#and his brother both hates him and loves him more than anything else in the world

[loveydovey-leviathan]

can i request the Obey me brothers and/or the datables reaction to you being jealous ☺️

mc gets jealous

obey me x gn!reader

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a/n: the intro is so long in comparison to what i wrote for the characters lmao

cw: the gender of the person flirting with the characters is not mentioned. they don’t leave even after he’s told them to [belphie’s part]

.

The two of you have been spending less time together lately, your personal responsibilities keeping you apart longer than they usually would. But when you realised the both of you hadn’t gone on a date in weeks, you decided to surprise them with one at a popular cafe in the human world.

Once seated at a comfortable corner, you kiss them on the cheek and tell them you’ll be right back with your orders. The trip from the counter to your seats couldn’t have taken more than 4 minutes but when you walk back, there’s a stranger at your spot next to them. By their body language, it’s clear they’re trying to snatch up your obviously irritated significant other.

Maybe it’s because today was finally a free day for the two of you, combined with not seeing them as much as you would’ve liked– but when you finally arrived at your table, you set down your orders with a little more force than necessary.

With eyes as cold as a storm as you possessively inserted yourself by your lover’s side, you asked the stranger in your seat, “Do you need something from us?”

lucifer

A smug little smirk makes its way to his handsome face when the stranger decides not to start anything and walks away.

And while a part of him doesn’t even want to wait until they’re out of earshot– the same part of him that wants to kiss you senseless in front of the many suitors you have– he refrains from doing anything too rash in public.

If he was in his demon form, his wings would ruffle from how you pridefully claimed him to be your lover in front of this “threat”. Not that anyone has the potential to be one when you’re all he ever thinks about in the late hours of the night.

When you sit down next to him once more, still obviously slightly angry after the ordeal, he gently holds your hand and presses it to his lips.

Just in case it wasn’t clear to anyone else in the cafe that the two of you are together.

“There’s no need to be jealous, my dear. I’m all yours.”

mammon

He gets a little flustered when you’re at his side but he soon gets over it and pulls you closer.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m taken. Now, scram.”

Unlike Lucifer, he doesn’t even wait until the person leaves before he gets up to kiss you (on the cheek, he can only handle so much PDA).

“Took ya long enough! Seemed like you were takin’ forever.” “I was gone 5 minutes, Mams.” “Same thing.”

He’s sweet. And needy– but that’s why you love him. Another kiss on the cheek and it seems like he’s already forgotten what happened.

He hasn’t obviously. He’s going to daydream about this for the next 4 months every night before he goes to sleep because it proves you’re just as greedy for him as he is for you.

He’ll tease you about it, of course. “You must really love me if that got ya jealous.” He’ll stop if you ask him too but he’s still going to be giddy about it.

leviathan

He’s so relieved once you’re here because he had no idea what to do. He doesn’t even realise that he’s leaning towards you.

It isn’t until the stranger leaves that he realises that he’s still extremely close to you while in a public cafe.

He instantly gets so embarrassed and wants to leave.

It doesn’t take you long to put the pieces together– so you take your orders to go and pull him outside the cafe and into a nearby park.

“S-Sorry… I know you really like that place.” Now he’s worried that you might hate him for getting embarrassed and potentially ruining the date for the two of you.

When you reassure him that it’s fine and that you can always go to some other place, he calms down enough and the situation completely dawns on him– you got jealous because you thought someone else wanted his affections (which he still isn’t completely sure of btw).

His face is flushed pink when he thinks about it. You love him enough to fight for him.

“What? Oh- uhm.. it’s nothing– just thinking about how cool you looked back in the cafe when you got jealous, hehe.” < is imagining scenarios in his head and totally planning on telling Henry 2.0 about this exciting development in your relationship.

satan

He was about to commit a crime right before you came along.

Usually, he would be better at keeping his anger in check but this is your first date in a while and he’s not about to have some rando ruin it for the two of you.

“Leave.” is all he says to them with a glare sharper than Asmo’s heels.

He calms down as soon as he sees you seated next to him once more.

“They’re lucky you came when you did. The absolute nerve of some people–” he shuts up once you kiss him on the cheek.

While the two of you eat your food, he realises that your actions may have been caused by a spur of jealousy. He’s quick to tease you about it.

“Was somebody jealous? Well, now you know how I feel whenever one of my brothers take you away.”

He thinks you’re so cute when you’re jealous, but he refrains from teasing too much lest you lightly make fun of him when he’s green with envy.

asmodeus

Don’t get him wrong, he absolutely loves attention– but not at the expense of the two of you spending time together.

As soon as you’re next to him, he stands up and pulls you even closer than you already were.

“Ugh, MC~ where were you? I was so bored.”

He’s acting all whiny and needy, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and completely ignoring the other person.

It’s not long before they turn red in the face and storm out of the cafe.

“Finally, they’re gone,” he complains, checking underneath his nails like he was afraid some of their filth might have latched itself to him.

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous, have I told you that?” 

He’s so quick to tease, even though he’s 100x worse when he’s jealous.

Somehow, he’s even more clingy the rest of the date. He's holding your hand, kissing your cheek, pulling you close to him the entire time– his own way of telling you and everyone else that he’s yours and you’re his.

beelzebub

He’s pretty clueless as to what’s happening and what the stranger’s intentions are– but when you come along, his passive face instantly lights up with a smile.

He is so in love with you, that you’d have to be blind to not see the way he looks at you, like your presence alone makes his heart full.

The stranger realises that they didn’t have a chance from the beginning, and Beel doesn’t even notice them leaving.

He notices that you seem angry at something, so he gently takes your hand and seats you beside him again– handing the slightly ruined food to you.

“You look angry. You should eat, it’ll make you feel better.”

He was right, it did make you feel better. Along with him happily eating all the orders you got him.

He won’t bring up the stranger unless you bring it up, but if you do, he’ll just shrug.

“Them? I don’t know, they just came up to me and sat on our table. I don’t mind when people do that but they were interrupting our date. I didn’t want to get angry and make a scene.”

belphegor

Belphie is spoiled. And he is tired.

When someone comes and sits on your seat, trying to flirt when the two of you came in together– he is instantly pissed off.

He wants nothing more than to “make” them leave, but he can’t (at least not in the way he wants to). So he just decides to be upfront instead.

“Do you mind? That seat is taken by my s/o– the one who walked in with me, in case I need to remind you.”

When they still don’t leave, he’s very seriously considering putting a curse on them.

But before he starts the incantation, you arrive in an equally bad mood.

Recognising that it’s two against one, they roll their eyes and leave, muttering something under their breath all the way.

“That was so tiring…” < (he spoke three sentences)

If you offer to go home, he refuses, saying that you both planned this already.

“I’ll try my best to stay awake but I can’t guarantee it. When we get back home, you owe me a nap.”

The sly little bitch managed to turn the whole thing in his favour.

#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me x you #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #obey me x mc #lucifer fluff #mammon fluff #leviathan fluff #satan fluff #asmodeus fluff #beelzebub fluff #belphegor fluff #obey me fanfic #om fluff #om x reader

[tennessoui]

For the prompt list, nanny/single parent obikin would be amazing!!

(from this prompt list)

(the first time I answered this prompt two years ago, the nanny anakin au was born)

so to do something different, here's some gffa widowed anakin, nanny (sort of) obi-wan!

(2.5k)

It is hard to find time to grieve. There are too many things to do. Too many appointments to make, too many decisions Anakin isn’t sure he’s qualified for. Some decisions are easier than others. For example, the funeral will be on Naboo. There will be two services: a public one to honor Padmé’s public service, and a private one to honor who she was as a person. The casket will be closed, because his wife died when her cruiser exploded. There isn’t much left to bury anyway.

But some decisions are harder. Which flowers should go on her casket. What songs would she want sung and who should sing them? Would she prefer her grave closer to her ancestral home or the home she created in her adulthood?

If she told anyone the answers to these questions, it wasn’t Anakin. But then, the people who knew her best, who loved her most, died with her. Sabé, Rabé, Saché, Yané, all of her handmaidens—an assassination such broad strokes that it was impossible for it to fail.

So Anakin chooses Yali lilies, because Leia’s eyes linger on them the longest. He chooses a small Nabooian folk band to play after her service because their music is the first thing to make Luke lift his head from his coloring books in days. He formally requests that her body be buried among her ancestors, and the Nabierres agree immediately.

And he keeps telling himself that he will grieve, but there is so much to do. 

And then—then there’s after the funeral. Then there’s the rest of his life, sprawling out before him in a long, hazy road. 

There are more decisions to be made.

There are people who have opinions on them now, people who sat back and let Anakin muddle through flower arrangements and kriffing seating charts, who now step in to peer over his shoulder, monitor his every breath.

Should he really move the children back to Coruscant? Does he truly plan to continue to work as a mechanic in the Mid-Levels? Should he not think of the children, their needs? How can he support them on the thin amount of credits he makes? Would it not be better for the children to live on Naboo in the care of their grandparents and their extended family?

It would be what Padmé would have wanted.

Anakin cannot care about what Padmé would have wanted, because she isn’t here. Not to argue with him, not to make her wants known. She is dead. She doesn’t get to haunt him in the waking world too.

“What do you want?” he asks plainly, sitting down across the table from his two children. The twins blink back at him. Leia has finished her cereal. Luke has barely touched his.

“Bacon,” Luke says.

Anakin hadn’t meant for breakfast, but he figures it’s as good of a start as any. “Alright,” he agrees.

He stands once more and goes to the kitchen. It’s not exactly his domain. It was never Padmé’s either. The way Padmé grew up, food was made once you requested it—by droid, by cooking staff. Not by the hand of a Nabierre.

The way Anakin grew up, food was cobbled together carefully, sparingly no matter how much you requested it. And no matter how you cooked it, it always tasted a little like dust, which took the joy out of experimentation.

But the serving staff have been dismissed for the past two weeks to give the family time and space to grieve in private. 

(Padmé’s parents have been given a schedule for visiting hours for that exact reason.)

Anakin locates the pan; then, he locates the package of bacon strips.

When he glances up, both twins are watching him over the edge of their barstools, tiny faces showing both skepticism and incredulity.

“I want to know what you want to do,” Anakin says, raising his voice as he places the pot over the heating plate, the meat in a moment later. “Do you want to stay here with your grandmother and grandfather? Do you want to go back to Coruscant?”

The twins are quiet. Anakin twists his neck to look at them again, and they’re looking at each other, silently communicating the way only twins can.

“Where will you be?” Leia finally asks, looking at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, bottom lip already jutting out.

Anakin blinks. “Wherever you are,” he answers.

“You won’t leave too?” Luke asks rather tremulously.

Anakin takes the pan off the heated plate and turns it off with a decisive flick of his wrist. “Of course not,” he says. “Come here.” He crouches down and barely has enough time to open his arms before the twins are there, pressing in as close as they can get to him. He holds them back just as tightly in return.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises into Leia’s hair. “Not without you two.”

—-----------------

It becomes apparent fairly quickly that this is, by necessity, a lie.

The twins don’t want to stay on Naboo, which Anakin is secretly incredibly grateful for. He doesn’t want to either, but he knows he’d just be called selfish should he express the opinion.

But the twins don’t want to go back to Coruscant either. This makes sense as well. It would be incredibly jarring for them to go back to living in the quarters they shared with their mother, her Upper Coruscanti apartments in the nicest district of the planet, without her there.

Anakin wishes it were as simple as sticking a pin on a planet and deciding to uproot the entirety of his family to live there. 

But it’s not.

Perhaps if he were still young, nineteen, newly free and in love with the taste of that freedom, it would be.

