lot of stuff, in turn, made you feel worse than you already did.

you knew you should probably tell someone about your problems but you just couldn't find it in yourself to do it. the last thing you wanted to be was a bother.

some days are admittedly better than others, where you’re able to get things done, to do your obligations and continue on with life like normal. but when you least expect it, it creeps up on you, pulling you back into that unhealthy head space.

you tried to force these thoughts and feelings down for a long time, pretending that everything was fine. today was apparently the day it all came rising up, unable to keep a lid on your bubbling emotions.

a sense of dread hung over your head, eyes aching from all the crying you did. wet strands of hair had clumped together, obscuring your view, perturbed by how sometimes your skin doesn't feel like yours.

“y/n?”

the bathroom starts to fog with mist, clouding the glass and mirrors, the water slowly scalding your skin. the call to sink down into the water and never come up are louder than ever.

“-y/n? are you in there?” a voice makes itself known. lifting yourself up a little bit, startled at the faintest sound of knocks.

you forget that minho would be home around this time. a hand flies towards your forehead to ease the pounding pain. shit, you haven't started making dinner.

it takes a while before you answer, collecting yourself as to not sound as shaky. “yeah! just finishing up, i'll be out in a sec.”

“don’t get out, i'll join you.” he yells back, the sound of padding feet against the wooden floors reverb through out the apartment. your eyes flicker at his sudden decision, causing you to sigh and sink down into the water once more.

as much as you adored and love him and how most days would let him join you with no hesitation, you silently hoped that he wouldn't today. you couldn't bear to let him see you in this state, all disheveled and puffy eyed. but it was rare when he was even home, given his grueling schedule.

so you wait for him patiently to come over to your shared bathroom, hugging your legs tightly. you remember to turn the cold tap on and off before he enters, water droplets filling in the silence.

when he finally creaks open the door with nothing on but a bathrobe and a silly cat headband that kept his hair away from his forehead on, you can't help but smile even if it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

you inch farther into the corner, making space for him quietly as he gets in. if he had noticed the temperature of the water that had yet to cool down, he made no attempt to comment.

the two of you don't say anything for the time being, just in each other's corner, relaxing and leaning your arms on the cool edge of the tub.

“you’re quiet.” his voice echoes. minho’s voice cuts through the silence, a stark contrast to the quietness of the bathroom just moments ago.

“i’m sorry.”

feeling minho’s heavy unwavering gaze into the side of your head, you can’t help but feel awful. you don’t mean to be so curt with him, but any more words from your mouth frightens you, afraid that the underlying shakiness of your voice will give you away.

your eyes still keep averting his, afraid of what expression he might bore. will he look at you with pity? with a tired gaze of disappointment?

he does not. instead, minho grabs one of the lavender scented shampoo bottles placed neatly on the shelf and gestures for you to turn around. you follow his request, albeit apprehensively, turning around.

“there we go.” he says. even if you refuse to meet his eyes, you could tell he was smiling as he said it.

minho takes great care to shampoo your hair, his blunt nails gently raking over your scalp, unknowingly soothing your dreadful headache. minho is observant, very much so. it doesn’t surprise you at all anymore when he suddenly asks.

“what’s wrong, hmm?” he finally says amidst the stillness of the atmosphere, tone dripping of comfort as his hands continue to lightly massage through your soapy tresses. you lean into it like a desperate cat, melting at his simple touch. oh how you've yearned for his touch.

although you don’t answer, his intuitive nature already knows that something was amiss.

“you know i’m always here for you.” minho says, pressing a delicate kiss on your shoulder. his sweet words and murmurs of comfort act like a salve to your aching heart as tears start to gather at your lash line once again.

you always hated making him worry.

the overwhelming emotion brings you to tears, immense guilt ebbing at your seams. minho places his head on your shoulder as you cry, hands running up and down your sides in an attempt to soothe you.

he doesn't deserve this, to be left out, to not know the reason you're so distant lately. he trusted you and you trusted him. so you spill every little thing to him.

voice starting to rasp, your stuttering cries now unrestraint without fear of judgement and just allowing yourself to be vulnerable. salty tears start to meld together with the water in the tub, rippling as they fall. at last, you feel lighter. the weight that you carried for so long in your heart doesn't have to be carried alone.

after a while, the hiccupping in your throat and the tears start to subside, leaving you a sniffling mess. turning around to finally face him, you fought the urge to hide in your hands.

"feel a little better now?" minho looks at you with nothing but a loving smile, no underlying judgement, just adoration, and one that makes you dive into him. you feel so utterly loved, what did you do to deserve him?

your arms wrap around his neck, placing apologetic kisses on his lips. he reciprocates, hands going around your back to steady your form. your mouth tumbles out watery apologies as he caresses the skin of your nape, gentle as he can.

you release him, arms still hooked around his neck, looking deeply into his eyes as if he's the center of the universe, and to you, he is. "i love you." the edges of your vision cloud with the tell tale signs of drowsiness, finally finding it in yourself to relax in his hold.

and he lets you, guiding your head to rest on his broad chest, the steady beats of his heart thumping against your temple, grounding you, his feathery light touches lingering.

feelings like these come and go, but minho is a constant that you keep close to your heart.

“thank you for putting up with me.”

"of course, i love you too."

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x you #skz imagines #lee know skz #stray kids angst #lee know angst #skz angst #skz x you

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hellvcifer · 9 days

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Hazbin Hotel x sad reader. Where the reader is just lying in their bed and hasn’t came out their room. And the Hazbin characters tries to give them comfort. If your not comfortable writing this then that’s totally fine 💗

RECLUSE— ଘ fic

pairing :: hazbin hotel residents x gn!reader wc :: 2.7k note :: hi there! i hope this is what you were looking for and brings you some comfort if you're feeling down. i wasn't sure which characters you were looking for specifically so i did a little of each for the main hotel crew. warnings :: reader is sad, isolation and pushing people away

“Good morning!” Charlie shouted, hands thrown in the air, a giant grin plastered on her face. “I have the per~fect morning planned for us. First, we’ll do our daily affirmations in our friendship circle, then we’ll try the trust fall exercises–this time without the egg boys–” her face wilted at the memory. Poor Tucker. “And then!” She immediately went back to her peppy-self, “I thought we could bake cookies!” She glanced at everyone who sat in the lounge area.

“Uh, we’re missing one.” Angel spoke, his body splayed across one of the couches as he casually scrolled through his phone.

“Y/N hassn’t come down yet.” Sir Pentious added, a few of the egg boys walking around him, seemingly playing a game.

“Oh!” Charlie looked confused for a moment, “Well, uh, that’s okay!” She walked over next to her girlfriend and sat down on the open seat of one of the couches. “We can wait.”

“I’m sure they’ll be down shortly.” Vaggie placed a hand on Charlie’s bouncy thigh to help ease her pent up excitement for the activities she had planned. All was fine until a few more minutes passed. Then those few minutes turned into thirty. Then thirty turned into an hour. Charlie and Vaggie shared a look.

“I’ll uh,” The princess stood, “I’ll just go check on them! To make sure everything is okay.” She nervously smiled before making her way to the stairs, Vaggie followed closely behind to accompany her.

“I’m sure everything’s perfectly fine.” She did her best to calm the blonde.

“You’re right!” Charlie smiled. “They probably just slept in a little. Nothing to worry about!” Once they reached your door, Charlie cleared her throat, adjusting her posture before knocking. A few raps of her knuckles on the dull door and nothing was heard in response. “Uh, Hello~! Wakey-wakey, Y/N!” A couple more knocks. “Are you in there?” Her question was hopeful though she couldn’t help the slip of concern. You had always been on time, happily participating in her exercises, and helping around the hotel. It was increasingly odd to not see you around. “Maybe they’re not at the hotel?” She turned to Vaggie.

The girl shook her head. “No one saw them leave.” The answer only caused Charlie to huff in a pout.

“Okay then.” She stood straight, eyes glimmering with determination. “If they won’t come out, then we’ll just go in!” She reached for the knob and grasped tightly.

“Wait, Charli–” The door was locked. She wiggled it a few more times, thinking maybe it was just stuck. The jostling grew more and more louder as she continued to try to open it. “Charlie, okay wait, stop.”

“Go away!” A muffled voice called from behind the door causing them both to pause. Your muffled voice.

“Y/N?” The blonde called out. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Please, just…” Your tone quieted. “Just leave.”

“Okay but I rea~lly think you should open the door! And we can talk! Or…” She nervously looked around, trying to come up with something. “Or~! you could join everyone downstairs! And we can, uh… We can…” She trailed off, eyes flitting to Vaggie.

“Maybe we should just give some space.” She suggested and Charlie sighed in response. Her head drooped.

“Yeah, okay.” They walked off, with more questions than answers, and worried expressions.

“I’m sure after today, things will be back to normal. Okay?” Vaggie side hugged Charlie.

Inside your room you laid in your bed. Everything felt heavy, swallowed up in darkness. You let the blankets cocoon you in their warmth as you lie there, unmoving. Unmotivated. Drowning in the gray clouds of your mind. Surely, a few days like this and you’d be out of your funk.

Nothing really put you there to begin with but you felt yourself becoming low-spirited over the past week. That morning, you knew it was impossible to get out of bed. You sunk further and further into the springed mattress, the lumps now cradling you and your sorrows. You heaved out a deep breath. Just a few days. And maybe, this dark storm will have passed.

“It’s been four days!” Charlie worriedly paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “And after all we’ve been through together I think it’s time we step in!”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sweetie.” Vaggie stood up, walking closer and placing a comforting hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. “When you ask to be left alone, sometimes you just gotta leave them alone.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m with toots over there.” Angel gestured to Charlie, walking over with a drink in his hand. “I get wanting to shut out for a few days but not this long.” He leaned on the back of the couch.

“Perhapss they’re in need of ssome assistance?” Pentious’ tongue peaked out to end his words.

“Good idea, boss!” One of his egg boys shouted from the ground.

Charlie’s face lit up, eyes widening upon hearing his words. “It’s a GREAT idea!” She turned towards everyone, hands held out in excitement.

“No, Charlie!” Vaggie grabbed both her hands. “We already tried that and got told to leave.”

“Yeah, but that was you two.” Husk added, “And we know how you like to handle things.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes, “It means you don’t know how to read the situation.”

Vaggie was glaring at him fiercely when Angel straightened his back, “You know what, Kitty’s right.” He got closer. “Why don’t we try our hands at talking. Figure something from us might make ‘em feel better.”

“But the door’s locked.”

“Eh,” Angel waved his two right hands. “We’ll get 'em to open it.” He began walking to the stairs, Husk close behind him.

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Husk asked.

“Oh, I got an idea.” He flashed a look before leading the bartender to his room. He made a short pit stop to pick up fat nuggets and then they made it to your room. A few knocks on your door and they were only answered with silence.

“Hey Y/N~!” Angel called out. “You know, it’s been so lonely without you around and I have someone here that’s been dying to see you!” As if on queue, nuggets made two cute squeals of delight.

“Really?” Husk narrowed his eyes at Angel. “You’re bribing them with the pig?”

Angel snapped to look at him. “Hey! Everyone loves this pig!” He sharply spoke in a low tone.

“Leave me alone!” They both snapped to stare at your door.

“We brought booze?” Angel tried again, suggesting Husk’s bottle of whiskey. Which may not have been the best idea considering the slow turn the cat gave him. Entirely offended with his mouth open.

“I don’t want your stupid cheap alcohol!” Why… You rolled your eyes, turning away from the door, Why! “Or your pig!” Why are you saying these things? “Just go! Away!” Your chest was filled with an abnormal pressure as you threw the blanket over your head, water brimming your eyes. You muffled the sobs into your pillow. Why are you feeling like this?

Angel and Husk left defeatedly, entering the lobby similar to how Vaggie and Charlie did the first time. Husk went behind the bar, not wanting to talk and Angel laid down on the red couch.

“Well?” Charlie almost knew the answer already but hoped for something better.

“Got nothing.” Angel moped. “Bribed ‘em with Nuggets and booze.” He turned to look at the group. “Nothing’ll work if we can’t get passed the door.”

“Then we must bring the show inside!” The radioed voice was cascading throughout the room as he appeared in the lounge area. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, he crossed his legs. “Sometimes a little jazz is all you need to reignite the light.”

“Oh no! No, no, no!” Vaggie was quick to stand in, “We can’t just invade their privacy!” She turned to the group. “I care for Y/N as much as all of you, but sometimes you need to respect them wanting space.”

“But aren’t you two the oness telling uss to be there for our friendss?” Pentious asked. “How can we comfort them by giving them sspace?”

“It’s called boundaries.” Her hands assisted the assertion of her words.

“Uh, Yeah, boundaries.” Angel mocked, “Smiles is gone by the way.” He pointed to the now empty seat as everyone snapped their heads to it. Vaggie slapped her hands to her face, letting out a frustrated groan.

Charlie nervously laughed before clasping her hands together. “Oh no.”

Alastor rose from murky obsidian shadows, revealing his everlasting sinister grin. His eyes slid over to the bed, brow raised once he saw a cluster of blankets. He spun his mic, walking over and waving his hand. The unused fireplace was suddenly lit and crackling, causing you to jolt.

“The fuck–?”

“Why Hello!” The sudden radioed cadence was all you needed to hear. You rolled your eyes. “Closing away like this is no way to present yourself!” He leaned forward. You noticed the soft soothing trill of jazz in the background, no doubt brought on by the man beyond your blanket barrier. “Where’s the joy in being locked away in this room?”

“Will you just–” You hastily uncovered yourself and sat up. “Get out!” The glow of the flames flickered against your skin as you sought out the intruder.