But he’s a widower now. He has his children to think about, their futures. Any planet he chooses must have what they need as well. 

And they are four year olds who have just lost their mother. Their needs are numerous.

What makes the decision for him in the end is that his boss knows a man from Stewjon, who is willing to hire him. Who is willing to pay a premium for his expertise with mechanics.

Anakin doesn’t know the first thing about Stewjon, other than that it’s an ocean planet in the Inner Core and his dead wife always said the Senators from Stewjon were so frigid and tight-lipped because they spent the first few days of each visit trying not to be seasick on the Senate floor.

Anakin isn’t sure why this is the very first thing he tells the man—his potential boss—he meets behind the counter in the mech-shop on Stewjon.

He’s left the children with their grandparents for the week—long enough to fly from Naboo to Stewjon, meet with his potential employer, interview, apply his work practically, and fly back out.

He’d explained to both twins why they had to stay on Naboo. He’d explained many times. That hadn’t changed the betrayed look Leia had worn as she saw him off. It hadn’t wiped the tears from Luke’s eyes.

“Ah, well, I can’t say I’ve heard that one before,” the mechanic says. He sounds amused, and Anakin is incredibly shocked to hear a Coruscanti accent. Everyone he’s spoken to since arriving planetside has had such a heavy brogue that he’d honestly struggled to understand their directions to the shop—Kenobi & Sons.

Anakin lets himself look again at the man behind the counter. He’s rather clean for a mechanic, he decides. His beard is red, a common factor around these parts apparently, but his beard is short and neat, trimmed to accentuate the strong lines of his jaw. His eyes are a stormy blue, the kind of blue that matches the Stewjoni ocean.

“Between you and me though,” the man smirks and leans onto the counter with his elbow. His tunic is dark gray, white starchy fabric peeking out beneath the v-necked collar. “I’ve never been a fan of Stewjoni politicians anyway.”

“Oh?” Anakin asks, sidling a step closer to the counter. The man has the beginnings of gray at his temples, and his eyes are lined with wrinkles. They don’t make him look old though, Anakin decides. They make him look…well-lived.

“I’ve not a head for politics much at all,” his future employer shakes his head slightly with a small smile. His eyes flick up and down Anakin’s face, lingering on his lips and then lingering longer on the scar over his brow. Anakin feels rather flushed under the inspection, and he shifts his weight forward until he’s leaning up against the counter too.

There’s something about this man that’s rather…magnetic. It pulls him in. It makes him want to linger.

Good characteristic for a shopkeeper to have, though Anakin privately decides that the man before him has a face that’s wasted on mechanics, buried under some ship’s underbelly in a backroom.

“Me neither,” he admits, a moment too late to sound anything but highly distracted. It makes the man smile again though, a flash of straight white teeth.

“Is there anything you do have a head for then?” he asks. His tone is light, airy, rather teasing.

This is the strangest interview Anakin has ever had.

“Um,” he says. “Well. There’s mechanics.”

“Oh?” The man’s eyebrow lifts at an elegant angle. He props his chin on the palm of his hand and looks up at Anakin through his eyelashes. “Then why come here to us then?”

“Um,” Anakin says, and not because the man looks rather unfairly flattering like this, amber eyelashes in sharp relief against the blue of his eyes.

They’re interrupted by the sounds of clattering in the backroom, stomping and cursing. The man before him straightens with a slight sigh and picks up the closest flimsipad. “And what brings you in here today, sir?” he asks rather loudly, pitching his voice back to the other room of the shop pointedly. “Problem with your speeder? Serving droid? Cruiser? If it’s your astromech droid, I regret to inform you that I’ll have to refuse you service on account of the fact that I don’t particularly care for them.”

Anakin thinks he splutters, but whatever noise he makes is definitely drowned out by the rather irritated shout of Obi-Wan! that comes from the back.

A moment later, a man storms through the door, looking annoyed. "We will service an astomech if that's what's broken, Obi-Wan."

Now this is a man that Anakin can believe is a mechanic. His nails are blackened with oil, and his bare, burly arms carry smudges of the stuff. He’s much broader than the man—Obi-Wan—that Anakin had been talking to. He’s bald with a reddened scalp and a rather large red beard that’s the antithesis of the other man’s in every way. His clothes are dirty, loose, and the color of ash. He looks older too—whereas Obi-Wan could easily be in his thirties, this man must be pushing fifty.

He snaps at Obi-Wan in a language that Anakin doesn’t understand. Obi-Wan shrugs and hands over the flimsi pad without argument.

“Um, actually,” Anakin says, feeling incredibly wrong-footed. “Which one of you is Kenobi?”

“I am,” both of them say. Obi-Wan’s smirking slightly. The other man’s voice is louder, carrying that Stewjoni accent so obviously lacking in Obi-Wan’s speech.

The older man closes his eyes as if he’s praying for patience. “We both are,” he says. “Though if your ship’s malfunctioned, sir, I’m the Kenobi you want to see. This one’s good for naught but magic tricks.”

“I have been told I’m rather good at other things,” Obi-Wan turns his smirk full-force at Anakin, dropping his eyes to Anakin’s lips once more.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” he says very quickly in a very normal tone of voice that is most definitely not a squeak. “I’m here to interview for a position. As another mechanic.”

“Oh,” the older Kenobi says.

“Oh,” the younger Kenobi says in a much different tone.

The older Kenobi pinches at his nose for a moment before turning around the counter and offering his hand. “Ben,” he says. “Ben Kenobi.”

Anakin takes his hand and shakes it, eyes traveling back to Obi-Wan. Is he supposed to shake his hand too?

“I’m the Son in the sign,” Ben says gruffly as if that answers his question.

“I’m the reason it’s plural,” Obi-Wan adds, busying himself with the contents of the counter. From what Anakin can tell, the man is just messing up the carefully organized piles of receipts. 

He decides that he would rather not get the job than point this out to Ben.

Ben huffs out something in Stewjoni that sounds downright insulting, but that doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from smiling sunnily up at Anakin. “My brother enjoys bitching and moaning that I came back home when I was seventeen, but he’s awfully quick to foist his children off on me when he’s called to shift at the rig offshore and Marci’s off-planet too.”

Anakin blinks. He feels like that’s the safest answer.

“Only thing good that blasted Jedi Order ever taught you was how to handle younglings,” Ben says, and then spits on the ground as if the words themselves have left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anakin blinks and wonders if he should say something to remind the brothers that he’s here. For an interview. “And my magic tricks,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes slightly before catching Anakin’s eye and winking. With a wave of his hand, a flimsi-sheet flies over the counter and into Anakin’s chest. He catches it unthinkingly. “Would you like to sign in, sir?” “Get out of here,” Ben barks, snatching the flimsi from Anakin’s hand and pushing it back to the counter. “Like I said, the only one’s impressed with that is the younglings.”

“I don’t know, your man looks impressed,” Obi-Wan says slyly, even as he pushes himself away from the counter and around the edge of it.

Anakin isn’t sure what he looks like. He doesn’t think impressed is the word he’d use though.

When Obi-Wan brushes past him, the static electricity in the air jumps between their shoulders. Anakin feels as if he’s been shocked.

Obi-Wan must feel it too because he stops only a few inches away and looks at Anakin. For the first time, his expression is open. Curious. Considering.

“Get!” His brother insists, and Obi-Wan obeys, throwing one last look over his shoulder at Anakin before he slips out the door.

The shop feels somehow much bigger now that the other man has left. Ben sighs and rubs a hand down his face. He looks older now. More worn. “So that was my brother,” he tells Anakin wearily. “Who you would most likely see frequently if you were to take this job. I would understand completely if you would like to start by talking compensation.”

#asks #prompt fills #obikin #so he's not a nanny YET #i absolutely got too into the exposition lol #but in my mind he looks after luke and leia while anakin is at work #and then after a few months anakin is asked to do a few week stint at a rig off shore #(thnk of it either like oil rig or like the underwater station in the kenobi show) #and he goes and obi-wan looks after his kids #ok mostly i just wanted to write obnoxious little brother obi-wan #he leaves the order at 15 to go to melida/daan #and isn't allowed back in so he fights and rebuilds #but eventually leaves and goes to stewjon where he finds his family #and his brother both hates him and loves him more than anything else in the world #and hates the jedi order for rejecting him and letting him fight and risking his baby brother's life #and obi-wan finds this amusing and also secretly touching #you can tell i thought way too much about this brother dynamic lol #but just imagine the you hurt my brother speech this guy will give to anakin #and obi-wan's in the back like im thirty nine

[mxdotpng]

i love so much that dragalia lost was inspired by tales of the abyss but one of the things that makes me the most ill is that while luke was created to die. euden was created to live.

#.text #luke died because he had to. he did not want to die he didnt and if given the chance he wouldnt have but he wasnt. he had no choice #it was him or the world and lukes heart is too big to sacrifice any more people. so he chose the world #euden died because he had to too. but he was okay with it. time and time again had he been willing to give up his life #for those around him and every single time it ended in both failure and with lasting consequences on the world #around him. but this once. this one time. he was able to. and it was because in this world he was loved more than anything else possible. #i just think about it. every day. its possible that this world was the only one where there is a euden / nedrick difference. #and that the only reason that world survived and won and was not destroyed. is because aurelius loved his son too much. #so much that it altered history entirely. #gags. i hate these gamesthey should die. NOW. #me and my funny replicas and their shitty twin brothers that want to kill them. they are so real to me

[yan-maid-cafe]

Yandere Imposter

Imagine a yandere that pretends to be someone else...

You and your husband hadn't been close in years. A rotten drunkard that spent all day rotting away on the couch. When the two of you got married, you genuinely thought things would be perfect, he was such a sweet guy. But things just went downhill from there.

He was a sleeze bag. Spending all day drinking and refusing to work. Forcing you to get a job to support you both, but he couldn't even bother being somekind of househusband. No, he expected you to get off of work clean the house for him and still cook him dinner everyday. You felt more like his mother than his wife. And it was getting on your last nerve.

So imagine your surprise when you walk into the house one day, the smell of cheap booze and cigarette smoke gone. Instead replaced with the smell of soup?

The place was oddly spotless as you made your way into the kitchen, and there standing at the stove was your husband. Wearing an apron as he stirred the food in the pot. It was unnerving, if you knew anything about your husband it was that he refused to even step foot in the kitchen unless it was to eat. As if sensing your presence, he quickly turned around a smile spreading on his face. Was it just you or were his teeth whiter than usual?

Walking over he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, burying his face into your neck. A look of happiness on his face as he held you close.

"I'm so happy you're finally home, Dear. I went ahead and made dinner, you just go sit down and I'll be right over."

Since when had he called you pet names? You couldn't help but check his tempature, wondering if he was running a fever of somekind. Why else would he be acting so out of character suddenly. But he simply laughed off your worry and ushered you towards your seat. Immediantly serving you dinner with a blissful smile, a smile you had never seen on his face. You were so confused...

The night just continued on like that. One weird occurance after another. It felt like you were with a stranger, someone nothing like your husband yet identical to him. You felt like you were going mad, until night eventually came. Bringing you to bed, you and your husband lied down together. Except unlike everynight since your honeymoon, he pulled you closer. Snuggled up next to you as he whispered softly in your ear, almost bringing tears to your eyes.

"I'm so sorry for the way things have been all these years. You never deserved any of it. But as long as I'm here, I'll treat you perfect..."

Edan had always hated his brother. Despite looking identical, they couldn't have been more different. And it felt like his brother was always out to make his life difficult. If Edan got on the football team, his brother was the quaterback. If Edan got a B, his brother got an A. If Edan got honor roll, his brother got valedictorian. And eventually when Edan felt like he had met his soulmate his dear brother had to marry them. He could never win. It was all too much.

Especially when Edan began to take a closer look into the life his brother had stolen away from him. He was disgusted. Working his beloved like a dog day and night. Treating them as nothing more than a servant meant to do whatever was demanded of them, not giving them the life they deserved. The day he snapped came when he saw his beloved leave for work, continuing to stay near the house. He watched as his brother stepped out of the house hours later, walking over to one of the neighboring apartment doors and knocked on it. A scantily clad individual opening the door and ushering him inside. He saw red...

How foolish did that idiot have to be. Stealing away the life that Edan deserved, only to not even appreciate it. He got the privilege to lay beside perfection every night, and he still ran into the arms of some worthless harlot. He couldn't stand it. His beloved didn't deserve this mistreatment, and his brother didn't deserve their love. But what was he supposed to do about it...

He had never been so happy that the two were identical...

All it took was a little makeover and a swap of IDs for the two to look the exact same again. Now if he was ever found, Edan would be dead. He had to clean up all the blood from the floor, he might have gone a bit overboard but years of hatred and frustration will do that to a person.

But it was all worth it in this moment. Holding his beloved close to his chest as the two lay together, it was a dream come true. Burying his face in their hair, he continued to whisper to them, arms wrapped tightly around their body so that they couldn't get up. They never had to know.

" You'll get the life you deserve. We'll both get the lives we deserve, no matter what..."

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere imposter #yandere oc #female reader #fem reader

[cheesecakethots]

“Whore.”

You could’ve sworn the teacup in your hands cracked a little from how hard you’re gripping it. If you were Illumi, it would’ve shattered into a fine powder by now. But you’re not, which makes you susceptible to being called such things.

They’re at it again. You’re unsure as to what you’ve done to upset some of the butlers and maids, but god do they not like you. No matter. You hate everyone in this stupid boring ugly manor anyway. Huh. Maybe that’s why they hate you, too.

It must’ve been a shock to see Illumi of all people one day bring home his future wife. One he never cared to mention to anyone else beforehand, and one that was still kicking and screaming over his shoulder.

You’re not really sure how long you’ve been here. Months? A year now? However long it’s been, it didn’t take anytime at all to realise that maybe you’re not as safe here as Illumi swears you to be. His mother most definitely hates you, but, oh well, she’s never really tried anything, as far as you know.

The help started muttering things when Illumi wasn’t around, things that hurt more than you wanted to admit. When you didn’t go running off to Illumi at the first few instances of it, it got worse, as though they knew you would never tell him about it.

First off, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being your saviour when someone says mean things to you. Secondly, you may hate these assholes, but you have a conscience.

Only last week Illumi came into your shared bedroom, absolutely drenched in blood, asking if you could shower together. You quickly found out that whoever he had been torturing wasn’t dead yet, and he still had more to do.

Thinking about what Illumi does to people he doesn’t care about, those he’s only hurting for a job, makes you shiver at the thought of him actually harming someone who did him, or you, wrong. But, despite your mercy on them, this time you’re considering just telling him. Only a little.

You’ve had a notably stressful day, being pranced around by his mother who’s insistent on ‘training’ you to be the perfect wife for her son. Her explaining to you that the family expects at least six children from you both had you rushing to the bathroom to vomit.

Then you ran into his father, on your way back to your room. He doesn’t seem to actively dislike you, but he scares the absolute shit out of you. The man seems to think you’re some house pet rather than an actual person with thoughts and feelings, but you suppose that’s only a modicum better than wanting you dead.

You also bumped into Illumi’s grandfather. You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to hate him, but you do hate the look of pity in his eyes whenever he sees you. Sometimes he’ll save you from a lecture Illumi’s mother is giving you, so he’s nice in that regard. He’d never free you, though, so he’s just another kidnapper you can’t become friendly with.

You eventually got back to your room, expecting a nice nap before being forced to attend family dinner, only to find Illumi had gotten back earlier than expected. You cringed at how hungry he was, and not for food, but just allowed him to do as he wished. You were too tired to argue. After he was done, he seemed to take note of how quiet and exhausted you were. Too bad, dinner time. You hated dinner times more than anything else.

You ate the admittedly lovely food in pure silence, but quickly became sick to your stomach at hearing Illumi and his mother discuss the prospects of you becoming pregnant. You didn’t eat anymore after that. You’re pretty sure his brother, Milluki, made some comment about you that Illumi didn’t like, which explains why his wrist got snapped in half a few seconds later.

Illumi tried spoon feeding you when noticing how full your plate was, but you managed to convince him that you weren’t hungry. That got you another lecture from his mother about how you’ll soon be eating for two. You were tempted to tell her that if you ever got pregnant you’d throw yourself into Mike’s jaws, but managed to refrain.

After that, you finally got to go to bed. It wasn’t something you were looking forward to anymore; you struggled to sleep when Illumi was home because he’d spend the majority of the night just staring at you.

“Can I go outside?”

You don’t remember why you blurted it or where the thought came from, but you remember the confused blink Illumi gave in response.

“Um.. just for.. ten minutes? O-Or five..? I just want to sit in the garden by myself for a bit… If not, it’s alright..”

You hated how pathetic you sounded, unsure as to what Illumi was thinking when he stared at you with that expressionless face.

“Alright.”

“What?”

“Would you like me to ask a maid to bring you out a cup of tea?”

You didn’t really think about his words too much, just happy you got something your way for once, and nodded rather enthusiastically. You should’ve said no.

The first few minutes of being in the garden, sat on the bench and allowing the cool nights breeze to settle on your skin had you relaxing for the first time in a while.

“Your tea, mistress.”

Oh. It was one of the ones you were sure hated you, and behind him was another. Oh, well. You took the tea from his hands, thanking them nonetheless.

It was much more bitter than you liked it, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t really want tea in the first place. They didn’t leave, but you didn’t complain. Illumi probably asked them to watch over you, maybe to make sure you didn’t try to run. It’s alright, you still have a nice view to relax with.

“Whore.”

Your eyes widen a little, and your grip on the cup increases. They continue muttering amongst themselves, but you catch small, demeaning phrases that you’re certain are aimed at you.

Why are you a whore? You’d never even had sex before you met Illumi, and if you had, it wouldn’t be their business. You’re hardly allowed to interact with anyone other than who Illumi allows you to. Where would you have the chance to sleep around? The insult doesn’t make much sense.

That’s what you tell yourself, despite the fact that your shoulders and hands are shaking and you feel something cold and wet running down your cheeks.

Shit.

You put the cup on the floor, hands moving to cover your face and wipe away any evidence of tears. Illumi hated when you cried.

Why are you still crying? What they said doesn’t make any sense. Stop crying, enjoy the view. You don’t have long left before you have to go back inside.

You’re still crying. You don’t notice that it’s gone eerily silent aside from your own muffled sobs, too busy working on shutting yourself up.

“[Name].”

Shit. Shit!

He’s been sat next to you for god knows how long now, and you didn’t even realise. God, this sucks.

“Why are you crying?” Illumi asks, and you can feel him move closer to you on the bench.

“I-I’m not,” you say, a hand still covering your eyes. What excuse do you give? If you say hay fever will he never let you out in the garden again? If you say you have a cold, will he keep you inside your bedroom for a few weeks? Months?

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him staring at you.

“Would you like to stay outside for a bit longer?”

Oh.

“Ye-Yeah. Y-Yes please,” you eventually reply, gulping down another sob.

He doesn’t leave, but you’re less bothered by his presence than usual. Despite it being… him, it’s not horrible to have some company, even though you’d never admit it out loud.

You’re not sure how long you sit outside before he stands, prompting you to do the same. Neither of you say anything, not until you reach your bedroom and Illumi tells you in a tone softer than you’d usually hear from him that he has something he must do, so you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.

You turn to go to bed, but he grabs your wrist. He doesn’t look at you for a moment, seemingly considering something. Then, he stiffly leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead rather robotically. Sometimes you wonder if he is a robot, it really would explain a lot.

The kiss ends soon after it begins.

“Get some rest. You look bad.”

You huff a little, but can’t bring yourself to actually be offended due to the thinly veiled concern in his tone.

The sleep you get is better than you expected. Maybe not having a mass murderer eyeing you up while you try and rest is a reason for that.

Illumi doesn’t show up for the entirety of the next day, which is a little strange. He likes seeing you off in the morning, giving you a kiss before he departs - you’re certain he copied it from a romance movie you used to enjoy watching from time to time. You don’t question his absence too much, you don’t exactly enjoy his company, after all.

The day you have is better than the last. Illumi’s mother seems to be a bit less of a bitch than usual. That’s a win in your book.

It doesn’t take long for you to be back in your warm bed, wrapped up in covers and drifting off to sleep.

You wake up to the feeling of something wet hitting the tip of your nose, and quiet breathing above you.

“Are you awake?”

You are now. It’s pitch black in the room, but you can make out Illumi looming over, his hair framing around you like some makeshift cage.

Still sleepy, you groan a little, “Illumi? What… time is it?”

Something wet hits the bed.

“2:57 AM.”

Huh. You breathe in through your nose. Illumi absolutely reeks. Metallic, is it? You’re not sure it’s the best idea to comment on it.

“Oh. Okay.”

Another drip of something onto the blanket. He doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“… Yes.”

Another.

You gulp. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t think so.”

Another drip, this time it hits your arm.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes narrow in the darkness.

“No.”

The silence is deafening. Your hands clutch onto the end of the blanket. He leans impossibly closer, and the stench of whatever is on him becomes all to familiar. He’s smelt like it before, but never this strong.

“How long were the help bothering you?”

“Since I got here.” There’s little point in trying to lie about it now.

“If you hide something from me again I’ll break three of your fingers.”

A little specific, but the threat certainly does the job.

“Okay. I’m… sorry.” You’re not.

Finally, he pulls away, eyes still trained on your face.

“Go to sleep.”

You don’t. You’re certain that you can’t, at least not for tonight. Especially not after hearing him turn the shower on, and after he’s done leave the room once more.

Instead, you sit and stare at the ceiling, and wonder if any of those in the basement will even have three fingers left of them, by the time he’s done.

#tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere illumi zoldyck #yandere illumi x reader #yandere illumi #yandere hxh #yandere hxh x reader #tw implied noncon #implied noncon #tw noncon #tw vomit #tw vomit mention #tw angst #tw pregnancy mention #tw pregnancy

[ghyulia]

𝗢𝗯𝗲𝘆 𝗠𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀! 𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆’𝗿𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗧𝘆𝗽𝗲

p1 | p2

⋆ ᶠᵗ. ᴸᵘᶜⁱᶠᵉʳ & ᴹᵃᵐᵐᵒⁿ

this was in my drafts for a long time and I finally finished it up..whew. It's not the best but I hope it's enjoyable :)

❕ How do the demon brothers react when they overhear that they’re your ideal type?

𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗲𝗿

⋆ Smug as hell.

⋆ At first, he pretends that he doesn’t hear it. He just continued doing whatever he was doing. Truthfully, he was a bit shocked that he was your ideal type. When you first came to the Devildom, you two never really saw eye-to-eye. He would rather die than admit that most of his animosity towards you came from the fact that you, a human, were slowly making pacts with all of his brothers. It felt like you were stealing them from him, and Lucifer hated it. Eventually, he realized that your intentions were far from that. (And he began to want to be in a pact with you, too). Lucifer decides to head to his study instead of confronting you there and then, a small yet smug smirk adorning his face. He'll let you come to him.

⋆ Eventually, you do swing by to see him, completely unaware that he had heard your previous conversation.