“Don’t you look swell!” His incessant grin was accompanied with an overt blink. You groaned, forcefully lying back down in a huff against your pillow. Glared glued to the ceiling.

“Why can’t anyone understand that I want to be left alone!”

Alastor walked over to the fire, a chair and an end table appeared with a cup of coffee. He took a seat and grabbed his cup. “Why be alone when there’s so much to do outside!”

You released a heavy sigh. “What’s the point…” Your voice came out in a strained whisper. Throat knotting as you struggled to swallow away your swollen tongue.

Al took a sip from his mug, “My my, what a depressing thing you are! I’m nearly getting flashbacks.”

“Alastor…” You felt your eyebrow twitch, “With every single drop of the draining patience I have left. Get. The fuck. Out.”

Your words had zero effect on him, “But I’m here to help, my friend!”

“Oh please.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re saying you’re here because you care?”

He laughed, “Oh dear, no!” He set his drink down and stood up, “Being a witness to you drowning in your sorrows is quite entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Then why are you here?”

“I’m merely a parrot to our constituents! The worry over your newfound reclusion has become the talk of the town! I wanted to see it for myself.” He walked closer. “But by all means, continue your isolation! Watching the others scurry about with concern and become defeated time after time again is delightful! It’s not as if it’s hurting anyone…” His eyes slid towards you, his smile filtering to that of a smirk. “Including yourself.” He melded into the floor, the fire and music extinguishing with his exit.

Now alone in the thickened darkness, the silence of your own thoughts gnawing into the corners of your mind. Hurting. Were you really hurting them? That wasn’t anything close to what you wanted. Staying in your room. Locked away. That was supposed to be the solution until you felt better. Somewhat better. Just… Different than how you were feeling now.

But the days don’t feel different at all. If anything, the mucky feeling only cemented itself further within your chest. You felt it begin to sink, the thought of everyone trying to break through to you brought that welling feeling back. And you just yelled at them. You yelled at the only people trying to show you kindness.

The tears pooled over the edge, racing down your face. Everything released from within, the melancholic storm brewed over the past few days erupted. Your thunderous cries echoed throughout the dark room.

After a few more whales you finally simmered down to a low whine, taking deep breaths to relieve yourself. It wasn’t a cure-all but you were finally able to gain some bearings. You grabbed your blanket and stood up, wrapping it around your figure. That damn radio head may have had a point after all. You released another long-winded breath and began making your way to your door.

The hallway walls were a sight for sore eyes, you pupils dilating as soon as you stepped out of your room. The heavy feeling in your lungs felt like it was building once again as you journeyed to the lobby. What would you say to them? Would they even want to talk to you? You stopped walking. What if they’re mad at you? You closed your eyes, shaking your head before continuing. You committed to this. No backing out now.

You finally made it to the top of the stairs that descended into the lobby. The blanket around your body felt like it was nearly constricting you with how tight you had it pulled. You sniffled quietly, eyes scanning the area and finally seeing them crowded around the old TV for movie night.

Shuffling closer, you found that watching your feet take each small step closer made you less scared to address them. As soon as Vaggie caught sight of you, she paused the movie, elbowing Charlie and nodding towards you. Everyone soon followed her line of sight.

The silence signaled it was finally time to say something. An overwhelming heat pulsed throughout your body, ending within your cheeks.

“I…” the tears began bubbling the rim of your eyes. “I don’t know why I said those things. I don’t k-know why I’m feeling like this. I just feel… I feel sad, and I don’t know why!” Everything broke once again, large drops cascading down your cheeks endlessly as you began to cry. You used your blanket to wipe away the trails.

Charlie and Angel stood up immediately, coming to your side and embracing you. “It’s okay, Y/N.” The blonde softly consoled. “You don’t have to be happy all the time! And you never need a reason to be sad.”

“Sometimes, we just feel sad. And that’s okay.” Angel spoke, his voice mellow and comforting. “Just share the sadness with us so you’re not alone, okay?”

“Yeah, and we’re always going to be here for you.” Vaggie stood and took a few steps closer.

“Come now,” Alastor gestured with his hand. “Join us while we continue watching this terrible picture show!”

“Yess! Come, come.” Pentious patted the middle seat of the couch as everyone awaited your answer.

A surge of warmth blossomed throughout your body as you stared at them. Ever so gently, your lips pulled upward as you slowly nodded. They returned it before directing you to sit. Angel sat on the other side of you while Charlie returned to sit down with Vaggie and Niffty.

Pentious bent down to the ground and scooped up three of his egg boys and held them close. He leaned over to you, holding one out as an offer. Simon, the egg boy, opened his arms up towards you, awaiting to be held. You gently cradled him against you and smiled.

“This feels much better.” Charlie hummed, cuddled up with Vaggie. Your head fell onto Angel’s shoulder as you released a sigh. Even though you aren’t feeling a hundred percent all the time, at least you're surrounded by those who care about you.

A beamy eye popped into your line of sight. “I made you this.” Niffty shot out her hand, a dead roach was disassembled and strung into a necklace. You flashed a strained smile. It really was the thought that counted.

“Thanks, Nifft.” She flitted back to her spot with a happy giggle and hearing it made you sigh in content. You glanced around the room, seeing everyone watching the movie.

Yeah, this really was much better.

likes and reblogs appreciated !! ♡

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #angel dust x reader #vaggie x reader #sir pentious x reader #hazbin hotel x gn!reader

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suguruplsr · 3 months

Note

Suguru & Kento have been rotting my brain lately.

Can we get a writing about Geto, Y/N, and Nanami?

I feel like Nanami is definitely a soft Dom, but he isn't afraid to up the anti if you try to play with him too much. And Suguru is just already with it and just loves the face you make when you're tapped out. But both of them together? Good luck to Y/N

GIVE HER THAT V-DAY STUFFING

✰ — who needs a husband for valentines when you have two perfectly good men to use?

,, royale au + masquerade ball , duke!nanami x countess!reader x knight!geto .

, mention of an age gap relationship (npc + reader, she doesn’t like him + more) , infidelity (reader) , use of a lot of pet names , degrading + use of “slut” , finger sucking + fingering , oral (f) , nipple play + sucking , unprotected , u take both at once , not proofread .

wc: 4.3k

divider @/hitobaby

ah, an ever growing holiday was brewing in the cerulean nation on the 14th of february, as it was— ahem, is, becoming the day of love and kindness. celebrated by the prince himself with an annual masquerade ball.

“for he has no shame..” you mutter, adjusting your arm and fully holding up the lilac masquerade mask adorning your face. your husband, a count. who was of course, invited to the annual masquerade ball hosted by the prince of the nation, soon to be king. what was his name again? gojo something.. toru? no, close. but you can’t be bothered to remember his name when his personal knight, a highly respected and dangerous man, is staring at you from across the ball room.

your husband cocks a brow, “is something the matter, love? ” he whispers, leaning closer and trying to glance at whatever was bothering you. but you quickly bring his face towards you, a purple gloved finger beneath his chin. and of course, you wear that washed up and over-used smile as a blush settles onto his expression. “it’s nothing but some admirers. don’t worry your head.” you coo, standing up from the table and smoothing out your violet gown. cute and tight with a slit on your right leg, not to far up, just above your knee, classy enough to look good but simple enough for you to dance.

“would you like to dance? we wouldn’t want to bore all night..” you sigh, yet the sweet dull man refuses, abiet discreet, but still giving the impression of you casted aside as you walk among the crowds with no destination in mind. you can’t stand that heartless man! always isolated in work, so he could be noticed by the arrogant family ruling this very nation. even if it’s clearly a carefree party, stupid man. no wonder he’s brain dead and clueless to your suggestive advances, acting like a cute little virgin, despite his mature age. if he was going to marry some younger noble for better power, then he should at least have some abilities within his inventory! but oh, you aren’t surprised, especially with how difficult it is for him to please you after he’s done being abstinent for fives months in a row—

the cursing in your head, and clicking of your heels is stopped by a warm hand on your shoulder, quite familiar. but a frown forms out of frustration as the duke circles your figure to face you, your stunned expression under the accessory making the masked, decorated in yellow flowers and gold jewels, man smile, almost coyly. but you wouldn’t think of a man of his caliber to act like that sly fox from earlier. “oh.. duke nanami..” your voice wavers in slight confusion, holding up your dress a little and giving him a partial bow. the blonde shakes his head dismissively, gazing at you with more passion than your husband ever has.

“we speak of no names during this time, remember? countess.” you curse yourself as he chuckles lowly, flushed from your obliviousness, despite holding the wood of the very reason why you’re not allowed to say names. “ah, a slip on my part. i just feel so obligated to greet a dear friend of mines.” you recover, shame slowly leaving you as small conversation forms, him asking about your husband before questioning your recent endeavors, a sweet man indeed, but he’s as alluring as that man, nonetheless.

you don’t know when, but one of nanami’s arms eventually slipped around your waist, him behind you as he guides you to the many dancing figures around the ballroom as a slower song, compared to the awful music earlier, plays. “may i?” he whispers with a low timber in voice, lips beside your ear. you grip the decorative wood attached to your mask firmly, swallowing down the thick feeling rising within you as you hesitate. you couldn’t care less about your husband, more so the eyes directed towards you. perhaps you’ve gained some of his tendencies when it comes to public image.

but it’s just a little dance between friends, in a place meant for such activities. who’d question that? well.. other than the much older noble women with positions lower than yours, speaking over tea weekly as they reminisce about their past selves, wallowing in hatred.

you nod, “i would love too, but my mask isn’t one with straps.” you sigh. you did sacrifice your arm so you could keep your perfectly managed hair intact. but that seems to not be a problem for the man as he slips his off without a problem, “then we both can stay like this while we enjoy our night..” his hand reaches for your mask, smiling when you lend it to him, watching as he puts the two accessories in the pocket of his white vest. “if that’s okay with you?” his charm has you fighting a grin, eyes crinkling in amusement while he subtly admires the features of your face.

“i have no choice then.” you sigh, faux exasperation within your voice as you place a hand up onto his shoulder, “and i must say, my color makes you look dashing.” you poke at the violet mask poking out his pocket. that was no lie, the light shade of purple does well with his white and yellow scheme. “oh? i’ll consider your.. tastes more often.” nanami chuckles, his hands finding your hips, your bodies swiftly joining among the movement of others.

you two sway in perfect harmony with the rest, all thoughts of your face shown gone, and more focused on the hazel eyes that gazes at you adoringly. “i guess your earlier suggestion calls for an outing, no? i’d love to show you the many dresses i prefer.” you tease with a grin, gripping his shoulder a bit tighter as he sighs, a soft smile on his lips. “i hope im not the model for your trivial cloths, however..” his eyes drip down as he twirls you, taking the second to indulge in his more.. disrespectful fantasies.

you’re a married woman, he reminds himself.

but not a pleased one.

nanami, feels like one of those sleazy men at the round table, using excuses to have women with rocks and diamonds on their pretty little fingers, in the confines of their homes and secretly turning them away from their husbands. only to leave them on their own once the time comes of divorce, thinking they’d be treated lavishly in all types of ways with such notorious men.

oh but he wouldn’t do that to you, all pretty and daring. a woman with a spunk in her that never lets out. stubborn, he thinks. you just need the right person to lay you down and just fuck —

“well, the time of the ache in my feet and the horrendous song are parallel. a break please?” you look over at the artists disappointedly, blaring trumpets that did not suit well together, overcoming the sweet tunes of the pianist whose blues you adore. “of course, over here my lady.” nanami mutters, holding your hand and walking you off the ball floor. you two walk among the white clothed tables, chatter and hold light around you as you near what you presume to be nanami’s spot of interest, considering the familiar faces.

“would you like a drink?” nanami smiles as he pulls out a chair for you, setting your masks on the silk covering the small table as you get yourself comfortable. “an apple cider would be most appreciated, thank you.” you hum, feeling his fingers almost struggle to slip away from your hand before he goes. “of course..” he whispers, walking away to the large table across the giant ball room, which held the drinks and was lined up with staff of the royal family.

you sigh, almost dreamily, as you take time to recall the past moments. the charming man danced so eloquently that it was almost hard for you to keep up. but, you don’t really have outings like this often, so you’ll go easy on yourself for once.

you smooth out your dress, unconsciously looking up ahead. and just like that, your brief tranquility disappeared as annoyance seeped into you. all from the sight of that dark haired man.

geto suguru.

the damned man whose eyes have yet to leave your form all night. and the very man who strutted towards you with an air of superiority and cockiness. you hold your tongue, glaring hard as he takes the seat across from you that belongs to the beloved man who was here seconds ago. “such a.. roaring, attitude you have there my lady. but i couldn’t help but notice your beauty from across—“ you cut him off with a scoff, “cut it, geto.” you say sternly, holding back the harsh tone of your voice so no one would hear, or question who would dare have the audacity of speaking to such a respected individual like that.

oh but you do.

a hidden rivalry between the two of you has existed since the first ball the prince had ever hosted. at that time, you were but a fiance with no name for herself, hidden in the shadow of your husband and following behind him mindlessly. to which only the ever heart-stopping suguru interrupted, sneaking you into a little game of things you shouldn’t be doing. a game you play every year on the one fateful day you don’t wear that costly meaningless ring. it’d crude the outfit, you’d say every morning of every 14th of the month of kindness and love.

and that dumb man would believe it everytime.

but the thoughts of your husband are washed away as you shamelessly eye fuck the man in front of you. his thick noire hair pulled up into a ponytail, with his usual bangs left out, which makes him all the more attractive you think. he’s adorned in a basic black and white suit with a black mask that holds gems and dusted glitter. it baffles you how little effort he needs to look so beautiful, those small sunset-like eyes glimmering under the shining lights.