⋆ "Hey Luci! How's it going?" You smile. It had become a regular routine for you to stop by The Prideful First Born's study and check up on him. You knew that you and Lucifer hadn't always been on the best terms, especially at the beginning of the exchange program, but as time went by, you came to love and admire him deeply. You tried your best to keep your little crush under wraps though, in fear that it might taint your relationship with him forever.

⋆ Lucifer deduces that now is the right time to talk to you about what you said. Of course, he reciprocates the feelings. He has never felt the way he does with you with anybody else, and he's sure he never will.

⋆ "..So I'm your type, huh?" Lucifer asks. Your eyes widen and you look at him with what can only be described as a wild expression. "W-W-What..? You heard that? Erm..I mean I guess I said that because you are closest to the type of guy I would want as my significant other, you know? Not that...ₙₒₜ ₜₕₐₜ ᵢ'ₘ ₛₐyᵢₙg ₜₕₐₜ…" You trail off. You were saying that. You wanted him, more than anything. The Firstborn smiles. Then he lets out a laugh. You just stare at him, wondering what could possibly be so funny?

"Hush it, (name)." "You're my type too."

"Oh.."

⋆ Lucifer's smile is genuine and wide. How did a human like you manage to steal his heart so effortlessly? He'll never know. And Lucifer doesn't think that he really cares. As long as you're his.

𝗠𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻

・❥・He's in shock! Poor bby isn't used to hearing that he's someone's first choice, or ideal type at that :(

・❥・Mammon doesn't know what to do. He's as red as hellfire noodles, and the only thing on his mind is to make a beeline to the door he came from. He was never supposed to hear that!

・❥・In his attempt to sneak out, he knocks over a vase. Crash! He watches it break into a million little pieces. The noise catches your attention, so you excuse yourself from your conversation and head to the adjacent room, only to find a guilty, wide-eyed, blushing Mammon.

・❥・"...Mams? What's going on here?" You look shocked. "Were you eavesdropping?" "NO! Errr.. well not technically..I didn't mean'ta! I just happened to be in this room, and then I accidentally heard ya saying I was yer type! (Name), You've gotta believe me!" Mammon blabbers.

・❥・At this point, you're both redder than ever. "I believe you Mammon...but how do you feel?... About what I said, I mean." You mumble, hoping to gauge his feelings about your somewhat accidental confession. You had no idea that he was going to hear you say that he was your ideal type, but now that it's gotten to this, you might as well hear how he feels about it too, right?

・❥・"Well...it's only natural that the GREAT Mammon is your ideal type! I'm amazing, aren't I?" Mammon says. He notices your forlorn expression. "..Ahem. I guess what I'm tryna say is..yer my type too, human." Mammon all but whispers, pushing his glasses down his face in an attempt to cover the blush that decorates his face. Not that it does much. You giggle and move a little closer to him, before leaving a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad to know the feelings are mutual."

・❥・"Yea..Me too." Mammon smiles.

Maybe this is what it feels like to be the luckiest guy in all of Devildom. Heck, in all of the three worlds. The Avatar of Greed doesn't think he'll ever feel this way with Grimm.

that's it! I kind of like it but idk hehe

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader

[wttcsms]

as it was ; suguru geto.

pairing suguru geto x f!reader  word count 4.2k  synopsis suguru comes back, only to find that you've been waiting and wanting this whole entire time. content contains modern no curses!au, gojo's sister!reader, brother's best friend, creampie, pet names (good girl, baby), most of the fic is geto's introspection, possessive sex, mutual pining/longing author’s notes im not even horny for geto like that, but i wanted to write angsty smut abt spreading ur legs for a guy that left u & who else is better for this than geto <3

First words are always a bit tricky to get right, especially whenever he has to take into account that he essentially ghosted you a couple of years ago, after taking your virginity no less, and now he’s back in the godforsaken city he swore he was never coming back to, and he’s just at a loss about what to say and more importantly, how to say it. 

He supposes an apology, for starters, would be a good first move. And maybe it would be, could be, should be, if only he wasn’t him and you weren’t you, and the two of you were not something so confusing and intricate that it’s hard to put into words and harder still to describe with emotions. The two of you are something raw and painful, both of you taking turns playing both sadist and masochist. 

Even to himself, the extent of your relationship sounds twisted, but there was always an underlying purity to it, something that justified its existence. To this day, Suguru Geto is certain that you’re the only person who ever loved him for him, with a love so pure and just that he tries to hide it from everyone else before they can get their filthy hands on it and taint it, twist it into something it’s not. 

Sorry I left won’t cut it, and Geto doesn’t even bother trying to come up with any other variations of apology because it’s not necessarily your forgiveness that he’s come back for. The opportunity to say “I’m sorry” and have it actually mean something has long since passed. All that’s left to say is the truth for why he left, which for some odd reason, seems even harder to do than his original disappearing act.

I missed you — that’s a slight improvement. It’s the truth, if not an understatement of it. He doesn’t regret leaving Tokyo, he just regrets leaving you. Which he could say, if you would actually open the door to face him. 

He figures it’s what he deserves. He deserves worse, if he’s going to be entirely honest. He deserves a slap to the face, or a kick to his balls, or for you to tell him that you hate him, that you never want to see him ever again. 

He knocks on your apartment door, harder this time, as if it’s something urgent. And maybe it is. He’s felt more like himself than he ever has after moving, but the solitude of the countryside got boring soon after, leaving him only with the ghosts from his past to keep him company. He thinks if he doesn’t see you, in the flesh, he might actually go insane. 

He knocks again, only to be met with more silence and a door that’s starting to become more of a familiar sight than he would like. Fuck, what is he even doing? Showing up here was a bad idea to begin with, and it’s only seemingly getting worse by every agonizing second that ticks by. Even if you do open the door, there’s always the chance that you won’t let him get a single word in — that’d be the smart choice, anyway. 

And you’re a bright girl, don’t get him wrong. Something about the Gojo bloodline makes your family incapable of producing anything less than prodigal sons and daughters. If you’re not proof of this fact, there’s your older brother.

Yet another reason why showing up here is such a shitty plan. Satoru will catch wind of his visit, and when he does, he’ll show no restraint in showing Suguru what all of his private boxing lessons are good for. A broken nose and missing tooth would be a fair exchange to see you for at least a second, though. A tradeoff that he doesn’t need to debate on. 

You have to leave your apartment eventually. Suguru dances with the idea of just making camp outside your door and waiting for your stubbornness to fizzle out. It’ll be embarrassing, and your neighbors will surely have something to say about it, but it would be well worth it.

He hears the ding! of the elevator opening and human reflex causes his head to turn at the sound of the noise. 

Oh.

The world becomes contradictory at this very moment. The air suddenly stills, but the atmosphere itself seems to come alive at the same time. Stagnant air, bursting with electricity and something awe-inspiring. Everything seems to slow down, but suddenly he’s acutely aware of just how alarmingly fast his heart is beating. It’s been a while since he’s last seen you, not even bothering to check up on your social media because he knows one DM from you would have him crossing the ocean to be back by your side. 

The reason why you weren’t answering your door was simply because you weren’t even home. Relief floods his body, makes him less tense, only for him to stiffen up once more whenever his eyes trail over to the warm body awfully close to you. 

Or maybe it’s the other way around, since you’re the one clinging onto him.

You and Kento Nanami both look like you two have seen a ghost, and all things considered, you wouldn’t be wrong. 

“What are you doing here?” You’re the first to speak, with Nanami’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and it’s this closeness that’s the only thing Suguru finds himself able to focus on. It’s been years. He shouldn’t feel this way. You’re free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s your life. He’s the one that chose to walk out of it, anyway. 

“I just wanted to talk,” he answers. Which isn’t a lie. He wanted to talk. He wanted to fight and make up and fuck your brains out and beg for forgiveness and cook you breakfast in the morning and warm your bed, amongst other things, too. But, he figures the condensed version of his list will do, especially considering that three’s a crowd, and most of his itinerary was for your ears only. “Did I come at a bad time?” 

You bite your bottom lip, slowly removing yourself from Nanami’s grip. Nanami looks at you first, concern evident in his warm eyes, eyes that you wish were just a bit darker and colder, so that they would be the ones you’re so accustomed to drowning in. 

You like Nanami well enough. He’s kind and looks out for you, and sometimes you even consider making a move on him first since he’s too much of a gentleman to cross any boundaries. Then again, you don’t think Nanami sees you as anything more than a little sister, and the last time you fucked one of your brother’s best friends… 

It’s why you just give Nanami a smile, one that tells him that you’ve got this under control. His facial expression doesn’t give any indication of what he’s thinking, but the glare he sends Suguru’s way says enough. 

Suguru can appreciate the fierce protectiveness Nanami has towards you, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. Especially when it’s Suguru that’s considered to be the threat.

You move to unlock your door once Nanami makes his reluctant exit, and when you enter your apartment, you conveniently don’t shut the door. Suguru trails behind you.

You turn on the lights, your living room and kitchen blending together in an open-floor plan, bathed in the stark, white lights hanging from your high ceilings. Your apartment, at least what Suguru can see of it, is tastefully decorated. Courtesy of your mother, he’s sure. He would ask about her, ask how she’s doing, but he figures now’s just not the right timing. 

It doesn’t seem to be the right timing for anything he wants to say. He wants to mention that he’s thought about you, thought about reaching out — sometimes to explain himself, and other times just to discuss the mundane aspects of life — but he thinks that would be even worse than apologizing. It would be cruel of him to dangle this information in your face, haunt you with the knowledge that all this time, he’s truly been avoiding you. Knowing you, you would have questioned him on why he didn’t bother reaching out, and he would have been stuck admitting that it’s simply because he was too scared that you wouldn’t answer. 

“Want a drink?” You ask him, back facing him as you peer into your fridge. He catches a glimpse of shiny glass bottles, water bottled in Europe and with the optimal pH balance, he’s certain of it. His throat feels a bit dry, but he tells you no. 

“I drank enough water on the drive up here,” he tells you, which again, isn’t a lie. Suguru feels a bit pleased with himself, even if it is a bit narcissistic of himself for expecting a pat on the back for doing something so simple. He supposes it’s just because he’s gotten so used to never being honest with himself — or others, for that matter — so his current streak for telling the truth seems like something to celebrate. 

“I didn't drink enough.” You say, and he can’t tell if it’s alcohol you’re talking about or water. You’re a lightweight; yet another trait that seems to be passed down the Gojo family. That explains Nanami escorting you home, then. 

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?” Suguru helps himself to taking a seat on the white couch in your living room. Because there’s no walls separating the two different spaces, he can still look at you from this position as you rest your elbows on your kitchen’s island, as if needing the support. 

“If you wanted me to know, you’d let me know.” It’s the way you say it that reveals that this comment isn’t made just in reply to his current question, but for everything else Suguru was going to follow it with. Don’t you want to know where I went? Don’t you want to know why I left? 

It’s amazing what humans are capable of. Nearly six years since the two of you have lost contact — since Suguru broke all contact — and yet, you can still read him just as well as he can read you. You see him for what he is, not whatever mask he wants to disguise himself with, and it’s scary, he thinks. Scary to be seen by someone. And nice. It’s nice to have someone know you’re a monster and still not run away.

He’s not quite sure what that says about you.

“It’s a bit of a funny story.” He says, trying to steer this conversation to a more lighthearted tone even though the two of you are nowhere close to feeling light and the jury’s still out on whether or not Suguru Geto has a heart. “You don’t need the reminder, but don’t ever tell Mei Mei a secret you want to keep.” 

The mention of your shared friend — if Mei Mei can even be considered one — makes the corners of your pretty mouth tilt upward. Mei Mei was born with a silver spoon, but the running joke is that it wasn’t in her mouth because she bartered with the doctor and blackmailed him into giving her a gold one. If you have the funds, Mei Mei has the information you’re looking for. 