“where’s all that class gone my love?” suguru chuckles, leaning forward and resting his chin on the palm of his hand. you roll your eyes deciding to not respond and cross your arms.

suguru examines the expression on your face, all riled up for nothing. perhaps that dimwit husband of yours had and argument with you? maybe, he thinks. but a churning fills his stomach from the memory of you dancing with the duke earlier. good man. suguru unconsciously licks his lips from the exposure of your neck. nah, nanami wouldn’t be able to handle a sweet thing like you.

“my eyes are up here.” you say abruptly, clicking your tongue as heat rushes through you from his shameless staring, again. but the man bears no care for your words, sitting back in his chair and cocking his head. you can already read what he must be feeling, a man in slacks only ever spreads for one reason and one alone.

and with how.. big that reason is, you can only bite your bottom lip in anticipation, unfortunately, already thinking of ways to get away from nanami to speak of this reason with the man in front of you.

“i know sweetheart, just scoping my target.”

“you are so corny, please don’t ever say that again.”

“just military talk, my love.”

“to be sensual? it’s surprising how skilled you are in other things.”

suguru gives you a boasting laugh from your unamused responses, a grin sitting on those pretty lips of his. “yea, i’m sure you know all about those skills baby.” he speaks lowly, making you fight a flustering smile from the light giddiness in you. sometimes you forget how he pulls you into a state of calmness, like talking to someone closer than a friend.

well, considering you trust him with your body, more than your own husband, he’s pretty close.

but you’ve also seemed to forget the environment you two are in, as a filled glass cup is placed in front of you, a golden bracelet dangling on his wrist, “i didn’t know we were sharing our seats with another.” nanami holds his scoff, as the annoyed tone in his voice speaks enough to the two of you. suguru doesn’t appear to care, as he gestures to a free table, “i’m sure you can wait while the lady and i finish conversing, you—“

“i did tell you it was his seat.” you mock with a lie, gaining a faux flash of hurt from suguru as nanami groans. just one night with you was all he wanted, but of course, that womanizer just had to get to you. but he knows of the look in suguru’s eyes, one he harbors just for you. “so you decided to not listen to her? how.. shameful.” nanami tsks under his breath, avoiding the looks from an approaching couple as he swiftly steals a chair from the unoccupied table.

with suguru in front of you, and nanami on your right, you feel overwhelmed as tension rises, burning it down with the fizzy drink, but nanami’s next words almost makes you spit it out. “before you run off with that home wrecker, maybe you should worry about that husband of yours.” how did he know about you and suguru? shit, maybe you two haven’t been as discreet as you thought you were.

you didn’t even acknowledge the last part of of sentence, well you could care less, but you’re too embarrassed with your infidelity being recognized, “hm? oh— …he’s not lying sweetheart,” suguru pulls off his mask, setting it on the table and looking over at the direction of your earlier seating, catching a glimpse of your husband being sweet talked by some brunette, “seems he’s into even.. younger woman..” his voice falls into disgust, as he’s reminded of how your marriage started.

you were sent away to be wedded off just a few days after your 20th birthday, being a fiance for nearly two years until the 30 something year old man had finally taken interest in his relationship after being questioned by the queen. during that time, you had met the knight as a friend since he was somewhat around your age. well of course, that friendship grew over that small span of time.

and now, you’re pushing your late 20’s, your experience repeating itself.

“how disgusting.” nanami mutters, turning his head away to see your reaction. but you simply shrug, deciding to memorize the woman’s looks. you’ll warn her about the man later. “he can have his fun for now. but at the moment..” you sigh exasperatedly, looking at the two men with a needy look. “i think i’ve waited long enough, no?” your eyes flicker over to suguru’s, who smiles dangerously standing up and patting the dukes shoulder as he walks over to take your hand, you follow him.

“let us show you how we spend valentine’s.” he purrs. despite his morals, the blonde follows, only three masks left behind as evidence.

a empty unused room was the choice for this year. but the shimmering lights and porcelain all look the same, maybe you and suguru have been in here before.

the said man was on his knees, embracing the scent of your cunt while nanami was beside you holding, your now somewhat undressed, body against the wall with his lips over taking yours. “so pretty,” the blonde murmurs, holding your face by your chin as he kisses you passionately, but you can feel his fervor from how sensitive suguru’s breath on your panties make you. he kisses the ever growing wet spot on them, his tongue immediately laying flat as your thighs shake a little.

you moan into nanami’s mouth as his hands begin to pull at your nipples, grinding into suguru’s mouth, annoyed from the teasing of tongue. to which he clearly enjoys, from the vibration of his mouth to your pussy, a chuckle rumbling from his chest. “eager, huh?” nanami quips, amused, his open mouth kisses begin to trail to your neck, suguru’s fingers pull aside your underwear and the men finally work in tandem to give you what you want.

“mhm, just wanna come for once in my life.” you joke, impatience bristling among your tone, making suguru roll his eyes from between your legs, kissing your folds as one of his large hands push your thigh to fill the open space. “won’t hafta’ think about that tonight..” he huffs, his last words before his mouth began to suck onto your clit, making your back arch. but nanami redirects you, caring little for the triggered nerves in you as his own lips latch onto one of your breasts while he rolls your free nub under his finger.

your quiet moans fill the dimmed room as the men enjoy your body, all to give you a fresh high you haven’t experienced for so long. your thighs shake around suguru’s face once his tongue is inserting inside you, nanami’s groping and kisses making you all the more sensitive to them. you try your best to remind yourself of the hundreds of people downstairs, even the presence of the royal family on the floor above you. but the duke clearly isn’t satisfied with you trying to hide your sounds.

why not give you a better alternative?

his fingers clutch your face tight, words spurring together from your bunched up lips as he looks down at you, “open.” nanami whispers, letting go lightly, watching you obey, “good girl.” his praise goes straight down to your pussy, closing your eyes as you throb, taking his thick digits in your mouth while suguru’s tongue flicks around your folds. he eats you out like his life depends on it, sucking and kissing the gummy area with periodic smacks of his lips, nose deep. the way he was practically inhaling your pussy had his dick straining in his pants.

you almost choke on the fingers, bringing a hand up to nanami’s chest as he forces you to suck. your hums vibrate on his fingers, spit forming and your whimpers muffled as you wet suguru’s face. “sweet baby.” nanami coos, holding back a groan from the sight of tears beginning to prickle the corners of your eyes. suguru hums beneath you, nails digging into the plush of your thighs as your stomach coils, mind turning into mush as the men overstimulate you.

your body reacts heavily, unfamiliar with the simulations and you try to thrash around, spit drooling along nanami’s fingers as his mouth latches back onto your nipples, popping on the buds while suguru’s hand on your panties goes to your cunt, frustrated with the fabric but too hungry for your cunt to move them. he finally moves his head away from your thighs with a small gasp for air, a sick look on his face with the bottom of his mouth covered in slick. he quickly angles two big fingers in your cunt, curling them to make you break apart for the men to see.

“she looks like a fuckin’ slut.” suguru teases, licking your juices off his lips as you whine on nanami’s fingers, bucking into the ‘come hither’ movement of the digits inside you. the blonde pulls away from you with a pop of your nipple, “such foul language use for a lady like her,” nanami tuts, eyeing your puffy and ruined lips, “gonna cum for us? you can do it..” he smiles. his praises take you to cloud nine, mewling as your pussy throbs a beat from the way suguru presses the pads of his fingers deep in you.

you finally cum with a loud indistinct moan around nanami’s fingers, painting suguru’s white as your eyes roll back with tremors in your body. your orgasm makes you look so gorgeous to the two men, body shined in sweat and simply falling apart for them.

suguru pulls his fingers away, “can’t wait to feel you, fuck.” he whispers, immediately putting his slimey digits in his mouth, taking all he can of your sweet taste. your pussy looks almost battered, gooey and as puffy as your lips as cum soaks your messy undies. which he pulls down, helping you step out of them and sneaking them away as nanami allows you to open your mouth, bringing his wet fingers to grope your chest, the flesh spilling between his fingers.

“i’m sure you can take us both baby.” suguru parts from your pussy with a pat on your thighs, standing tall. mind slowly coming into focus, you look up at him with a frown, “what— no i can’t. you’ll break me.” you huff, slapping his chest as he shrugs. “stretch my love, we’ll stretch you. just don’t move too much, kay?”

his dangerous grin makes you turn away, looking up at nanami for help.

“you’ll be fine darling.” nanami disregards your pleading look with a smile, almost taking pleasure in the way your expression falls, huffing under your breath and complying with a reluctant ‘okay’. you stand still as the men undress, watching them without a care.

“the ladies weren’t wrong about you.” suguru blurts, examining the quite muscular build the duke has, almost similar to his own. but it surprises the knight considering how lean he looked underneath all that clothing. “don’t stare.” nanami throws him a glance as he kicks away his pants, both men fully bare to the cold air. suguru shakes his head with a smile as the other stands in front of you, him taking place behind you.

“c’mere.” suguru mumbles close to your ear, pulling you flush against his skin by your waist. he kisses below it as nanami greets you with a soft look, hands going below your thighs. “just let us do all the work.” he smiles, kissing the middle of your chest. which you’ve now guessed to be his favorite place.

somehow, the men were able to stuff their way in your pussy, holding you up with ease as groans revertibrated around the room. their cocks brushed together inside you, gummy walls clenching around them with its own heartbeat as you cried from the pain, and soon the pleasure.

“p-please— god, just move already.” you sob into nanami’s neck after five minutes of adjusting, your body too worked up to handle the stillness anymore.

your words make the two men give broken chuckles, “don’t cry if it hurts.” nanami mutters, giving the man behind you a look. and they both begin to slowly rock into you, breaths heavy and gasps leaving their lips as their fingers dig into your skin, holding your body tightly still.

suguru’s head falls onto your shoulder, letting his low groans reach your ears better as his hair tickles. “so fuckin’ tight, gotta loosen up baby.” you bite your lip from his words. it’s not like you can control it, they just feel so good. one of his hands goes up to your hickey covered chest, griping one of your tits. “might have to fuck her through it.” nanami groans. he couldn’t take it anymore, although he isn’t fond of the fox-like man, the way their tips rub in the home of your cunt has him fighting the need to rut in your cunt.

“thought you were treating her like glass.” suguru hums, pinching the nipple between his fingers, making a whine erupt from you. “i can handle it!” you begin to tear up, feeling suguru’s tongue lap up the small salty drops, “yea?” “yeah..” your meek response makes the two men adjust you just a bit higher, no words spoken between them, but moving together at the same time to fuck you with all their might.

you try to hinder your screams by biting down on your lip, but that does nothing, as the feeling of the two cocks hitting your insides is too good, you just hope you don’t get caught in such a state. head thrown back and slutting yourself out for the two men like some common whore.

you held onto nanami’s shoulders as suguru’s thrusts become harsh, his feet planted on the floor to fuck into you. nanami begins to match his pace, holding you up while suguru’s hands claw at your waist sloppily, too lost in the feeling of your messy pussy. “i know you feel it, c’mon, you can do it.” nanami speaks breathlessly, his perfectly styled hair beginning to stick to his forehead as he leans his head back. you nod your head mindlessly, throat sore and stomach turning.

“might just— f-fucking fill ‘er up.. sure that husband of yours won’t mind right, princess? definitely can’t handle ya like we do.” suguru’s nearly growls in your ear, biting on your neck as the deep smells of their cologne’s take over your senses. his words get to your head, and you feel like you’re melting into putty, reaching your high with each rock of their cocks, their tips hitting that spot inside you that hasn’t felt anythitng for so long.

“y-yea, wanna feel you two..” you can’t say the rest of your words, already too humiliated with the mere thoughts of their hot and ready cum spilling inside you, a married woman, and possibly getting you pregnant.

nanami grits his teeth, pushing into you, “say it baby, promise we’ll get you full if you do.” “yeah, we’ll stuff you all you want.” suguru follows, and their cocks move together as they pound you, a ring forming at their bases. “please, i wanna feel y’r cum.” you squeeze your eyes tight, body shuddering as the two men begin to kiss on your body, leaving marks that show your pussy isn’t the only thing they’re taking for grabs.

your mind swirls, limp in their arms with a cry as you cum on their cocks. your ears ring, a satisfied flow running through you as you feel spurts of cum filling you up, the men stilling inside you at the hilt to stuff you full. but your shared substances dribble down their dicks, slowly staining the perfect floors with evidence of your nasty actions.

from the cracked open door, a pair of wide eyes stare at the lewd sight, shocked. but too scared to say a single thing as his own jeans form a tent. a young brunette woman sneaks up the stairs seeing the man down the hall; her companion for the night. she notices a fallen ring beside his shoes.

“is something wrong?”

“ahem, it’s uh, nothing, let us return.”

412 notes · View notes

cometkenji · 28 days

Text

the warm spot at the bottom of the stairs

Pairing: Ghost!Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!Reader CW: Fluff, Mild Angst, Soulmate AU, reader has dreams, mentions of sex/masturbation, mentions of death, cursing, reader feels like she knows him but they've never met, let me know if I missed anything please! Summary: After inheriting your grandfather's estate, you fall in love with the man from your dreams. He just so happens to be in your house, too. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but in this she's literally not described aside from the fact that she has hips, a stomach, and legs on her body. WC: 9k (this is what happens when you let a man cook) This fic is genuinely my baby. I love soulmate aus with all my heart and soul and also love the dynamic of falling in love with a ghost. Enjoy this please, I tried <3

You swore the heat radiating off the sidewalk was enough to melt the soles of your shoes down to liquid. The sun was unforgivably angry today, glaring down at the world like it had a score to settle. You were less than thankful, as the death of your grandfather had stolen any desire you once held for warmth. The brutal dichotomy of the cold pit sitting in your stomach and the burning heat of the day only added to the sour taste in your mouth.

This house was fucking huge.

You had no idea how your grandfather managed to hide such an enormous investment from everyone in his life but he’d managed the task seamlessly. Nobody even knew what he was giving you at first. The reading of the will and testimony left nothing but confused relatives until they had found the address that marked the estate. Some were jealous of you, some were confused, some even asked if they could come live with you once you got settled in. You had been absolutely floored when you learned he’d given you a house. Being fresh out of university, you were moving on to grad school while simultaneously preparing yourself to live with your mother until you could afford anything besides student debt payments.

Now though, you had a castle, with no clue why a house this big was given to you of all people. You were your grandpa’s only grandchild and were by far one of the least deserving of such a generosity. Sure, you were close, but never abnormally close. You talked once a week on the phone and were glued to his side at family gatherings - but he saw your aunt everyday, and spoke with your mother much more than he ever did you. Was it pity? Maybe he saw this as the only plausible way of you escaping the fate of leeching off your mother. Hopefully he didn’t think of you so lowly.

You mentally cursed at the dull ache in your legs that persisted even after stretching. You had been driving all day with a car packed full of stuff that needed to be hauled into the house, and only yourself to move said stuff. You said a short plea in your head to not let the pain hinder your speed and began walking into the house to view the inside. The estate was isolated, huge fences of greenery surrounded the place, adding to the pleasant sight of budding flowers throughout the front yard. Even without the towering hedges, though, the nearest neighbor was miles away. Great, you thought. Any concerns of your car being robbed while you were gone were extinguished as quick as they came, but you locked the car regardless. Force of habit.

The heat was only lessened slightly when you reached the interior. You made a mental note to get the A.C. turned on, no way a temperature like this was a liveable one. You’re sure the numerous floor-to-ceiling windows were the culprit. They were excessive. Beautiful - of course - and you were thrilled at the amount of light they let in, but you could basically see the heatwaves permeating through the stained glass. Your eyes caught on the odd choice. The slightly colored glass making the mansion feel mildly like a church, the thought coming to you quickly and stripping any of the minimal comfort you held moments prior. That’s weird, you thought. Your grandpa had never been particularly religious. He was a man of faith - said grace before dinner and thanked Jesus for every day he lived, but never to this extent. He was rather progressive for a man his age.

The kitchen could have easily fit a team of 12 and you wondered if there had been staff at one point. There was no sign of any employees, and you prayed there weren’t any left working. The last thing you wanted was more responsibility in your life. You took your time walking the house, marveling at every painting and polished chandelier that was now an asset of yours. The house was gorgeous, you’d give at least that much to the old man. The centerpiece, of course, was the large spiral staircase leading to the second floor. As large as the house was, it held only two stories. Getting it’s square footage from length, rather than width. It was equally as glamorous as the house it resided in, however it filled you with a certain devastation you couldn’t place. As though your most primal self rejected the idea of it. That’s silly, you thought. You wanted to go upstairs, you were definitely not avoiding half of your house because a couple of your neck hairs stood at attention. The only real peculiarity was the heat pooling at the very bottom of the staircase. The kind of heat that seemed to thread itself into you, intertwine itself with your very being. The rest of the house was cold and accusatory, if your grandfather ever did live here, any of his warmth was flushed out by his death. This was the only spot in the whole house you felt calm, cared for. You could bask in it, weirdly fascinated with the little pocket of humanity that sat there.

It was more difficult than you’d expected to pull yourself out of it, and you could have sworn you felt arms trying to pull you back in. Ten minutes into your new life and you were already on edge. Negative feelings didn’t seem to penetrate the spot at the bottom of the stairs, so you physically felt the wave of unease when it struck you upon exiting. The upstairs was creepy. The abundance of windows was apparently only a trend on the first floor, as the second floor held dark, dim hallways. The whole thing, it seemed, was lit up by ancient lamps that lined the walls. It reminded you of the Shining, and you wondered briefly if maybe your mother would let you move back in. There was a bedroom right near the staircase, and you decided it would be yours. It could have been the smallest one for all you knew, the only thing you cared about was a quick escape if such a thing was needed. Something about the house put thoughts like that at the front of your mind.

You don’t recall ever being a paranoid person, nor a believer in the supernatural, but this house was watching you. The feeling of eyes on you was simply too strong to write off. What a warm welcome.

—

It had been a week, but the nights so far had been sleepless ones. The people you called on day one were just now getting around to starting the A.C. so you were hoping for a decent rest tonight. The fridge was stocked, your things mainly unpacked, and the house started feeling a little more like you with each day. Although, your friends were more or less convinced there was a ghost living with you. You spoke of the feelings you had, plus the fact it was an old and mildly creepy house, and they were off and running with theories. One of the tamer ones consisted of the house being an old church - given the windows - and that the eyes you were feeling were perhaps an old priest who died here. You were less than fond of that idea, but you would take it any day to the other propositions of old mental hospitals and certain death. You made a mental note to never again let your friends speculate on situations you couldn’t get out of.

You argued that a malevolent spirit wouldn’t invoke such a comforting sense within you. You felt watched - yes - but it wasn’t as though you felt stalked. It was much worse, actually, you felt lonely. Loneliness was never a battle you fought very hard in. You had hobbies, and you had friends. The desire for a romantic companion usually took the back burner if it was even a thought at all. People questioned the topic - you were pretty, smart, capable - what more could somebody want? They asked if you were insecure, if you liked girls, told you that you were wasting your “prime years” and needed to find someone - but it was never that simple. You just didn’t get it. The feelings others spoke of were unfamiliar ones to you. You held your breath for a long time before realizing that it probably just wasn’t for you, that you were built a little differently.

Needless to say, you were uncomfortable with the sudden sensation. It felt like seeing the moon in a glass jar - something unfathomably beautiful but something you were unable to hold. Lord knows it wasn’t from a lack of desire, though. You’re sure you reeked of longing, able to suppress the lot of it but unable to stop some from slipping through the cracks of your fingers. And with no obvious direction to cast it, it just clung to you and seeped back into your skin.

–

“No, dude, I’m telling you shit’s fucking weird.” You shoveled popcorn into your mouth as you spoke with your friend. This was the third call since you moved in. “Every night I wake up at like two in the morning and just for a split second I feel it. It’s like I'm lying on someone’s shoulder or something. And - oh my god - the amount of times I get stuck in that fucking warm spot on the stairs is gonna drive me crazy.”

You could hear her laughing at your frustration on the other end. “What do you mean you get stuck? Y/n I'm getting worried about your mental state.”

“No I’m telling you, I walk in this one - like - warm spot and I enter some kind of trance. Like I want to leave but I can’t - Jesus!”

“Are you alright?” Your friend was quick to ask, hearing you cut yourself off mid sentence.

“No! This shit is haunted I swear. My kitchen lights just turned off for no reason. If I die here I’m blaming you and Kelly for not getting me out.” You were being dramatic, you knew that, but it was starting to feel justified. You don’t remember a time in the last week you felt truly by yourself.

“Hey don’t blame us for your own choi-” She started speaking, but you lost her.

“Hello? You there?” You tried calling her again but the usual buzz of the dial tone was dead silent, the lamps that were illuminating the house followed soon after. Phone lines were the first to go in a power outing. No fucking way the power just went out. You felt around in the dark for the drawer of the end table. There had been a flashlight on the counter when you’d first arrived. You threw it in the end table because you had no clue why it was there - you were thanking God you’d done so while also praying the thing had batteries in it. You wrapped your hand around the object and said one more plea to the stars you wouldn’t have to be without light until tomorrow. Somebody must have been listening, as the room lit up when you hit the ‘on’ switch of the flashlight.

You’d seen the fuse box towards the south end of the upstairs hallway, sitting between a Da Vinci replica and a mirror taken straight from a movie star's wet dream. I’m gonna die was the only thing you could think at a moment like this. You were for sure going to see glowing red eyes at the end of the hall and die a horrific and bloody death. Thanks grandpa. The warm spot was a welcome refuge from your journey to certain death, and you embraced the sense of peace it brought you at a time when your heart was surely beating too fast. You held the light in front of you as you ventured up the stairs. The top of them seemed cartoonishly haunting, you thought momentarily that you would fit perfectly into a Scooby Doo episode. It was vast and dark, having multiple pathways you could walk down, but you set your sights on the south hall and did your best to disable your peripheral vision. It was right there. You just had to reset the power and you’d have your precious light back. Who puts a fucking mirror above a fuse box?

You held the flashlight between your teeth as you focused on your task. Open and reset. Open and reset. It was truly as simple as that and then you could be done. Go watch a midnight rerun on TV and pray that the spirits would leave you alone. Open and reset. The switches were flipped off - you didn’t think that was normal but what did you know - so you flipped them back on and heard the hum of life returning to the house. Thank God. Your nerves dissipated almost immediately. You were alright, no ghost had it out for you. It’s an old house, and would probably experience things like this a lot. You could do that again if you had to. You looked up, though, and ate your words. There was definitely a man behind you. If you had been trying to look at him, you would have seen he was young, tall. You probably would have thought he was attractive, but you had no time for that. You whirled around, yelping at the sight of him and mentally preparing to defend your life. It proved futile though, he was gone as quickly as he came. There was nowhere he could have gone that fast, so as much as you were certain he was there, you settled for him being imaginary. It was dark upstairs, and you were scared out of your mind. Surely your eyes were overcompensating for the paranoia that was racing through you. You walked back to the couch on guard and decided to call your friend back tomorrow. It was nearly twelve, and you knew she had work tomorrow. You could cope using TV and proper lighting to comfort you until sunrise. What’s one more sleepless night?

“You boys let me know if you need anything.” You heard the words in your own voice as if listening to a stranger.

“Sure thing, doll.” All the men were in uniform. Gray fabric covered their bodies, adorned with hats of the same color. Soldiers.

You walked back behind the front counter as the bell above the door continuously chimed at the arrival of new guests. Orders were being shouted to the cooks. You stared at the bold letters painted on the large graffiti piece decorating the wall, “Cathy’s Cooking.” A greasy apron covered the light blue dress beneath it - waitress attire. The smell of fried eggs clashed hard with the scent of sanitizer you were using to wipe down the counter. Bells rang to signal orders were ready to be taken out to guests, and you discarded the rag you used to mop up spilled coffee.

“Thanks, Benny.” You nodded to the chef as you took the food plates to table two. He nodded back at you before returning to flipping bacon.

“L/N!” Your manager barked at you. “Take your break. Be back in thirty.” He was a friendly man, though he got a bit hostile under pressure.

You couldn’t be more thankful for the break. It was hour 6 of your shift and you were beginning to think he might never let you off. You removed the apron as quick as possible and excused yourself out the back entrance to cool off in the alley way. It got hot as hell during rush hour, so the way the slight breeze nipped your cheeks felt like heaven.

“Tough shift?”

“Jesus!”

He started laughing as you startled, turning to face him. “‘Fraid it’s just me, honey.” He walked towards you as you grinned at him.

“You scared me, Spence.”

He shook his head, mocking you. “I’m so sorry.” Drama queen. “How ever will I make it up to you?”

You giggled at that, and wrapped your arms around his neck as he got closer. He put his hands on your hips, leaning you against the brick wall of the alley. You could feel your lungs open up when he kissed you, always feeling like you could breathe better when his lips were on yours. He was your God given destresser. He still donned his uniform but had opted for taking the hat off, he knew you hated when his hair was hidden.

“That’s not very nice, Reid. I thought you were a gentleman. What would your boys think of you being so mean to a lady?”

He smiled a bit at that. “You like when I’m a little mean, Y/N.”

Fuck. He had you there.

You looked to the side for a second to snuff out some of the tension. “How long are you here for?”

“We’re in town for two weeks. Gotta catch a boat up to base 14 on the 20th. Supposedly they’re preparing for a big fight.”

You frowned as you made eye contact with him.“I get so worried about you. About all of you. I don’t know what I’d do if - you know if something happened.” He’d been a soldier for a little while now, joining when he turned 18. He’d kept his hands on your hips, and you started to run your hands through his hair, a nervous habit you picked up when the two of you first got together.

“I know, honey. But by the time it’s done I’ll be off my leash. I do this and we can run away together.”

You looked at him the way you always did - with such admiration and love that he often had to look away before it went to his head. He swore he looked at you the same, but you knew deep down nobody could love anyone as much as you loved him. You laughed a bit at the elation you got from just his presence.

“I got lucky with you, Reid.”

He just shook his head. “Give yourself more credit, L/n.”

Your consciousness hit you like a truck and you realized before long that sun was shining through the windows. You’d fallen asleep sometime between ultimate terror and fleeting hope of your survival. And that dream - dear lord what the fuck was that dream. It was more vivid than you thought possible. You always forget most of your dreams when you wake up, but this time it felt like forgetting would be a betrayal. You could recall word for word every single thing about that dream. It was as though you saw a movie of your own life. A feeling so familiar you could taste it but just far enough to escape your grasp - and boy were you reaching. Not to mention the man. You didn’t know if this was some sort of coping mechanism you were inventing in your head but that was definitely the same man from the mirror last night. An imaginary friend. You had an imaginary friend as a grown woman. Terrific.

–

“You’re never going to attract a suiter with such a tragic expression, my dear.” This had to be the third time your mother had roused this point in the past hour.

“These dances are dreadful, idiotic nights of captivity that do nothing but mock the existence of genuine companionship.” The irony of you saying this while patting your cheeks with rose pigment was not lost on you. “Let me scrub myself raw and willingly restrain myself in hopes a man will see me and fall in love.” You spat out the last word with enough vitriol to hopefully drown yourself in. “Maybe he’ll like me so much he’ll lay claim and I can live on to be his housewife and half a person. How I've always dreamed of letting a man decide how much value I have.” You were flustered by the end of your spiel, looking at your mother through the large vanity with the tentative hope of a child asking for sweets.