She’s the only number Suguru saved in his phone contacts, and it’s only because he knew that if he needed anyone else’s number, Mei Mei would readily give it after her Venmo request goes through. 

“Of course she would tell you my address.” You say, but you don’t sound upset at all. Just amused, like this whole situation is something endearing, and you don’t harbor any ill feelings towards either of them, even though both Suguru and Mei Mei technically violated your trust. Suguru more so than Mei Mei, but, well, semantics. 

“Aren’t you mad?” The “at me” is unspoken.

“Mei Mei is a free spirit.” It’s a joke, and Suguru makes a sound from his throat that resembles a laugh. Mei Mei may do whatever she wants, but nothing about her comes free.

He knows you know what he was actually asking. He’s been trying to gauge your reaction to everything he says, trying to see if you hate his guts or not. 

“I missed you.” You tell him suddenly, and while he’s imagined those words coming out of your mouth, it still shakes him up a bit. It’s hard constantly posturing as if he’s cool and collected, nothing ever bothering him, his body and expression never betraying him. But it’s his heart that gives him away, and it’s heart that you hold, and no matter what face he puts on, he knows that you’ll know what the words he won’t say are.

“Don’t apologize.” You continue, closing the distance between you two and opting to take a seat next to him. There’s about six inches of space separating you two. The distance shapeshifts in his mind, sometimes becoming mere millimeters and sometimes feeling more like there’s an ocean between you both. 

The sorry was on the tip of his tongue and it traveled all the way there from his heart. It would be a waste of a journey for him to not say it, but he’s certain the apology would do more harm than good, even if it is genuine. 

Suguru stands out against the stark white of your apartment. Your mom likes the aesthetic of it, and since it’s your parents’ money, you merely shrugged and let her do whatever she wanted. In his black pants and black sweatshirt, he looks almost out of place in your home. 

The thought that he doesn’t belong makes your heart hurt more than the burn of the alcohol from tonight going down your throat. 

You don’t waste time wondering where Suguru went because for all intents and purposes, you never even knew where he came from to begin with. You knew him since you were children; your favorite out of all your brother’s friends because it was always Suguru who let you tag along and trail behind them. No one really knows much about Suguru’s life, his past, present, and future all a big blur to anyone but himself. From the way he slowly turns to face you, dark eyes meeting yours, you start to think of the possibility that maybe not even Suguru is an open book with himself. 

Suguru looks like a shadow, standing out from the brightness of everything that is surrounding him in your living room. You want to ask him the questions that plague your mind ever since he’s been gone, but you don’t, because you’re scared he is a shadow. One wrong move, and he just disappears from your grasp once again. 

There are the hard-hitting questions, of course. The ones that search for why he left and why he told no one and why he didn’t bother taking you. Then there are the gentler ones that would still require him to rip himself open and bare himself to you, things like how’s your new place and meet anyone interesting? You feel his gaze travel from your eyes to the slope of your nose and the apples of your cheek, downward to your lips. The intensity of his stare makes you nervously lick your lips, a tiny, quick action, but his eyes greedily take in the sight of the tip of your pink tongue casually making an appearance, only to retreat behind your pretty pink, glossed lips. 

“Are you mad that I came back?” Suguru finds himself taking the role of interviewer, since it’s evident to the two of you that you know better than to bother asking him any questions. He feels like you’re treating him a bit like a stray cat, all cautious and scared of provoking him or forcing him to run away. He wants to tell you that this is not the case and that he actually plans on staying this time around, but he hasn’t entirely convinced himself yet, so he’s not going to break your heart with any more empty promises. 

“No. Like I said, I missed you.” He wants to be able to blame your honesty on account of you being drunk, but he knows that you’ve just always been honest to a fault. 

“You shouldn’t.” He tells you this, and you scoff. Probably because Suguru is the last person who should be giving any sort of life advice. 

“Guess what I’m thinking.” You say, and Suguru feels something come alive from within, like he’s been frozen for the past six years, and the more he gets to bask in the warmth of your presence, the more he starts to defrost. There’s not a single hint of anger or malice in your tone, just the familiar, lighthearted, girlish tone of yours. 

“That you think I’m a creep and want me to get the hell out.” 

You frown, rolling your eyes, tucking your feet beneath you to get more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m thinking about that last time you told me I shouldn’t be doing something.” There’s a gleam in your bright eyes that clearly spells out desire, and Suguru is very, very close to defrosting. In fact, there’s a heat that’s beginning to settle deep in him, and maybe he should know better than to indulge in it, but it’s been years, and you are sitting here in front of him, pretty and fresh, and his hindbrain takes the driver’s seat. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he does know, and he knows that you know that he knows, just as you seemingly know everything about him. Maybe not about his childhood — or lack, thereof — or what he’s been up to, but you know the important stuff. The things that make him tick and all the words he fails to say. Three words. Three words that he doesn’t think he’ll ever muster enough courage to say to you, but from the look in your eyes, you already know. 

“I’ll jog your memory.” 

And suddenly, your lips are pressed against his. You’re kissing him, and like the lovesick fool he is, he’s kissing you back. It’s pure muscle memory, maybe even animal instinct. He thought that leaving Tokyo was the right thing to do, and for the most part, it was, but with your lips perfectly melding with his own, he thinks that leaving was stupid. 

Making out is such a juvenile ordeal, but he relishes in it because Suguru feels like he’s spent most of his youth trying to outrun it, and now he’s trying to take advantage of what his boyhood should have consisted of. The kisses are now bordering on sloppy and hazy, and somehow, you end up straddling his lap. He’s hard, and he should be embarrassed at popping a boner just from wet kisses, but it’s you. You have an effect on him that no one else does. His Achilles. The one weakness only he can feel. 

Suguru knows that he is not a good person because a good person doesn’t go behind their best friend’s back and fucks their little sister. He had told, thirty minutes before introducing you to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, that the two of you shouldn’t be doing that. Suguru knows that he is not a good person because he cannot be any happier at the fact that history has a funny way of repeating itself. Six years later, and the two of you are back in a similar position.

You’re starting to rut against him, your dress riding up your thighs and exposing more of your skin to him. Suguru helps himself to handfuls of your soft flesh, squeezing in a manner that can’t be defined as gentle, but he loves how you take him as he is without any sort of complaint. All you do is let out a low moan, your pantyclad pussy grinding against his equally clothed bulge. 

Your movements are a bit desperate, frenzied. You’re getting lost in pleasure already, and he hasn’t even done much to elicit such a reaction. The idea that only he can get you this riled up with doing so little makes him impossibly harder, and he looks down, realizing that you’re so soaked, your panties are practically translucent. 

The two of you have the option of taking things slow, but neither of you want to do that. When you spend some time starving, you don’t savor the meal, you scarf it down. 

That’s what the two of you are — hungry, greedy — as you both hastily strip as much clothing as you can bear to spend time getting out of. Your minidress is tossed carelessly on the living room floor, and Suguru can only bother with unzipping his pants and pushing down his briefs just enough to free his cock. 

The intrusion of the tip of his cock entering your wet, needy cunt is less of an intrusion and instead akin to something rightfully returning to where it belongs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and he relishes this feeling. This wholeness, this concept of being complete.

The inviting warmth of your pussy makes him want to cum right on the spot, but he can’t waste it. He’s spent years pining after you, missing you, and he wants you to feel like the time apart had been worth it. 

“I missed you.” This time it’s him who makes the admittance. You tighten up at this confession, and it evokes a low groan from him, almost as if you had forced the sound to come from all the way down his throat.

“I know.” You gasp out, not able to speak clearly with how deep Suguru is hitting. Your living room is filled with the wet clicks and slaps of skin against skin, your juices coating his cock every time he pulls out. 

The vein on the underside of his cock rubs against your walls, and the slight curve of it enables him to hit that gummy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You’ve never given much thought to cocks, but you know that Suguru’s is the prettiest of them all. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He grunts out, lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck before biting down; gentle enough not to draw blood, sharp enough to still leave a mark. You rock against him, hips moving in tandem with his thrusts, the steady hum of pleasure continuously building up in your lower belly. You are dizzy with pleasure; blanketed in it, being spoon fed it. 

He doesn’t need you to say it to know it’s true, but you moan it out anyway, both to appease him and because there’s a sort of pride in knowing that you belong to him. 

“I’m yours. I belong to you.” The words are separated, punctuated, by the little gasps for air you give out because with every word, he thrusts up even harder, hitting that special spot that will have you cumming all over him, making a mess. 

“Yeah?” It comes out sounding like a shaky breath, and he’s close, you know it, you can feel it. 

Calloused pads belonging to fingers much larger than yours are being pressed against your clit. You’re soaked, and the dryness of his hands combining with your overall slickness gives way to delicious friction that has you cumming with his name as a broken moan filtering through your swollen lips. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He mutters, relishing in the way your walls tighten, spasm, clenching and unclenching sporadically as your body loses its energy and you press yourself up against his chest.

He follows after just a few more sloppy thrusts, the last one forcing himself as deep inside of you as possible. His cum is hot and thick, and it’s filling you to the brim. If he pulls out now, it’ll flood out of you, and the thought is both sad and hot at the same time. You want his cum inside of you, to serve as a reminder that this is real, that he’s real. 

But seeing the physicality of him staking his claim, white seed dripping out of you, turns you on. Him, too, with the look of fascination and boyish wonder he has in his eyes as he stares at how the two of you are connected.

Before he can bother with confirming a round two, a sharp knock on the door has the two of you comically jumping a bit in surprise, both of you glancing at the door and then at each other.

“[Name], I know you’re in there!” You freeze. 

Satoru. 

Suguru wants to try to calm you down, whisper to you that everything’s going to be fine, but the anger laced in his best friend’s — former best friend’s — voice is enough to make him freeze up, too. Not just his icy tone, but what he says.

“I know you’re back, too, Suguru.”

#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #one shot #jjk x reader #jjk smut #angst #drabble #imagine

[hysteria-things]

Can you make nsfw abcs with Matt and Chris separately please??

NSFW ALPHABET

read matt’s here

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i had a ball doing this LMAO

posting this and then a matt fic later today :)

hope you like it anon!

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

a lot of people say chris wouldn’t be the best at aftercare but i honestly disagree. he’ll do anything to make you feel comfortable and safe before he tends to his own needs.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

chris low-key likes his lips. wherever he kisses you he loves how perfect his lips feel on your body. (a bonus is his hair. he goes spiraling on the inside whenever you tug on it)

man loves your ass. the way it jiggles and shit at the slightest thing; muah chefs kiss. especially how it recoils when he’s taking you from behind.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

hates using condoms and will always cum inside you. you’re obviously on birth control, but also have extra plan b’s just in case. will admire the way it oozes out of you, always thinking about how hot you look with his cum inside you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

will never admit this but he enjoys it when you “tease” him in public; aka doing normal things and getting turned on by it. you can simply bend down to get something off a shelf or lean against him in crowded areas and bro is bricked up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

definetly has like two bodies before you. although, sex comes naturally to him, and knows what he’s doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

LOVES LOVES LOVES BACKSHOTS. argue with the wall.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

leans more toward serious but if you guys aren’t really going at it he’ll pop a joke here and there.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

keeps it trimmed very nicely. the thought of being clean shaven will make him feel bald.

he really doesn’t give a fuck if you have hair or not. as long as the pussy is fire he’s not complaining!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

will make out with you until you can’t breathe. especially if his brothers are home, he’ll make sure to keep you quiet by having you moan in his mouth instead.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

if he’s away on tour or a vacation, he has no problem pulling up the videos you guys took in his my eyes only.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

dumbification and breeding. it honestly turns him on even more when you can’t speak and all you can think about is his dick buried inside you. gives him motivation because he’s the only one that can do that to you and he wants to make sure you know it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

either the bed or anywhere there’s a surface. a desk or counter, for example. he loves bending you over taking you right there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

the sounds you make. your moans and squeals are like music to his ears and that alone can send him over the edge in minutes.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs)

THREESOMES. would rather die than share you with anybody else; he’s too protective over you for that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

a mixture of both, but likes giving a little more. will always be up for a blowjob, but whenever he eats you out it’s still for his pleasure. he’ll thrust his pelvis into the mattress to get some friction. skill-wise, let’s just say he knows the spots that will make your eyes roll back and legs shake.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough for sure. his mission will be to wreck your body. however, if you guys are having sleepy sex then he’ll go slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

will do them anywhere anytime. at a party? he’ll take you to the bathroom. at a clothing store? to the dressing room, you’ll go.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

if you want to try something new, he’ll be down to do it. if there’s something you guys try and don’t like, then it’ll never happen again. he’s glad you guys tried it out either way.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he wishes he could do like five but in reality, he can do two. although, he can last for a while until you’re completely satisfied.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn’t own any but you do. so when you guys are at your house, he’ll use the vibrator on you. it’s pretty rare when you do it though because he likes to do the pleasuring. not some toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

will tease you just to mess with you and make you mad. he finds it funny when you cross your arms and huff at him, but the teasing will be worth it in the end.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

dirty talks A LOT, but when he’s not he’ll grunt every time he thrusts back into you. he will let a whimper slip if you clench out of nowhere and it throws him off guard.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

will take in how perfect you wrap around his cock. his jaw will slack as he watches himself pump in and out of you, especially if you cum and it starts to drip down his shaft.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

he’s big 100%, but more girthy than lengthy. in every picture i’ve seen, he’s always had a bulge.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

chris is a horndog 25/8. you could be driving back to your house and he’ll call you to have you turn around.

“i’m horny again.”

“i JUST left???”

“sorry.”

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

bro knocks the fuck out LMAO he’ll see if you need anything afterward, but he’s half asleep when he asks.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

[ofloveandstardust]

A/N: I saw that Cain and Abel aren't like present in the show and I know they're technically Adam and Eve's kids, but let me have this please— I just wanna gush about this since it's been invading my mind.

cw: fem!reader (no pronouns, but reader is called wife/mama/mommy/mother)

Imagine: Being Adam's wife and having two sons with him.

I can definitely see him being excited over having sons. Like, hell yeah! But but but also— I have this feeling in my gut that he'd be okay with being a girl dad, sooo after having your sons he's just like "Wifey, Sugartits, Babycakes—" Any nickname under the sun until you finally ask him what he wants and he just says he wants a daughter.

You can't tell me he didn't name Abel— and 💀 It's even funnier since Abel does have a little more resemblance of his father than Cain does. Cain was named by you and looks more like you. However, you can say his attitude is similar to Adam's. I can see them both having Adam's eyes when thinking up of how they'd look, but I'm leaving things up in the air. Just for this, because I think it'd be neat, the boys are twins. Cain is the older twin while Abel is the younger one.

Cain is kind of a menace...but still a good kid. He always pulls that "Because I'm the oldest" card with Abel and if he ever whacked his brother and he started crying, Cain immediately does that thing where the sibling just panics and stops them from crying or else he's getting in trouble with mama and papa. He teases his younger brother, but will get upset if anyone tries to bully Abel. Oh, but the biggest menace he is towards? Adam. Cain doesn't hate his dad at all. No, he just prefers you more and lowkey is a mama's boy. Adam can have Mr. Perfect (Abel), but he at least has mama.

Then Adam just straight up has beef with his own son 💀 Because Cain takes up your time and he swears the little shit is taunting him when you're not looking. Cain comes up when you and Adam are kissing or anything like that, holding his hands up like, "I want Mama's kisses too... 🥺" You can't resist because that's your baby and he's so adorable. There's this stare down between Adam and Cain...meanwhile Abel, being the good bean that he is, waddles towards you all and goes, "Mama! Papa! Look what I drew! :D" and it's just a sweet little drawing of him, his brother, you and Adam.

Speaking of Abel, he's a good boi. Cain calls him Mr. Perfect sometimes because Abel has some natural talent. He's especially good with music, much to Adam's delight. Still, he looks up to his brother and despite Cain's jealousy, they do get along nicely. They have this little game where they're building their own city and decide over several elements of it. Abel somehow always brings sheep into the mix, but his brother isn't complaining.

Abel doesn't play favorites and says he loves you and Adam equally. He always wants to make sure the two of you are present at the same time when showing his accomplishments or what he's found. Speaking of which, he has special interests that last for a while until he moves on to another one or some just last a very long time. An example would be sheep, as mentioned before. He even has a lamb plushie (I can see him watching Lamb Chop's Play Along and loving the show). Cain knows how precious this little lamb is to Abel and will raise chaos if it ever gets lost or stolen (he calls the plush "The Chosen").

Here's a funny little thing: the boys not recognizing Adam in the mask he wears. From the day they were born, they always saw their father without his mask and have grown used to seeing his actual face. One day, they ask you where he was and you tell them it's work related but he'll be back to teach them some new songs. Just imagine Adam coming back, calling out that he's home, which cause the boys to rush up to him. Then they just stop because... "Mama, who's this stranger in our house!?" Abel literally starts crying— saying this isn't papa. Meanwhile Cain's mind immediately says violence is the answer (thanks, Adam). You have to calm both boys down and explain to them about the mask.

Flight lessons are stressful. It all started when Cain began jumping off of the furniture and escalated to him jumping off the bunk bed (because it'd be adorable for them to have bunk beds). So, it seems like it was time to show the boys how to use their wings. It's harder than it looks. Abel isn't okay with jumping off from anywhere unless Cain is going to jump with him. Fine with his brother because he enjoys doing this. Eventually, they're able to fly and it's a joy! They can fly around Heaven with you and Adam and it's absolutely adorable.

Cain and Abel have different ways to refer to you and Adam. Cain calls Adam 'dad' or 'papa' but does call him 'father' when he's upset or serious. Meanwhile, he calls you 'mama', 'mommy', or 'mom' (mom is more frequent when around others or strangers) and it's rare when he calls you mother. Abel just calls you two mama and papa. He'll only use mother and father if he's around people he doesn't know or meeting for the first time.

I have more thoughts about these little beans such as how they are around Lute (#1 and only Babysitter), Emily (Abel affectionately calls her Auntie Em), Sera and possibly Lucifer and Charlie (because you can't tell me Adam would not brag about having kids 💀). Like, I can see Cain being brutally honest when he first sees Lucifer because he's that type of kid. Will 100% make a comment about the man's height. There's also the fact that both boys are into music like their father. Abel once asked, "So if that's Queen, then who's the King?" when Adam tells them about Queen. Also, I can very much see Cain getting into gardening. If you want more of these then let me know!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel fluff #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel

[salaciousdoll]

✩˚｡⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Girl Ride ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡✩

･˳ . ⋆ brought to you by Shinichiro Sano x Chubby!Fem!reader ･˳ . ⋆

Synopsis: Shinichiro takes you on a ride, will you hop on or no?

୨୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Be advised to the warnings of smut, Cockwarming, Cheating( a bunch of cheating with both of your relationships), exhibition( heavy here), public sex, agoraphilia, fat pussy justice here, final timeline au, shin is a bit cocky here and it’s because of you, implied creampie, big dick!Shin, voyeurism, 1st generation black dragons take a ride with you and Shin, Izana is your ex boyfriend who cheats on you with Shin’s girlfriend, your bestfriend is shin’s gf, do not try this in real life or else you’re can potentially end up on the se* offender list( you are warned), wrap it up everyone, pet names( Princess, doll, butterfly, and little mama by Benkei), I just feel like he’ll call girls he like that sorry not sorry, let me know if I missed anything

Wc: 3.1k

Minors do not interact, 18+

ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟNote from Salaciousdoll: I hope you all enjoy this just as much I enjoyed writing this. I haven’t been in the writing part of the fandom in a long time, so take this as a peace offering for neglecting these beautiful men and you girlies and guys that’s been following me because of them. These are my writing roots and I couldn’t completely forget about them, so thank you all and I hope you enjoy again. And again, do not try this for real specially on a motorcycle

ﾟ•┈୨ Salaciousber Masterlist ୧┈•ﾟ｡. •┈୨ Taglist ୧┈•ﾟ｡

The leaves were idyllic as they danced their way down the trees and onto the sidewalk in front of Shinichiro’s SS motors shop with Inupi. The sky was pitch black with brown clouds gathering across it since it was night. The season of fall was beautiful everywhere and you just couldn’t stop staring at the colorful leaves as four men spoke in the background. One of them was the man your “best friend” cheated on. The man was so quick to forgive her for her wrongs, but you weren’t. The feeling of being cheated on by your bestfriend and man hurts so much. You couldn’t understand what made her cheat on Shinichiro with your man.

The man you liked but didn’t love. She broke the girl code with him. Girl code you two valued ever since you were younger or in this case, teenagers. It was sickening to your stomach when you saw the video tape she sent to Shinichiro, it’s like she wanted to break the poor man's heart. The video did more damage to you than Shin by virtue of the movements and positions they did. What really got you when Shin showed it to you was the way he and she were laughing it up on camera. The words and phrases of “ stoppp, not anymore.” Or “ wouldn’t want them to find out so hush” were stamped into your head and as you looked closely, you noticed the settings of where they were fucking. In your bedroom and at the Halloween party you threw. The cat girl costume she had on and the ugly ass king costume he had on gave it away as well.

And how you know it was your room they were fucking in, the cheetah print sheets with the pink fur runner across the bed gave it away. You were so glad you didn’t sleep on your bed that night, instead you slept in Shinichiro’s bed. You and Shin were never supposed to happen but a part of you was glad it happened. His friends have been wanting y’all to happen since you got introduced to him by his cheating ass girlfriend, the same girl who introduced you to your boyfriend on the same day. His friends hated how love sick Shinichiro was over your friend. He needed better and you were better for him mainly because they saw how you were with your boyfriend when he came around his brother and friends—visiting the shop. So when Shinichiro told them of his scandal, during that moment; he got the video message from his girlfriend. You found out a day later and now you frequently visit Shinichiro and his friends at the shop.

You were still lost in your head when you heard a loud shout of your name being called, snatching you out of the daydream, you turned to the voice and saw Shinchiro smiling at you with his hand out, “ Let’s go riding, Doll.” That nickname, that’s the same nickname he called you while he was deep in your guts.

You smiled at the little snippet of your memory prior to taking his hand in yours and walking to his bike. You were about to get on when he suddenly turned to his friends, “ You all can go ahead, have to talk to { reader}. Meet ya’ out there?”

Wakasa nodded as Takeomi patted Shinichiro on the back and Benkei put his hand on Shinichiro’s head, ruffling his hair. They all left with smirks— looking at Shinichiro as they left, you raised an eyebrow, “ What’s wrong?”

Sitting on his bike, Shinichiro grabbed your hand and smiled up at you, “ I remember our conversation that night about how you wanted to experience exhibition and bike riding, let’s do it while we ride in the night, on the highway .” Your eyes widened and you looked around to see if anyone heard him, nobody was near you two.

He laughed and pointed to the front of the shop since you were in the back of the shop, “ Inupi’s up there handling closing the shop up so don’t worry about him and you should know that everyone else is out in the front waiting for us on their bikes. Hop on princess, cockwarm me as I drive us to a spot we went when we were your age and see the star in the big black ink.”