“You read too much, darling. Those little romance books of yours are nothing but nonsense.” She was a professional at writing you off by now. “You know plenty of women who are perfectly satisfied with their lives. This is how we do things, Y/n. I don’t understand why you insist on fighting it so intently.”

She was never truly angry at your defiance, only tired. You could never tell if she was tired of you complaining or if she, like you, was tired of living this way. Your mother had married young - even for the times - and you knew your father left much to be desired in her life. They were basically repulsed by each other, only joining in union to produce a child. Your mother had been thrilled to have a daughter. Your father would trade you if he could, but he made do. The ultimate lack of affection between the two of them made you ill. You weren’t much older than your mother had been, you could very well end up trapped and child-bound in a loveless marriage.

“I would rather die alone than end up with my father.” You spoke, she sighed.

“I know.”

You stared at her through the mirror for a moment longer, then you rose from your chair. Your makeup was done, your look now complete. You noticed your mother’s eyes start to well up at the sight of you and she started to walk closer.

“My beautiful girl.” She smiled, forbidding the tears to venture down her cheeks, and held your shoulders. “You deserve a man who will worship you. Your future husband will be the luckiest man on planet Earth.” A gentle prompt, but a prompt nonetheless. You knew she loved you, but she carried more shame as you got older. Having only a daughter was something frowned upon, but having only a daughter hellbent on avoiding marriage was something that weighed on her.

“I’ll see you in the carriage.” Then she was gone, kissing your cheek and taking her exit to go talk with the director of the communal ride. Carriage was being generous, it was more like a one-way wagon to the local suiter’s ball. You watched her leave with a sense of grief so intense it nearly toppled you. She deserved a man like that too.

This was your third ball of the month. The pool of potential partners diminished with each one. People would often take whatever they could get, meaning less and less people even needed these nights anymore. You walked in with your mother, hand resting gently in the crook of her extended elbow. Your father stopped attending with the two of you a while ago. You believed he’d given up hope of a man ever choosing you - Lord knows he wouldn’t. Scanning the crowd, you saw little to look forward to. The music was pleasant, you would dance with a couple men who seemed bearable at best and criminal at worst, indulge in some of the enticing pastries and teas, and then you would leave. Back home until your mother dragged you out the following week for another one. With your current rate, you assumed you would end up marrying the vagabond that perused your neighboring streets. Taking another look around, you thought you might prefer that.

You made your temporary home in a corner chair, letting your mother excitedly drag prospects up to you and watch dejectedly as they ruled you out as an option. You felt bad for her, considered caving in and finding a man to give you a child, but you remember swiftly how long the years take to pass when you’re miserable. The chair gave you a good view of the room, you could see the entrance and the dancefloor filled with enticing women waiting for men to notice them. You could feel the sweat start slicking your skin beneath the corset you wore. It was too hot in here.

If you hadn’t been so determined to ignore the occasional advances of bored men, you would have missed the small group entering the area. Two women and two men, you wondered briefly if it was two couples, but discarded that thought. This wasn’t a place for couples. You felt your heart physically lurch at the sight of the last man in the row of four, as though your heart was running to greet an old friend. Had you seen him before? Surely you would have remembered such a visceral reaction. You averted your eyes before he could notice you. You don’t remember ever wanting to be noticed by a man - especially not this badly. You allowed yourself the escape of your own thoughts, getting lost in your head to pass the time and focus on anything other than what was probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

You looked up, he was standing above you. The chair next to you had been taken all night, the same woman had been sulking in her seat, and you found comfort in the fact someone else was unhappy to be here. She was gone now. Someone was definitely messing with you.

“Not at all.”

Your mouth was drier than it had ever been. You wondered if your lips remained stained from the color you applied earlier. You’d done nothing but sit all night and yet you were praying nothing had happened to your makeup.

“Why are you alone in a corner?”

“Men tend to be repulsed by my pessimism. I also happen to hate it here. Serves for a less than desirable combination.” You refused to let your sudden attraction diminish your stubbornness. You hated the self-consciousness racing through you, no man had the right to take your assurance in yourself.

“Why do you hate it here?” He wasn’t being mocking. He seemed - genuinely - a little sad at the thought of you being unhappy.

“Well, sir, I am of the belief that these dances are nothing but congregations of people settling for lives that won’t make them happy. They trade excitement for safety as though the presence of security has to mean the presence of misery. I don’t think anyone can know the true meaning of love in our current state as a society.” You didn’t look at him as you spoke, instead staring out at the people dancing. “I hold no desire to settle. I am capable of making happiness on my own. Most men don’t like the thought of me not needing them.”

You were almost positive you lost him. You were betting on him not being there when you looked, preparing yourself to bite the bullet and cope with tonight’s losses. Maybe your mother would agree to leave early.

You heard him chuckle softly. “Sir.” He repeated your words, finding humor in the formality. “My name’s Spencer.” He added. “And I also happen to hate the purpose of these events. I’ve never actually been to one before, but I’m new to the city, and something about tonight was begging me to come out.”

You were absolutely bewitched by him. “I’m Y/n.”

“Fitting.” He smiled, a smile directed at his own thoughts, as though something in his mind had clicked. “Will you dance with me?”

The music had slowed severely. You scoffed at his proposal, but you were taking his hand as if you’d been waiting on this. Maybe you had been. You were grateful for the ballad that was playing, never having been one for upbeat dancing. He led you gracefully, and for once you felt yourself relinquish power. With a mind like yours, a man’s company was almost never wanted. With this one, though, you laid your heart at his feet as if you’d done so a dozen times before. The heat of his hands was seeping through your dress, and his eyes were locked with yours.

“I feel like I know you.” A confession. He had an effect like that.

“Maybe you do.”

–

Two in the morning. Everyday you’d woken up at two in the morning from a different dream involving the mysterious ‘Spencer Reid’. You friends had kindly dubbed him the “Man of your dreams” following the stories you told them. You’d been a housewife, trying to welcome him home from work before he laid you down and made an altar of your dining table.You’d been the daughter of a king, at one point, falling in love with his favored knight. Shamefully, that one haunted you. Reappearing in your mind during intimate times when you needed a spark. You’d never been one for desire either. When your friends started preaching the wonders of sex to you during your highschool days, you felt no pull towards the act. Just another it you didn’t understand. Now, though, this house served as an aphrodisiac. You lost count of your streak by day 13, and were now just begging whoever put this apparition in your home for the strength to keep your hand out of your pants.

Spencer had become more like a roommate rather than an unwanted guest. You saw him in most reflective surfaces around the house. You felt him everywhere. He sat at the table with you, watched TV with you, he would wait by the door when you got home from work. Sometimes, your hand or your shoulder would run hot. Physically hot, like he was putting his hands on you. You wondered if he was around during those times, but if he was there he made sure you didn’t know it. You were gaining a sort of intuition for him. The thought Spencer would like that struck you numerous times when you were window shopping or when you tried on an outfit. You were starting to think maybe you were just crazy. Perhaps a ghost who seemed to be your soulmate and made you incredibly horny was how all psychotic breaks started.

Weirdly, through your bizarre dreams and inconsistent sleeping patterns, this was the most well rested you’d felt in a while. Waking up at two am was routine now, sometimes you managed to fall back asleep afterwards but most times you were up dwelling on the images your mind had shown you that night. You thought maybe your body was just adjusting - surely it was nothing supernatural giving you energy - just the adaptivity of the human brain. One persistent thing you couldn’t adapt to, though, was how much you missed him. The increasing number of times you woke up to being the only occupant of your bed was starting to wear you down. You feel like you’d spent lifetimes with this man and yet he was someone you never knew. You'd seen the two of you fall in love countless different ways except the one that actually counted - the present.

“I genuinely don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Another phone call, another conversation about your rapidly declining mental state. “I have fallen in love with a figment of my own imagination. Surely this is some demented form of narcissism.”

“I don’t think it works like that, Y/n.” Your friend was terrible at comforting people. It probably didn’t help that you hadn’t been fully honest with her about the severity of your situation. From where she was standing, you had learned to lucid dream and now that was bleeding mildly into your real life. Not the biggest deal, maybe you were just lonely.

“It’s a ghost, dude, I’m fucking telling you. There’s no way I’m imaginative enough to conjure all this shit up.”

“You know his name right? Go down to the library and look him up. If he’s a ghost then surely there’ll be something to find.”

Holy shit. She was a genius. “Oh my God you’re so smart. I love you. You just saved my life. You’re God’s gift to the planet. Who would I be witho-”

“Jesus Christ will you just go? Stop kissing my ass and start driving. I want details when you get back.”

You don’t know if you’ve ever been so eager to get to the library of all places. If you could snag a computer spot then you could put an end to all of this. He wasn’t real, realistically you knew that, but you had a fool-proof way to check. If he was real you were going to have to come to terms with the fact you could see dead people. Well, a dead person. You had never seen any before Spencer. You’d never seen Spencer either, not before the house at least. They say you can’t make up faces, that if you see someone in a dream then you’ve seen them in real life but you were incredibly doubtful of that by now.

Spencer Reid. Thankfully the man didn’t have a particularly common name. You hoped there would be limited matches, less to look through. Pretty soon you could accept your own mental insanity and maybe ask your mother to spot you for some therapy. Well, moment of truth. You watched each letter be typed in with baited breath until his full name was in the search bar. Even just looking at his name brought that sense of calm. You were hopeless. Until, apparently, you weren’t.

Brilliant Dr. Reid dead at 26

Former FBI agent Spencer Reid found dead in his home

Spencer Reid co-workers speak out on his legacy. Where to go from here?

You scoured every article you could find, analyzing every pixel of every image available. This was your guy. Same Spencer Reid from your dreams. Same Spencer Reid that stands behind you in every mirror of the house. Holy shit who was this guy? He was a little older than you, died last year in the summertime. Each article painted a brutal picture of his death, speculating on how the doctor died but never comfirming anything. Only that he was dead when paramedics got there, the sight of his covered body being extracted from his home was one that would stick with you. His home. It was the same house you were living in. It’s possible your grandfather was renting it out. That’s probably why nobody ever knew about it - he wasn’t living there. You didn’t know when water started pooling in your eyes, you only realized them as they started falling down your cheeks. You didn’t even know him. You didn’t even know him but you felt like someone just sucker punched you and were about 60% sure your lunch was coming back up. Jesus.

There was no way you could tell your friends about this. The majority of your brain was pleading with you to rationalize this. Maybe you’d seen one of the articles before. Maybe your grandpa talked about him. Holy shit he had known your grandpa. Every individual thought you had was identifiable and that was far too overwhelming for your brain to handle. You signed out of the computer and went to go sit in your car. Could you even drive like this? Your hands were shaking so bad there was a good chance you’d crash the car before you got home. It’s twenty minutes, you thought. You had to go back. Staying away from the house any longer felt like a punishment. You can make it twenty minutes.

–

“No, no. Like I said it was just some old guy who wrote a book. No sign of my Spencer.” You were lying straight through your teeth. You figured it didn’t truly matter. If you sat here and told the entire story of finding exactly who you were looking for online, you think she’d have checked you into a facility.

“Maybe if you believe hard enough you can manifest him.”

“Wow you’re hilarious. Remind me again how I ever lived my life without such a humorous presence.”

“I question that same thing everyday, Y/n.” You could hear the smile embedded in her words.

“I’ll let you go. I know Dylan is probably waiting on you. Thanks for checking up on the Spencer chronicles.” You felt slightly bad. She was on her honeymoon currently, and instead of spending time with her new husband, she was listening to your stories of fraternizing with a ghost.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sure it’s weird as hell. Call me up if you need to, yeah? Hotel has unlimited calls so I can talk all night if you need to.” She was an angel in this world.

“Thanks, same goes here. If you get sick of your husband you know where to find me. Remember to use protection.”

“Alright, nevermind. You may suffer by yourself for all I care.” She laughed while she threatened you.

“Bye, honey. Love you.” You should have felt alone, but you never did. He was most likely here with you.

The exhaustion had well and truly crept up on you. You planned on getting home and calling your friend immediately, but you ended up needing a good few hours to cry and pace around the house. You weren’t scared - it was essentially the opposite. The complete lack of fear bred so much confusion that you didn’t know how to cope with the amount of frustration on your shoulders. You paced the house hoping to find him. You wanted to be near him. You harbored the immature hope that knowing who he was would grant you the ability to see him. Did you even know who he was? He was a doctor, an agent, but who was he to you? Is that what you needed to know in order to see him?

Now, sitting on your bed, you felt like you’d been through the ringer. The mental gymnastics of the day weighing heavily on your body. You needed to go to sleep. You wanted to go to sleep. In the last week or so you’d noticed a certain excitement regarding the promise of another tale, another dream. They were so extravagant, not even in the details of them, just in the consistency of pure emotion. You could have been fighting dragons or sitting on the porch in rocking chairs. If he was by your side, there was always this certain euphoria surrounding the two of you. A feeling reserved just for you and him. God you missed him.

–

You woke up slowly to a familiar bed beneath you, this was your house. The window was open, curtains blowing cautiously as the mild chill of the Fall breeze wafted in and dusted over your collarbones. It wasn’t this cold last night. You felt the breeze again on your whole body, and realized you were lying naked on top of the ruffled comforter. Had he pulled the blanket off you?

“Are you cold? I didn’t think to shut the window when I got up. I was kind of rushing to get my stuff.” You noticed then that he was sat behind a canvas, angled so he could glance between you and the task at hand with ease. He noticed you furrow your eyebrows, and even managed to catch the minuscule tense of your muscles as you prepared to sit up.

“Stay still for me, honey. I’m almost done.” He was adding feather-light brushstrokes to the piece, a finishing touch of his you now recognized from watching him paint so much.

“This isn’t a very good pose, Spence. You know I’m not the most photogenic.” You referred to the fact you had been sleeping as he painted, limbs not organized and environment chaotic. Notoriously unfavored things by the man. Maybe he was hoping to capture a candid version of you.

He exhaled a laugh. “How rich coming from you.” His lips quirked upward as he continued adding touch-ups to his art. “Something about you this morning…I don’t know.” He shook his head like he was talking to himself rather than you. “You just looked…mesmerizing.” He shrugged, brushing off the sentiment. “Felt wrong to just look at you.”

Dumbfounded was the only word you could think to describe yourself. He’d painted you before, mainly from the neck up for practice with faces, but this was different terrain. You were nervous to see the piece. You thought of your hips, your stomach, your legs. A silhouette he’d sworn time and time again was worthy of worship. One he wanted to treasure. You hoped you’d see a glimpse of yourself through his lens, hoped all that adoration would show on the canvas. Once he was finished with it, he turned it so you could see. It was breathtaking. His talent never failed to leave you speechless.

“I feel like I should be paying for this.” You joked, but still felt as though something should be given in return. He stood from his stool and joined you on the bed.

“I assure you, I’m well compensated.” Your face ran hot. “Can I hang it?”

“Spence, I’m naked-”

“Not downstairs, Y/n.” He chuckled. “I’d put it there.” He nodded to a vacant wall space on the right side of the room, entirely visible from his side of the bed.

“You want me watching you sleep, Reid?”

He grinned at you, shaking his head slightly at your remark. “Just wanna be able to see you.” He held your eyes. “I’m hoping looking at you before I go to sleep will give me good dreams.” You hummed in sarcastic agreement, your gaze falling soft a moment later.

“You can if you want to.” He looked relieved.

“Thanks, honey.” He looked stunning in the morning light. The sun hadn’t risen too long ago, and he was only covered partially by a pair of joggers. He was practically luminous, the bare skin of his chest looking golden in the sunlight. You stuck your hands out to feel him, and you felt as though you were trying to touch heaven itself. He leaned down to be closer to you, he always said you felt magnetic.

“You should let me paint you like this more often.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm”

And, just like before, you could breathe again when he kissed you. Truly breathe. It was times like these when he felt like your oxygen, like pulling away should be sin. Lord knows you would suffer any version of Hell for him.

–

Your frustration seemed to have doubled in your sleep. Two am. You were gonna find that fucking painting. It wasn’t in the spot he left it - you would have noticed a giant painting of yourself naked on the walls, but you double checked to be sure. You threw up every light switch you came across and started scavenging through the upstairs. There was a certain tug in your body - when you didn’t find it in a room, you knew it wasn’t there, something internal telling you to look elsewhere. It was only when you were halfway done with the downstairs raid that you remembered the storage room. You’d found it when you first moved in, a room full of dust and white tarps covering furniture and other indecipherable shapes. It had to be in there.

You wrecked havoc on the tiny room. Tearing off layers of fabric quickly, leaving little thought to where you were throwing them, completely tunnel visioned on finding the painting. You came across a covered square the same size as the canvas had been. It was coated in so much dust that the covering looked ancient, and you were begging any conceivable being to be merciful, to let you have at least this if you couldn’t have him. You unveiled the shape to find the same vibrant pigments you’d seen just hours before. It was you, draped over the comforter and basking in the hue of the morning. This was it, you thought. Holy shit this is real. You had no grounds to deny this anymore. Spencer was a real guy, clearly he’d died in this house and clearly the two of you had lived enough lives together to fill months of sleepless nights with.

What did this mean for you? Were you a clone? Were you and Spencer both clones? Were you living in a simulated reality and all of this was actually a ruse calculated to induce reactions in the brain that could then be studied? Oh my god - were you a ghost too? Had you died and were now stuck in some form of purgatory?

You felt sick with it. You didn’t know you were capable of bearing such intense metaphorical weight. You needed to see him. Maybe if you went to sleep, you would realize you were having a dream and could figure some things out. That’s so stupid. You mentally scolded yourself for even thinking of such a dumb idea. You needed to speak with him. You needed him to tell you what was going on. Of course him and everyone in your life who could have known him were six feet deep. A seance, maybe? Perhaps just buy a ouija board and wing it. You’d seen the most of him when you were asleep, that had to be the key to figuring this out. Please dear god let it be the key to figuring this out. You took the painting and headed back upstairs. Maybe it could serve as a medium, you thought. That’s a thing, right?

You don’t think your bed had ever seemed so uninviting. You remember how grateful you’d been to finally sleep on your first day here. It was a pain in the ass hauling a mattress up a spiral staircase and the moment you realized you were done was a relief to say the least. Now you stared at it and your mouth ran dry. What if this didn’t work? What did you even want to happen? Were you going to rummage through your dreams and play detective to piece together what might have happened in your past? No degree of mental antagonizing could push you off course by now. He was real. You know he’d been a real man, and surely the painting of you meant you’d known him as something other than a ghost. You were simply praying this would work out how you wanted. You needed a semblance of closure, even just a small one.

–

The room was dark, making you double check if you opened your eyes in the first place. You hadn’t had a dream. This was the first time in months you had fallen asleep and woken up without having lived a different life. You felt tears forming in your eyes. The disappointment you felt was so immeasurable that your brain practically short circuited trying to find a way to process it. You knew it was a long shot for everything to be fixed overnight, but you’d expected something. Like he was reading your mind, the bed dipped down, him now occupying the space next to you in bed.

You were worried your head might fall off your neck with how quickly you turned to look at him. The moonlight came beaming in through the window, like she was your secret ally, giving you enough light to finish your battle. It lit him up, practically shining through him like it would a crystal. He was ethereal. You stared into the same brown eyes you’d been looking into for months and felt your resolve give way from within you. You could have looked at him forever, you wanted to look at him forever, but you crashed hard into him. You would have fused your soul to his at that very moment if you were able to. Nobody had ever drawn out such a reaction - you needed to feel him. It was the proof you had been begging for, he was here, he was tangible. You could finally know what it all meant.

You felt his chest jolt as he chuckled at you. “I missed you.” You could hear the smile in his words.

Choking on a sob, you spoke your response so quietly you could barely hear yourself. “What the fuck is going on?” You knew tears were probably soaking through his shirt but he just held you against him. “Please tell me you know what’s happening.” You were muttering your words quickly, sharply inhaling between your sentences as air refused to stay in your lungs.

He ran his hand up and down the length of your forearm, a motion so familiar and so comforting you’re sure your knees would have buckled if you weren’t lying down. “Just relax, honey. I can explain everything, ok? I just need you to breathe right now.”

It was hard to maintain your oxygen through the sobs begging to get out of your chest but you were nothing if not stubborn. You needed an explanation. If that was his condition then so be it. You took a deep breath, regaining your ability to inhale and exhale at a regular pace. You could see the room better now having been awake in the dark for a while, so you tried to focus on anything that might help. The painting. You stared holes into that thing and forced your breathing to even out.

“I was really proud of that one.” His words held an instinctual twinge of fondness, still smiling as he spoke. Like now that he had you, he could describe any horror of the world and still be happy with you in his arms. He looked back at you, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “You seem to get prettier with every lifetime.”

Even as the overwhelming confusion wrecked your brain, your body was completely in tune with him. Warmth seemed to spring to life in your stomach, his words bypassing any guards you had to root themselves within you. He regarded the situation so lightly, so casually. He wasn’t worried about slipping away, or running out of time. He would have given you a decade to calm down if you needed it. He seemed content with just calling you pretty, as though he’d waited a century to touch you again.

“My dreams, were they -” You paused. You didn’t even know what to ask him. “What were my dreams?” Were they real?

He took a moment to just stare at you. The smallest, knowing smile on his face and a look of pure adoration in his eyes. He knew what you were asking. “They were us.” Fucking obviously. If you were any more on the edge of your seat you would fall off. “All the lives we’ve lived together.” Jesus.

“How long ago-”

“Two thousand years, 5 months, 27 days, and-” he leaned up slightly to check the clock “14 hours.” Giving you the cutest tight-lipped smile when he finished talking like he didn’t just say you’d been in love for two millennia.

“So we’re soul mates?”

“Essentially.” He nodded. ‘Soulmates’ was close enough.

“But - is everyone like this, then?” Did all your friends have this too? Everyone in the world? “Everyone has a soulmate?” Your friend’s on her honeymoon right now.

He laughed a little and shook his head. “No, no. It’s just us.” What was so special about the two of you? “For all I know of at least. Your uh…your husband-” He hesitated for just a second, fingers digging into your skin just a fraction harder. “He found out about us. Had his mother cast a spell. He thought he was punishing us, I think. Figured we’d get sick of it after a while. Poor guy, all he did was condemn us to eternity together.” He held no genuine pity for the guy, more amusement at the thought of his plan actually succeeding.

“How long have you been here?” You hadn’t bothered to check when the articles were from, too busy trying to keep your head on straight to look for the publication date.

“A year.” A year of him alone in this house. God, you couldn’t even imagine. “I started having dreams of you. Everyday I just felt, like, something pulling me away from where I was. I knew your grandfather from an old case I worked and everything just seemed to happen.” He reminisced fondly, like the memory didn’t hurt him. “I don’t even really know how I died. I just remember having a party one night, and how the hallway looked from the bottom of the stairs.” Oh my God the warm spot.

“When you moved in I was thrilled but - fuck, honey, it was torture.” He delivered the line like it was a joke but his eyes were watering. “I couldn’t talk to you, I couldn’t help you - I couldn’t fucking touch you and it was unbearable.” His hands hadn’t left you since you woke up. Making up for lost time, you guessed. There was one question you were brutally aware of, something that persisted in your head even as you tried to enjoy the moment.

“Why can I see you now, then?”

He sighed, so full of devastation that it was clear he’d been preparing for this. “You can’t.”

“What?”

“You’ve seen all our lives, Y/n. This is the only one left.” He was so delicate in his explanations. His palms soothing over your face as if trying to physically soothe the sting of his words.

“Wait what does that-” What was he talking about? “I don’t understand.”

“To be honest, I don’t really understand it either.” He exhaled at his own ignorance, the words unfamiliar in his mouth. “For the first time, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when you wake up.”

“Wake up? What do you mean wake up - Spence I’m awake.” You held onto his wrist that was near your face for emphasis, his hand still caressing your face. “I’m awake.”

His eyes were definitely watering. “No, Y/n, you’re not.”

“Spencer.” You’d never said it so sadly before. Tears were in your eyes for the second time that night. You would have done anything to carve this moment into stone. Sit here in his arms until time forced you into your next life.

“It’s ok, honey.” He was always reassuring, always safe. “We’ve done this for two thousand years, Y/n. You’re bound to get a little unlucky sometimes.” His optimism in the face of such a crushing development almost made you sick. Some things never change. “I finally have you back, alright? Just lay with me for a while. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We’ve got plenty more lives to live.”

You halted the tears in your eyes, sniffling once to reign yourself in. “Ok.” You laughed, a little tearfully, and kissed him with all the love you had to give.

Plenty more lives to live.

330 notes · View notes

xtra7s · 2 months

Text

𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨

𝚁𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚎 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚙 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Synopsis: Renee realizes her girlfriend is struggling and comes back from her tour.

Content: depression warning, fluff, deep talks/discussions, just tw

Word Count: 1.800+

a/n: I havent been writing lately, but I was listening to my shitty ass sad playlist after I hit my bong n wanted to write based on how I felt. Srry it's sad lol.

Masterlist |

As Y/N lay in bed, surrounded by the suffocating weight of her thoughts, she felt as if she were trapped. Depression wasn't just a feeling; it was a state of being, an all-encompassing darkness that clouded her mind and consumed her soul.

The disassociation was perhaps the most insidious aspect of it all. It was like watching her life unfold from behind a thick pane of glass, disconnected from the world around her. She went through the motions of her daily routine, but it felt hollow, as if she were merely a spectator in her own life like she was sleeping.

Numbness was her constant companion, a thick fog that dulled her senses and dulled the vibrant colors of the world around her. It was difficult to muster up any enthusiasm or joy when every emotion seemed to be buried beneath layers of apathy, she just felt lost, like she was suffocating.

Boredom was another relentless adversary, gnawing at her from the inside out. No matter what she did, nothing seemed to hold her interest for long. Hobbies that once brought her joy now felt like meaningless distractions, and even the simplest tasks felt like Herculean feats.

But perhaps the cruelest aspect of it all was the overwhelming loneliness that seemed to suffocate her at every turn. It wasn't just a lack of companionship; it was a profound sense of isolation, a feeling of being utterly and completely alone in the world.

Even when surrounded by friends and loved ones, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that she was nobody's person. It was as if she were standing on the outside looking in, watching as everyone else lived their lives while she remained stuck in place, unable to move forward.

And so, as she lay in bed, tears streaming down her cheeks, Y/N couldn't help but feel as if she were buried alive and clawing at the wood til her fingers bled.

The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the sun that shined through the curtains, much to Y/N's discomfort. It was a familiar scene, one that had become all too common in recent months, she didn't have the energy to shut the blinds.

Depression had become Y/N's unwanted companion, a shadow that followed her every step, always coming back even after she thought she got rid of it. Loneliness was its cruelest weapon, wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket, isolating her from the world.

She had tried to fight it, tried to push through the fog that clouded her mind, but tonight, it felt like an impossible task. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling utterly lost and alone.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, her girlfriend Renee had sensed the shift in her demeanor. Renee had been on tour for the past few weeks, but even from miles away, she could feel when something was amiss with Y/N.

Tonight, as Renee finished her performance on stage, her thoughts were consumed by Y/N. Something didn't feel right, a nagging sense of worry gnawing at her heart. Ignoring the cheers of the crowd, Renee hurried back to her dressing room, her mind racing with concern.

Once backstage, Renee grabbed her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed Y/N's number. It rang once, twice, before Y/N's voice echoed through the receiver, thick with emotion.

"Hey," Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, love," Renee replied, her heart aching at the sound of Y/N's voice. "Is everything okay?"

Y/N hesitated, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. But Renee's presence, even over the phone, was a balm to her weary soul.

"I… I don't know," Y/N confessed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I just… I feel so lost, Renee. Like I'm drowning in my own thoughts."

Renee's heart shattered at Y/N's words, the pain in her voice cutting through her like a knife. Without a second thought, she made a decision.

"Y/N, I'm coming home," Renee declared, her voice filled with determination. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at the sincerity in Renee's words. Despite the distance between them, Renee's love was a beacon of light in the darkness.

"Please hurry," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

"I will," Renee promised, her own tears mingling with Y/N's across the miles. "I love you, Y/N. Just hold on a little longer, okay?"

As they hung up, a spark of hope ignited within her chest. Even in her darkest moments, Renee was her guiding star, leading her back to the light.

The moment Renee stepped through the door, she could feel the heavy atmosphere weighing down the air. The dimly lit apartment seemed to echo with Y/N's silent struggle, and Renee's heart clenched at the sight.

Renee quickly made her way to the bedroom, where she found Y/N curled up under the blankets, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Without a word, Renee slipped into bed beside her, wrapping her arms around Y/N and pulling her close.

Y/N melted into Renee's embrace, her body trembling with the weight of her emotions. Renee held her tightly, offering silent comfort as Y/N buried her face in Renee's chest, seeking solace in her warmth.

For a long moment, they lay there in silence, the only sound the steady rhythm of their breathing. But eventually, Y/N found the courage to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry, Renee," Y/N murmured, her words muffled against Renee's shirt. "I hate that you have to see me like this."

Renee brushed a gentle kiss against Y/N's forehead, her heart aching at the pain in her eyes.

"Don't apologize, love," Renee murmured, her voice tender. "You never have to apologize for how you feel. I'm here for you, always."

Y/N's breath hitched at Renee's words, the love and acceptance in her voice a balm to her wounded soul.

"I just… I don't know how to cope anymore," Y/N confessed, her voice breaking with emotion. "It feels like I'm drowning.."

Renee's heart clenched at the despair in Y/N's voice, but she refused to let it consume them. With a gentle hand, she tilted Y/N's chin up, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination.

"You're not alone in this, Y/N," Renee said firmly, her eyes brimming with love. "We'll get through this together, okay? I'll be right here by your side every step of the way."

Y/N nodded, a glimmer of hope sparking in her eyes as Renee's words washed over her like a lifeline.

"What if I never get better?" Y/N whispered, her voice laced with fear.

Renee's heart broke at the vulnerability in Y/N's words, shaking her head.

"We'll figure it out together," Renee promised, her voice shaky. "There are so many ways we can tackle this, whether it's therapy, medication, or finding what works for you. We'll take it one day at a time."

Y/N's shoulders sagged with relief at Renee's unwavering support, the weight of her burden suddenly feeling a little lighter.

"Thank you, Renee," Y/N whispered, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Renee brushed a tender kiss against Y/N's lips, pouring all of her love and devotion into the gentle caress.

"You'll never have to find out," Renee promised, her voice filled with conviction. "I love you, Y/N. And I'm not going anywhere."

As Y/N lay in Renee's arms, her thoughts churned with a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of her depression bore down on her like a heavy anchor, dragging her deeper into the abyss of her own mind.

"Renee," Y/N's voice wavered, breaking the heavy silence that enveloped them. "I feel like I'm stuck. Like I'm trapped in this endless cycle of figuring it all out then knowing nothing again."

Renee's heart ached at the tremble in Y/N's voice, her grip tightening around Y/N's trembling form.

"I know, love," Renee murmured, her voice soft with understanding. "I'm here.."

Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she gazed up at Renee, her vulnerability laid bare for the world to see.

"But what if it's not enough?" Y/N whispered, her cracking ever so slightly as she spoke. "I feel like I'll always be this way. I never seem to get better, Renee."

Renee's heart shattered at the despair in Y/N's words, the fear of losing her consuming her from the inside out.

"You're not broken, Y/N," Renee insisted, her voice firm with conviction. "You're human. And humans are allowed to feel lost sometimes. But that doesn't mean you can't find your way back."

Y/N smiled sadly at Renee, trying to believe her words.

"I just… I feel like I'm losing everyone," Y/N confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "And I'm so scared of being alone."

Renee's heart constricted at the raw honesty in Y/N's words, the pain of her loneliness echoing in her own soul.

"You're not alone, Y/N," Renee whispered, her voice laced with tenderness. "You're my person, and I'm yours. We'll navigate your darkness together, hand in hand, until we find our way back to the light."

Y/N's tears flowed freely now, cascading down her cheeks like a waterfall of emotion. But with Renee's unwavering love to anchor her, she felt a glimmer of hope amidst the storm.

"Thank you, Renee," Y/N murmured, her voice choked with gratitude. "For being my light in the darkness."

Renee pressed a gentle kiss against Y/N's forehead, pouring all of her love and devotion into the tender gesture.

"Always, love," Renee promised, her voice a whispered vow. "I'll always be here for you. No matter what."

As the weight of their shared emotions began to ease, exhaustion swept over Y/N like a gentle tide, pulling her into the embrace of sleep. Renee held her close, their bodies entwined in a comforting embrace.

In the quiet of the night, as the world outside fell into a hushed slumber, Renee pressed a tender kiss to Y/N's temple, her lips lingering against the warmth of her skin.

"Sleep now, my love," Renee whispered, her voice a soft murmur in the darkness. "And remember, don't kill the flowers."

Y/N watched Renee sleepily, hooded eyes silently agreeing with her words. Sleep soon claimed her, pulling her into its gentle embrace.

And as they drifted into dreams, the promise of a new day.

𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴.

#renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #wlw #lesbian #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #the sex lives of college girls #lgbtq #mean girls #regina george x reader

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dabisbratz · 1 year

Text

DADDY’S HOME — gojo satoru x male reader

w.c: 4.3k

warning: light angst, daddy kink, bottom male reader, finger sucking, fingering, apology sex, dubcon (gojo’s a lil pushy but everything is consensual), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, biting, reader’s kinda bratty, possessiveness, established relationship, secret relationship, reader’s a regular civilian, anal sex, spit, mating press, sexualizing gojo’s thermographic xray vision, amab body terminology

a/n: the title to this is actually ‘kiss it better’ but i can’t give up ‘daddy’s home’….. s’too funny to changejsgshsgs

Tomorrow, like most days as of late, doesn’t come easy.

You don’t know exactly where Satoru is. Your last memory of him is rushed— it’s foggy and barely there, but you try to recollect how it went anyway. Over and over, you try to recall the curve of Satoru’s lips, his distinct scent, his words. It’s all a blur now, but you’re certain it wasn’t a goodbye. Not like how it feels now.

You’re tired, of that you’re certain, with your eyelids weighing more than the grief on your shoulders and your scleras burning a dark shade of red. Your bathroom mirror mocks you with your very own reflection, and as the bristles of your toothbrush are pushed to and fro, you catch yourself frowning at the dull depiction of, well, you. The distorted image of yourself stares back, tired eyes sunken in and rimmed in deep, dark circles. You try to put on a smile, eyes flickering up to meet your own heavy, mourning gaze.

But you know you’re being dramatic. It hasn’t even been a month yet (you still had eleven more days), just nineteen days of radio silence. Excruciating, lonely, isolating radio silence. The cordolium is almost too much to handle, heavy pangs in your chest as your heart twists and turns and squeezes itself. Like a washcloth wrung out to dry, you dampen and deflate as you make your way out the bathroom— but not before putting your things away and flickering the light off.

When you think about it, really think about it, you wonder if it’s all worth it. The waiting, the secrets, the silence, the mental gymnastics. The gangly limbs and unruly hair, pale and silky. The blotchy shade of pink that clashes with the rest of his face when you refer to him with a pet-name. Is Gojo worth it? If the ground opened up and swallowed you whole, would he be the first person you’d wish to see one last time? Satoru? No, it’s indubitable— he’s worth everything and more.

And to say you miss him would be an understatement.

Tomorrow, like most days as of late, doesn’t really come at all for Satoru.

In a way it does, of that he’s certain, but it doesn’t exactly feel like it. There’s no concept of time here, something a regular human wouldn’t be able to comprehend. If he were that— a regular human, that is— he’s sure his brain would’ve shut down the second he was sealed in the damned prison realm. Physically, he feels just fine. Almost akin to the moment he was originally sealed, as if the amount of time he’s actually spent here was a mere sliver of sixty seconds. Maybe like going to sleep, only with the visuals of the dream being dark skeletons and an inky black skyline, had it counted for one.

But it doesn’t last long— not for him at least— as he eventually finds himself fishing out unused, silver keys and standing in front of your apartment door. Should he. . . just walk in? As if nothing happened? It’s November ninth now, he was sealed in October— realistically, he’s been gone for nineteen days. But not for you, as he only had so often to find the time to actually be with you, he was lucky to see you throughout the entirety of the weekends.

Fuck. He misses you.

Your laugh, your smile, the boyish glint in your eyes. . . The way you frown when he makes an impossibly childish joke, as if you want to laugh but don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Your hands, so warm and gentle as they card through his opalescent strands of hair. Your throat, bruised and painted with fresh bites so everyone knows you belong to him.

That’s enough to get the door open.

Your apartment is dark, not dark enough that he can’t see, but it’s obvious you’re fast asleep. Gojo shuts the door behind him, turning the lock to warn a soft click in return, and immediately makes his way to your bedroom. He’ll be sentimental and sappy about the state of your house later— he just wants to see you.

And- ah, there you are. Facing away from him (or, the doorway) as you lay on your side. You look peaceful— the slow rise and fall of your bare chest as you hold onto your pillow like a lifeline. He’s missed those arms, warm and welcoming as they’re wrapped around his strong form. With your back turned to him, he watches your back expand and deflate, your face enveloped in the cool, soft fabric of your pillow. Your handsome face, something he’s missed more than you’ll ever know, completely covered. Gojo frowns, despite the light building in his chest as he makes his way to the bed.

You’re warm despite only sleeping in your boxers and— is that his t-shirt? He can feel the soothing heat of your body bouncing off your shoulders (your skin is entirely too bare for his liking, no longer littered in hickeys or indents of his teeth). It makes him want to curl up beside you, holding you until he’s stuck with his arms around your frame. Together.

“I’m home,” Satoru whispers, tracing the hill of your shoulder with delicate fingertips as he looks down at the side of your face. Peaceful, you’re unmoving, eyelashes resting against your cheek and pretty, soft lips relaxed. Your breaths come out in stifled, hushed chords, and Gojo finds himself enamored all over again. “Did y’miss me?”

You mumble something soft, not entirely there yet, as his big hands slowly part you from your pillow. He’s jealous of it, he’ll admit, seeing as it gets to press against your body every single night. A constant in your life, he supposes.

“C’mon,” His voice is a gentle purr, sweet in your ears as he coaxes you awake, “Wake up,” like a silent prayer drifting into the night, as he gently shakes you. He’s never been one for rude awakenings, after all. He’s missed your pretty eyes.

Almost on cue, your eyes slowly flutter awake with a groggy groan. Gojo watches the curve of your lips, the furrow of your brows, the way your fists clench around his shirt. Just as handsome as the day he left you, confusion fills your face until your jaw goes slack. The words die on your tongue, your brain slowly working to connect the dots as Gojo fondly watches questions mold your lips.

Nothing of Satoru has changed. His eyes are still so blue; and sparkling with shades that remain unrecognizable to this day. His hair’s still the cleanest twinge of white you’ve ever seen, brighter than the sun during early evening, quilting the rooftops and pavement. His glossy, rosy, lips curl into a small, genuine smile, chirping a quiet ‘good morning!’ and at this angle, shadows meet to frame him perfectly. The curve of his face, the slope of his adam’s apple, his silhouette blanketed by the yellow hue emitting from streetlights that peek through your desolate curtains.

His shoulders have never looked more broad, the expanse of his body large and big as he leans forward. He smells remnant of soap, and there’s something in his scent that makes you sleepier, gets your brain foggy as he looks at you.

With your lover hovering directly above you, an incredulous tremor racks your body. Your hands reach out to touch him, as if he’s not real, and once you’re met with the solid, silky skin of his collarbone you can’t help but gasp.

You watch dimples paint his cheeks as he leans in with his head, staring at your lips with darkening eyes.

“Satoru,” Cold shivers run down his spine, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth at the sound of his name leaving your lips. Like a broken record, you repeat yourself, completely at a loss for words. The love in your voice is audible, desperate, “Satoru.”

Curling your fingers into a fist, you bunch up the fabric of his— Jesus Christ, did he come here in a compression shirt?—shirt and pull him forward, shutting your eyes as your lips crash into his.

You can feel his teeth grazing your mouth, pearly fresh as he smiles. But you swallow it down, using your other hand to snake up the nape of his neck, bristles of his faded undercut prickling your fingertips. He tastes just like how you remember, sweet and soft, with his tongue as wet as it is sharp. He’s home, and he feels like it, too.

Gojo follows suit, snaking a large hand up your chest until it’s resting at the base of your neck, wrapping around the warm flesh. He can feel your heartbeat in your throat, rapid and sharp as he delivers a small squeeze. Frustration bubbles in your stomach, fast and sudden as you pull away, eyebrows knitting together the more you think about it.

“You left me,” It’s not a question, laced with anger as you keep him close with your fist in his shirt. He left you, and has the audacity to turn up in the middle of the night for what— to fuck? You try to ignore the slight fall of his lips, the flash of guilt that sparkles in his irises. “For two weeks. Now you just wanna fuck?”

No— that’s not it. Satoru has half the mind to paint his face with a smile, to block out the question like some kind of declaration against him. But it’s you, you’re saying it because you’re scared, because you care. Because you missed him just as much as he missed you, if not more. You’re not picking a fight, you’re worried. So Gojo lets himself visibly deflate, the smile on his face flickering as he squeezes your neck once more. Yeah, he wants to fuck you, but that’s not all.

“You know that’s not it,” And yeah, maybe he’s right, because you have yet to let go of him or push away his hand. You know he’s right, because you’re subconsciously leaning into the strong hand around your throat, the edges of your brain fogging up the longer he looks at you, “But you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” Gojo's gaze is dark, intense. He cocks his head to the side and smirks, showing off his sharp, shiny canines. Fuck. You’ve fallen right into his trap, letting him snake his hand up your jaw to make you nod, slow and steady, “You know I can’t help myself.”

Heat pools in your stomach, intense as he laughs at whatever pathetic face you must be making in response to his casual manhandling. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, again and again, he takes initiative to gather your wrists in his warm palms, pressing your hands against his chest to feel his heart beat. The steady thump, thump, thump-ing is nothing compared to the vibration of your own, showing no signs of slowing as he lets go to lift your (well, his) shirt off your body.

“Feel that?” He breathes, immediately burying his face in your neck. He inhaled your scent, groaning low in his throat as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin. His eyelashes tickle your jaw, long as he closes his eyes and sucks along the skin. With short, stinging bursts, your neck is blemished with indents of his teeth and deep, blooming bruises.

“Mhm, yeah…” You whine, baring your neck as he reaches down to rub circles into your inner thighs. He's heavy lidded, following the curve of your cupid's bow and drinking in the way you bite down on your bottom lip between gasps- the plump flesh covered in a thin sheen of saliva that has his mind racing.

Pulling away, Satoru pushes you down on your back, spreading your thighs apart with two long, big hands. Sparks fly in your groin, legs instinctively coming to close around the pale hands holding you open until Gojo’s grunting, tightening his grip at your thighs to keep you still. “Don’t go runnin’ on me now.”

Sounds of protest bubble up before he can berate you, your body squirming under his strength as he moves a hand to tug at the fabric of your boxers.

He's watching your lips, pretending to listen to what you're saying: even playing the role well enough to add a low hum of response when it's required of him. You’ll never admit how hard it makes you, how your hole flutters around nothing in response to the intentional neglect— but he seems to get it anyway.

Satoru hums, offering a spare, stern glance as he frees your cock from the confines of your underwear. Springing to life, you feel yourself throbbing and achy as he lets out an involuntary moan. Hiking your knees up to your chest, Satoru doesn’t have to tell you to hold them there. You do it yourself, tilting your head to keep watch of his movements.

His biceps ripple and bulge against his shirt as he rids himself of his slim-fitting, matching black pants. He watches you the entire time, pausing to squeeze the base of his cock through his pants as if he’s impatient. There’s a wet patch adorning his underwear, ghosting over the head of his cock that you can make out through its long, thick indent. Saliva gathers in your mouth, threatening to spill as you watch him lift his shirt overhead.

“Gojo,” You hear yourself whine, holding your legs with one hand as the other claws at the sheets, pulling them forward. “Hurry up.”

“Tellin’ me what to do now?” His hair falls over his face, wisps of white disheveled enough to have him carding a hand through it. It falls back into place seamlessly. You’ll be damned if it doesn’t make your brain a little slow, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s grabbing you, pulling you down so your ass is flush against his bulge.

A small gasp leaves your lips, wet and watery as he ruts his hips against the swell of your ass, your thighs, your balls.

“Two weeks, Go’,” You’re rambling, wiggling your hips against his big, throbbing dick. Damned boxers, the most you get from him is the wetness of his pre-cum grinding against you. “Two weeks, nothing. Thought you left me. Could’ve fucked someone e—”

He cuts you off before you can finish, shoving his long fingers in your mouth to shut you up. His face is scarily calm, like the comment didn’t phase him at all. But you regret it before it even left your lips, your eyes widening as you gag on his fingers. Like he’s fucking your throat with them, wet squelches and drool slides down tithe seams of your lips. Then it’s there, a possessive fire in his eyes as he watches your pretty mouth wrap around his knuckles.

“Wanna try that again?” Narrowing his eyes, he presses his fingertips into your tongue. The weight of his fingers makes you short circuit, your brain blank as you blink up at him with glassy eyes. The cocky asshole has the audacity to look at you like you’ve grown another head. “What? Daddy's fingers fuckin’ your throat remind you who it belongs to? Make you stupid enough to drop the attitude?"

Oh.

He slowly slides out his fingers, giving you a chance to explain yourself. Glimmering and shiny with spit, Satoru inspects them before sucking the drool off with an expectant raise of his eyebrows.

“Be. . .” Quiet. He can sense the end of that sentence from a mile away, tutting as he shoves his fingers back in your mouth with a disappointed shake of his head.

“Where’d my good, sweet boy go?” With his ring and middle fingers fucking your mouth, he uses his thumb to smear your saliva along your lips. Fighting back the urge to spread your legs and whine, suckling on his fingers with a long, drawn out whine, it’s your turn to shake your head.

His good boy. . .

You gurgle around his fingers, sputtering something he can’t understand, as his free hand spreads the globes of your ass apart. He spits down, landing right along your perineum and slowly sliding down onto your cute, winking hole.

“Sorry! You’ll have to speak up!” He chirps, finally removing his fingers for good. But now you don’t have much to say, pursing your lips in defiance as his wet fingers trail down your shaft, balls, and crack. He finds your hole in an instant, rubbing the pads of his fingers in slow, tantalizing circles. “What was that? You know where he went? You sure?”

So deep, he pushes in one knuckle at a time, his fingertips sliding along your gummy, creamy hole, cursing out, “He does that too, grinds his pretty hole on my fingers.”

“Hate you,” Him and his stupidly skilled fingers. Him and his stupidly pretty dick. Him and his stupid, stupid mouth. You sniffle, vision blurry as you sit up on your elbows to watch Satoru’s long, skinny fingers push past the first band of muscle, slick and slow, “You….left me.”

“I know, I’m the worst,” He pouts, pink lips curving downward as he closely watches your velvety walls suck his fingers in deeper. So pretty, your rim stretching and fluttering along the digits as their own special greeting. He’s missed this. “Gonna let Daddy apologize?”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re shaking your head, pouty lips persistent as ever. It’s what he loves about you, though. Satoru can’t help but coo, high in his throat. You’re just so teary-eyed, he can’t take you seriously. But you nod, small and sweet as you avert your gaze. He’s sure you can see him from the corner of your pretty eyes, so he makes sure to keep his pride apparent.

“There he is,” He smiles, watching you clamp down on his fingers from the praise. His fingers hit your prostate, the special bundle of nerves sending electricity up your body until you’re wailing, back arched with tears spilling down your cheeks. “There’s my good boy.”

His cock grinds against your bedsheets, hard and throbbing. As torturous as it is for you— the slow drag of his fingers as he continuously spits into your hole— it’s tenfold for him. He’s nearly losing his head, eyes scanning over your body, then to your sobbing face.

You hiccup, wet and loud and pitiful, rocking your hips like some kind of slut, desperate to feel full again. Full of Satoru. But then you’re empty again, clenching around nothing but air and spit as he pulls away. He mumbles a few profanities, kicking off his boxers in a display that has your bed creaking and shaking— you along with it.

There’s a slick sound of his thick dick taptaptap-ing against your rim, wet and sticky as he grabs handfuls of your ass. Briefly admiring the skin that spills between his fingers, Satoru’s gaze lifts to meet yours. Your survey is lazy now, eyelids heavy as your drool-covered face contorts into a wobbly smile. He wants to fuck that stupid look off your face. He wants to make up for lost time.

“Ohh,” You sigh, melting into the mattress as he lifts your ankles over his shoulders and readjusts so he’s hovering over you in a squat, the head of his cock sliding along your sensitive hole and neglected cock. He’ll take care of you, he promises. “Daddy…”

He nearly shoots all over you.

What a pretty picture that would make, too. Your fucked out face blanketed in thick ropes of cum, your chest shiny with a thin layer of sweat and drool. But there’s somewhere else he’d rather shoot, somewhere deep and warm and mushy around his cock. Inside.

“Fuck,” It’s a sloppy, pathetic sound. The squelch of Satoru’s long, curved cock slipping past that tight band and into your messy hole. You’re not much help either, with your babbling and incoherencies and constant whining of ‘Daddy!’ and ‘please!’ Your hole is plush and tight, gripping his cock like a vice and refusing to let go. And with every drag of his dick comes more sounds, more sticky, clear precum (how cute, your cock is leaking down to your hole) that turns creamy and thick the more he pushes in and out. “Fuuck, don’t move. Sit there and take it.”

“Oh my—” You sob, thighs tightening and trembling at the stretch of his fat dick in your little hole. An intrusion really, because you’re struggling to take it— too big, too much, too good. If Satoru’s talking you don’t hear it, not over your own squeals and wailing, anyway. “. . .Please..!

“You even know what you’re begging for, baby?” Satoru keens, your tears spurring him up until he can’t do anything but mindlessly thrust, kissing away the fat, crystal tears rolling down your handsome face.

“Uh… Uh-huh,” You nod, fast and rushed as you lock your legs together. Your head luls to the side, as you’re much too weak to keep it upright as Satoru watches you. You just can’t help it, your lips parting as his cock bullies your prostate, poking and prodding and pounding. You’re sure you look stupid- utterly and completely fucked out on his dick, your tongue slipping from your mouth and panting like some sort of bitch in heat.

“Yeah? What is it, then?”

“Da—ddy,” You sob, blinking away tears as Gojo’s hips grind in slow circles, deeper and deeper and deeper. “S’so big, I can’t— How s’it even fit?”

Oh, fuck.

“I don’t know, baby,” It’s the genuine surprise that does it for him. Looking down, Satoru rests his forehead on yours as he watches his cock disappear inside you. In and out, in and out, sloppy and messy and— oh. He can see the warmth of your hole, the warmth of his dick, watches it leave and enter, fills you up and leaves you empty again over and over. The way your rim stretches special for his dick, then back to its tiny, winking state just to be split apart all over again. Fuck. “You’re just special like that. Perfect for my—fucking—cock.”

“Missed,” You hiccup, jolting up and down as Satoru pounds into you, relentless and desperate like he’s trying to get you there— trying to get himself there. He is, seeing as your cock feels just about ready to burst and your hole is sensitive it almost hurts. “Missed you, Daddy. . . N’… Missed your cock.”

“T’aww,” His cooing is genuine, not nearly as mocking as early, and heat prickles your body, even if you already felt on fire. “Really? Know something, I missed you too. And my cock— yeah, missed this pretty little hole too. All mine, isn’t it?”

That does it.

Your cock spurts against your stomach, your chest, with the help of a few short, shallow strokes on Satoru’s part. But it felt better, the twisting of his wrist that doesn’t stop even as you start to convulse, eyes rolling back until your vision goes white and cum ropes out your dick in quick, short, sensitive bursts.

You’re clamping down so hard, nearly spitting and pushing out Gojo’s cock the harder he pounds into you, murmuring into your neck until you feel warmth in your tummy. In thick, longer spurts that feel sticky and cling to your gummy walls. You’re full, whining and whimpering as Satoru slowly calms his feverish thrusts, fucking his cum in deeper and deeper, as if it’ll do anything.

“Daddy… too much…” You’re cut off by your own hiccups, feeling some of his cum seep out your sloppy hole and down your crack, globs pooling beneath your ass and sticking to Gojo’s heavy, spent balls. Despite your own protests, you make no movement to unlock your legs, your cock twitching pitifully as your lover’s thick cock nestles against that special spot deep inside you.

“I know,” Satoru doesn’t pull out, instead nuzzling his face into your neck and coaxing you into releasing your legs with small, languid circles to the back of your thighs. “I’m here. Daddy’s right here.”

You know what he’s trying to say, even in the cockdrunk state you’re currently stuck in. With foggy eyes and an equally foggy brain, you pepper tiny kisses along Gojo’s temple, smiling wide when he laughs into your sweaty neck. “Mhmm. . . Know you won’t leave me, ‘Toru.”

Never on purpose, anyway.

“Maaan, you’re always so honest after we fuck! I’m like some sort of elite sex therapist,” You don’t have the energy to grunt or roll your eyes, let alone push him. He continues anyway, teeth nipping at your sensitive neck. “I knew you didn’t mean it. You looooove me!”

Biting back the urge to take it back, you nuzzle your cheek against the silky, soft bundles of Gojo’s white hair, whispering a quiet declaration of love straight into his ear. You hope to stay like this for the rest of the night, limbs entangled as Satoru breathes you in, strong arms holding you in place— his cock inside you, slowly softening until you’re both asleep. Cleanup can wait— after you’ve talked about everything, after you’ve finally gotten a full night of uninterrupted sleep. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Yeah, tomorrow comes easy. Of that, you’re certain.

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