You laughed at his description of the sky, “ How is it gonna work? We could go to jail and end up on the register sex offender list Shin, we both don’t need to be on there and besides it was just something to lead to us fucking, I didn’t think you actually listened.”

Shinchiro squeezed your hand and looked at you with his pretty onyx eyes, “ We’re not gonna get caught because of you facing me while I drive us and besides you’re not moving an inch, the ride is. But say the word no and we can just stay here, doesn’t matter to me. I just want to be around you.” This was so wrong, especially when you were starting to feel something for Shinichiro after weeks together. That’s abnormal. This entire situation was because you were becoming no better than your best friend.

You thought about it and wanted to do it badly, especially with the ex-1st generation black dragon leader. You are years younger than the 43 year old— tempting automatically. Older man with a motorcycle was your dream, so you for sure said yes. He hurried to unzip his pants and stroked his hard cock three times. Fuck, you missed the feeling of his cock inside of you. Large and fulfilling were the words to describe him. Such a beautiful cock too, illustrated with a pretty, tan-blushed tip with one vein running on the side. The curve of his cock was so unique and beautiful to you, it curved to the right. He didn’t have a bunch of hair, it was trimmed down. You wanted to suck him, but they’ll have to wait. You were so glad that Shincihiro had a crazy amount of sex appeal with or without showing his dick. You were wet as he was holding your hand, only getting wetter at the thought of fucking in public.

You were glad you were slightly trimmed and got in the shower before this get together with Shinichiro and his friends. You swiftly moved your pretty cheetah print panties to the side after lifting up your mini skirt. Your pussy was so pretty to Shinichiro and will always be pretty to him. Your pussy was so fat and pretty, especially with your panties pulled to the side. He watched you placed your legs on the side of his— watching the way you shook on his body was enough to make him fuck you even more when you two get to the destination.

Shinichiro paid attention to the way you bit your lip to hold back a loud moan erupting from how far he stretched you out, “ Don’t hold back on me, princess. You know the deal already.” You could hear the sternness in his voice and knew he wasn’t playing. You were taking your time and teasing him with the little roll of your hips. Shinichiro had enough of your teasing and grabbed a hold of your love handles or hips and slammed you down on his cock.

“ Ahnnn, so deep… s’deep inside .”, You moaned out with your head thrown back and your eyes closed tightly. Shinchiro groaned at your pussy locking in on him. This ride was gonna be torture and fun. He was about to say fuck it all and just fuck you right and now, but Takeomi’s annoying bangs on the window and annoying ass voice was yelling at them about “taking too damn long” and “hurry up”.

Shinichiro revved his engine up, earning a moan from you as you clenched around him even more. The clench of your pussy around him was like the butterfly effect due to him moaning right after you, almost cumming inside of you.

He rode out his garage to his shop with the bike still vibrating underneath you two. Your clit was heavily affected by this because vibrations to the most sensitive part of your body never goes well. Shinichiro spoke to you after smacking your ass with his large, clammy hand, “ Open your mouth, I want you to hold my spit until we get to the highway. Can you, nmgh, can you do that for me, my pretty princess? Breathe play, okay? You can always opt out and swallow anytime just prepare the consequences.”

He tapped your chin with his finger and you obliged happily— tilting your head, so he could spit inside of it. And he did. If you had to describe his spit, it would be a warm watery filling. Tasted like beer and cigarettes though, not a good taste, but you’ll accept anything Shinichiro gives you.

You tried to make yourself look normal since his spit was in your mouth as he drove near his friends. Takeomi had a cigarette hanging out his mouth when he yelled out, “ Finally, now let’s go and why is she sitting like that?”

Shinchiro had a smug look on his face and looked at you, watching as you shook your head, speaking afterwards, “ Ask her, not me.” He knew you couldn’t speak, yet he still included you in to speak. Being teased is no fun. Takeomi looked in your eyes and saw how they were beginning to water and knew what exactly was happening, you were cockwarming Shinichiro. Takeomi’s face could’ve almost morph into the grinch with the way he was smirking— revving up his engine and riding off with loud laughter.

Wakasa was confused so he asked you the famous question, “ Why are you sitting like that, { reader}? You just want to sit like that or…?” Wakasa trailed off his sentence with a smirk as he sucked on his lollipop.

Benkei took notice of how bad you were shaking and chuckled to himself— fist bumping Wakasa and then Shinichiro after, patting you on the head when he was done with them, “ Cockwarming him, little mama. You’re so naughty and bold tonight, hope you’re ready for the ride, little mama. Let see how long you can hold on until you break.”

Your whine was muffled and Shinichiro chuckled, “ She’s doing something else too. Wanna join in on the teasing boys. All you have to do is ask her questions about anything and everything, she can’t talk not once and that’s mainly due to my spit inside of her mouth. If she does swallow and answer a question, you join the fray. Let’s have fun like we’re young again.” Shinichiro revived his engine three more times, pulling off afterwards with Wakasa and Benkei in tow.

He turned the corner and rode down the street catching up to Takeomi, who was waiting for them to catch up. Shinichiro wanted you to have a helmet on, but he needed to see your facial expression when you cum on his cock.

Shin rode over a speed hump and you both elicited a moan out each of your mouths, “ Fuck, you’re doing s’good f’me, princess. Grind on that shit.” And you did, well tried. You moved your hips back and forth causing both of you to grip on something. He gripped on his motorcycle's handles and you gripped onto his back. His eyes almost closed and Waka snapped him out of it with a shout of his name. Shinichiro looked over at Waka as an answer, “ Keep your eyes open, Shin, I know it’s some amazing pussy, but you gotta not crash, alright?”

Shinichiro gulped and nodded his head, as for you, you were trying not to swallow his spit but a part of you wanted to swallow to get fucked by all of them. What can you say? They were handsome, older men. Perfect for you. You were in your mid 20s and they were in their early 40s.

Wakasa smirked at you as you looked at him from behind Shin’s head, “ You wouldn’t mind telling us why and how you thought of this? Shinichiro isn’t this crazy and daring.” Wakasa smiled when he saw you roll your eyes at the bump Shinichiro hit on purpose, meaning his cock was reaching your cervix, making you feel so good that it was torturing trying to answer his question and trying not to moan out loud.

Takeomi tried next with a wide ass smirk on his face as he asked the question, “ How would Izana feel knowing you’re out here fucking his older brother on his bike? Hmm.” You closed your eyes tightly and tried to ignore their shouts of questions.

Benkei shouted a question next as they all spread out prior to riding together again, passing by multiple cars. “ The question is how would Mikey feel as well? I mean, with knowing that his crush is fucking his older brother. He’s gonna be so mad at both of you.”

Your eyes suddenly popped open and you lifted your head about to swallow to answer until Shincihiro spoke, “ Remember, princess, you speak, you get punished.”

You sighed and wrapped your arms back around Shin’s neck, your cunt was squeezing around his cock so good. In your head, it was jumbled and mushiness. You tried to make out words but couldn’t because you were too fucked out without even being fucked properly.

In truth, you wanted to say that you didn’t know about Mikey’s crush on you so how did they know, yet the words just weren't coming to you. Shinichiro kept driving until they got to the stop light and when he did, he pressed the brakes hard— your pussy squelched as his cock thrusted into you. You couldn’t help but to let out a muffled moan, “ Mmmph!”

Shinchiro kissed you as he moved your hips up and down with his big hands. He was glad nobody was at the stop light since it’s like 2 am in the morning, still nighttime too. The other three men watched as he fucked you. Each wanting a piece of you as they saw you trying to hold yourself together, “ my pretty little, nngh! Shit! Tighten that pussy up for me, just like this.” You were fucking in public and hope you got caught by the police. The thrill of it all is all too much and you were sure you were about to squirt anytime soon.

When the light turned green, Shinchiro rode off so fast and you clenched tightly around him because of the emotion of fear creeping into your body like a ghost taking possession of you. Shinichiro laughed when Benkei said something but you couldn’t make it out since his engine was so damn loud, well all of their engines were loud as hell in the night, plus with the way his dick pulsed inside of you, you couldn’t hear anything.

Shinichiro finally got to the stoplight for you to enter the highway and his dick felt so good inside of you because he was driving down and then straight. Every movement of his bike, his cock thrusted into your pussy, giving you the dick you wanted and needed for a long time.

Once you all got into the lanes with Shinichiro in the middle lane and the other three behind him in the other lanes, you rode off with speed, probably going over the speed limit. The breeze on your face, through your clothes, and on your pussy was beautiful and added a cold feeling to your pleasure. You were in love with the night at the moment.

Shinchiro kissed you prior to licking your lips with his warm tongue, “ Swallow now, butterfly. You can swallow now. Let me hear those pretty moans.”

You hurried and swallowed his spit, letting out a huge exhale after inhaling in his spit for about two minutes max, “ Ahhn, I ne- need moreee. Give me more Chiro’. Want you to cum inside this pussy just so I could take it back to your brother.”

You had to yell it out and he loved it even more. Waka definitely had to get you after this because there’s no way a girl this bold can slip through his fingers. Benkei almost told Shinichiro to stop by a vacant parking lot off the highway, he wanted to fuck you until you were crying and messy. And Takeomi wanted your tits in his face whilst riding him until he’s drained and dry.

Shinichiro started to move in a zig zag motion, zooming past two or three cars to get back to an empty like highway, “ fuck, baby.” He lifted your skirt and smacked your ass, “ Wanna me to fill you up and send you back to my little brother, yeah? Such a dirty little slut he lost…” he then gripped the fat of your ass in one hand while his other hand was still on his bike, “ Let’s teach my little brother a lesson, shall we? Izana wouldn’t like it, but he should’ve thought twice about his decision. I Keep - uughhh- telling him that.``

Shinichiro’s moans were a beautiful melody and you couldn’t get enough of it. Shinchiro seen an exit and let you grip onto his back with one arm and his neck with the other as you continued to grind on him. Your orgasm hit you as soon as he swerved into the exit lane, “ Fu-uhhhhhh, thank you. Thank you. M’cummin. M’ gonn— unnnn.”

Your pussy convulsed around his cock like a heartbeat as you came undone on his cock especially with the three pairs of eyes trained on your face as you held onto Shinichiro. You didn’t care about anything or couldn’t care about anything at the moment because your orgasm made you see blackness.

Shinichiro orgasmed as soon as he got up the hill of the exit of the highway, so he had to pull over on the curb because if he didn’t, he would’ve crashed. “ Shit— baby, fucking perfect. Aah— my little brother is never getting you back. Mmmgh.” He meant every word he said and the men behind him knew he was for real.

You were still shaking against his chest as you held onto him tightly with his cock pumping cum into your pussy. He was sure that your cream was dripping down his cock and onto his pants. He laughed at the feeling and thought, kissing your forehead and rubbing your back, “ You did perfect for me, pretty princess. Perfect pussy, perfect body and moans. My perfect little doll.” Your eyes closed as he kept kissing your semi-sweaty forehead with his bike still rumbling underneath you. Your pussy was soon gonna go into overstimulation from it and he knew you needed more. You deserved more.

He turned his head back to the men who stared at you and him silently, “ wanna share for tonight?” They all nodded their heads eagerly prior to him turning back to you as you slump against his chest, “ Gonna let them join in the fun, baby?” You nodded without any thought, soon letting out a small “ yes daddy”.

Shinichiro smiled and kissed your head again, “ Then, let’s go.”

ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟ Tagging: @chosoist @simpingfor-wakasa @honeybleed @angelshub and anyone else who wants to be tagged

ﾟ•┈© all right reserved to salaciousdoll, she does not give permission to steal, plagiarize, and translate.

#shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano smut #shinichiro sano #shinichiro sano x y/n #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x black!reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers angst #angelshubnetwork #chubby reader #x black reader #black reader #smut #fem reader #anime smut #anime x reader #anime x black!reader #anime men

[lila-went-missing]

I saw you wanted req's for Clarisse !! and I had a cute (well I thought it was cute) Hear me out !! You're Percy's older sister but you've been at camp for a few years so you and Clarisse have had more time to talk and get closer, sooo coincidentally once Percy came and after he and Clarisse had their fall out she finalized the relationship (not to be petty but just to get under his skin a little bit.. but also she didn't wanna do something to Percy and have you upset with her and ruin the progress y'all made.) But !! Percy only found out when you guys were eating at your table and Clarisse came by and didn't say anything to him, she kissed you but as she was walking away she muttered a half-assed apology to Percy. Bro's dumbfounded but you break the news to him, and as the loving brother he is and the fact you and Clarisse have known each other it's only fair he happy for you !! (You keep him safe from her.) SORRYYY this is so long but Clarisse makes me giggle, I hope you're having an amazing day !

I've been so excited to write this but I'm also such a procrastinator so sorry if this took a long time to come out. You're literally so sweet I hope you have an amazing day.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and wounds, it gets slightly suggestive once but nothing happens, cursing i think, I'm not going to lie to you this sucks especially the ending.

This took forever because I'm the medically expensive one in the family and I've been in and out of doctors offices for over a month now. This isn't proofread, I trust grammarly and move on. I love you all so much, enjoy my lovelies.

When the Waves Come In

Being a forbidden kid was anything but easy. Monsters could smell you more than others. The gods hated you. Trouble and tragedy seemed to track you down wherever you went, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The only perks? Having a cabin to yourself and being slightly more powerful than other demigods. If you were being honest, that wasn't really a fair trade.

Not to mention, the other demigods at Camp Half-Blood either hated or praised you. There was no in between. You were claimed only seven months after arriving at camp, this made a lot of unclaimed kids unhappy with you. Like it was your fault that Poseidon was kind of proud of you once? It's not like he's bothered to reach out since then.

Over the last three years of living at camp, you've made some decent friends. You got along pretty well with most of the Hephaestus kids, Beckendorf immediately taking a liking to you for your stubbornness. The Apollo kids liked you, they even let you help lead archery classes. But there was one person that you were closer with than anyone else. Clarisse. Your Clarisse.

You weren't friends. You were so much more than that. But at the same time, you weren't quite together either. It was very complicated. However, there was one thing you were both certain of, you like being near each other, and hated being separated. Oftentimes, she would sit at your table during meals, Chiron choosing to turn a blind eye. You would sneak her dessert every time she lost her privileges. You were her girl, that much, everyone knew.

When a new kid by the name Percy Jackson showed up at camp, you didn't think much of it. New kids arrived all the time, 90% of them never being claimed and getting left to rot by their godly parents in the Hermes cabin. It was sad, but it was the truth. You learned to live with it.

You assumed the same would happen to him, until you saw it. The horn that once belonged to the Minotaur. Grover claimed he had killed it with its own horn. Everyone believed it except Clarisse. You wanted to not believe it, but how else would he have the horn?

Of course, Clarisse being Clarisse, she had to prove that he was a fraud. The first time she did this, she was blasted by water into a wall, effectively shattering a mirror with the impact. She came to you, of course, a bruise forming over her stomach and chest. You were honestly surprised that she didn’t some internal bleeding deal going on.

“I just want him to own up to being a liar!” She ranted. “Is that too much to ask? I mean, he’s 12, he’s like 4’11, he has no muscle what so ever! How am I expected to believe that he, of all people, killed the Minotaur?” She paced back and forth over the floor of your cabin for what felt like an eternity.

“I mean, this kid shows up out of literally no where, and is getting all the glory in the world. Is everyone here really that blind? There’s no way he managed to actually kill it, yet he’s getting all the praise? How does that add up?”

You stood from your place on your bed, walking towards her and placing your hands on her shoulders. Your hands squeeze gently, trying to ground her.

“Breathe,” you whisper, “I know it sounds highly unlikely. I know you’re pissed, you have every right to be.” Honestly, if the only way you could ever get your father’s attention was through glory and winning fights, even then, seldom getting any acknowledgement whatsoever. You have to admit, you’d be pretty pissed in this situation too. I mean the only thing you could do to get anything, even an admittance that you exist, is immediately taken over by this random kid no one’s heard of? Yeah, she’s rightfully pissed.

“But I need you to breathe before you have a nervous breakdown, honey.” Your hands rub up and down her arms, feeling her muscles slowly relax.

“I wouldn’t have had a nervous breakdown.” She mutters.

“I know, but I might’ve.” Knowing her, the way she is behind closed doors, she most definitely would have. But you let her believe that she would be okay.

“It’s just not fair you know? He hasn’t done anything. Even if he did kill the Minotaur, there’s no way he wasn’t running purely on adrenaline and rage. He wouldn’t be able to do that again if he tried. He’s getting all of this praise, and for what? Existing? Being, not even a man, a boy?” Her voice is much much quieter this time, barely making it to a whisper. If it wasn’t for your proximity you probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I know, I know, love.” You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around her. “Just think, in a week or two, people will probably forget all about it. He’ll go back to being a regular 12 year old, nothing special.” Realistically, you know that sounds kind of bad, but what else are you supposed to say to her.

There was a part of you, no matter how small that part may be, that knew that wasn’t going to happen. Most demigods aren’t able to do something like that and live through it. But you knew he wasn’t like most demigods.

You knew he would get claimed, soon, most likely. From the moment you laid eyes on him it’s like you could feel it. What happened in the bathrooms only confirmed your suspicions. While you didn’t say anything to the girl in front of you, you knew who he was.

He was another forbidden kid. Not just a forbidden kid though, your brother. A son of Poseidon.

***

Capture the flag was the next day. From the moment you woke up you could feel the energy surging through the air. This was one of the most anticipated events of the summer. The only thing you really won was a party and bragging rights. I guess to camp full of the competitive people you’d ever meet, that was all you needed.

It was definitely all Clarisse needed. She loved to win and hated to lose, a trait she inherited from her father. And she’d be dammed if she was going lose another game of Capture the Flag.

That’s why you’re so confused when she tells you that she’s changing the plan. She never changes the plan, finding solace in a good strategy.

You understood more when she explained what she was doing. Revenge on the new kid for blasting her with toilet water. When you put it like that, it sounds logical. But knowing Clarisse, and knowing what you know, you can’t just go along with it.

“Clar, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” You both paced around each other in your cabin, similar to last night.

“Are you seriously telling me that what he did was okay?” Her voice raises with every word.

“No! I just- I have a bad feeling! I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“I won’t! I can handle myself, you know this!”

“I know! But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about you!” Your heart beats out of your chest with every step you take towards each other.

“I can’t believe this! You really don’t think I can do this!” Before you can even formulate a response, she’s grabbing her stuff and walking out the door.

You follow her of course, yelling her name, but it’s no use. She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t even pause in her steps. You watch her disappear behind the door of cabin five.

The door to cabin three shuts as you slide down it. Your head hits the wood as you lean back, sure to give you a headache later. You can’t find it in yourself to care though. A tear slips down your cheek. Then another. Then another.

You know it’s a bad idea. She will go after revenge. And she will get hurt. But you also know that there’s literally nothing you can say to her. You want to, but it’ll only make things worse. That's the thing about Clarisse, when she gets her mind set on something, there's no changing her mind. All you can do is patch her up afterwards.

The red team has kept the flag near the water ever since you were claimed. They made sure that you were never far from it, blasting anyone in the face if they got too close for comfort. You weren't going to lie, it was potentially one of your favorite things to do.

So, as per usual, you were patrolling the edge of the water. No one had really gotten close enough, which was very disappointing. Until the new kid ran out of the woods and immediately tripped and fell on his face. Your whole body straightens immediately, muscles tensing. You pull out your sword and move towards him. He probably doesn't want a fight but it's better safe than sorry.

He had a few cuts littering his arms and cheeks. His clothes were dirty and he was now covered in wet pebbles. You could tell that he was disoriented and panicked. You were about to approach him when one of your sort of girlfriend's brothers ran out of the woods after him. Miles. One of her sisters followed suit, Trinity, you think her name was. Dear Hades they're actually going through with it.

Clarisse comes barreling out of the woods after them. Before you can even think about jumping in the sound of metal on metal fills your ears. Swords and shields clash. A spear jabbed at his chest. Her spear. You wanted to get between them, help him, protect him. Even if he didn't know it yet, he was.

But you couldn't. Everything moved so fast you didn't have time to react before they were all rolling over the ground. The water fed off of your emotions, grabbing her siblings and ripping them away from the fight. But it was too late. You saw the spark come from in between them. You heard the wood snap. Half of the spear was in her hands, the other half in his as his body rolled with the momentum.

It felt like time froze for those few seconds. The water was still. The wind stopped blowing, birds stopped chirping. The air around you seemed to disappear. You couldn't breathe. All noises cut out as her guttural scream ripped through the air, lasting for what felt like an eternity.

She ran forward, grabbing the front of his armor and jerking him forward. The conch blew, the blue team ran across the river carrying the flag. She ran off into the woods, it didn't take long for you to follow behind her, grabbing the pieces of the spear as you went.

Before you fully made it away, you saw the trident above his head. That's the moment you realized that you should've placed bets. You would've made bank, but that's not really your concern right now.

You find her in her cabin, facing away from the door, sitting on the edge of her bed. If you look close enough you can see the way her shoulders shake. You place the pieces of her spear on a table near her bed before kneeling behind her. Your arms wrap around her front, pulling her in.

Her back rests against your front, her head tucking back into your neck. You feel the way her shoulders tremble and shake in your gentle hold. For a long time, she doesn't say anything. A few tears slip down your cheeks that you don't mention. You don't push her. It's very rare she lets anything like this happen. She feels like showing these kinds of emotions would make her weak. It didn't matter how many times you assured her otherwise. Sometimes you can't change a person's thoughts when they're the only thing that person has ever known.

After what feels like forever, she speaks. Her voice comes out shaky. It's the kind of soft you only hear late in the night after sneaking into her cabin.

"That spear- it was the only-." A sob escapes her throat and you can feel the way it moves through her whole body, consuming her completely.

"I know honey.." You whisper in her ear. Your arms subconsciously tighten around her muscular frame.

"It was the only proof that he could ever love me." You swear you can feel your heart shatter. You've never liked her dad, but even so, you knew how much that spear meant to her. Her fathers traits were very prominent in her from the moment she was born. Her anger issues kept her in trouble, never getting help. Never being accepted. Her father was the only hope she would ever have until she met you. But even then she was so terrified of losing you...

"It'll be okay.. I promise." Your words a hidden promise of protection.

You're not sure what happens that night but you know something changes. Her arms wrapped around you a little tighter. Her breaths came a little deeper, more relaxed. Your finger over more of her scars, tracing them with the delicacy that was only ever seen in the hands of the greatest artists. When you thought about it though, she was the only work of her art that would ever be worthy of such care.

When you wake the light hits the two of you in a new way. As if Apollo made Helios shine it on the two of you alone so he could write the greatest love hymns that would ever be seen by mankind.

Her siblings don't question your presence. They never do. Why would they when it's so rare the children of Ares are able to find such peace. So rare they can find such a level of acceptance within another person.

For a while you sit there and watch the golden light dance across her bronze skin. The way it shines around her face, the face you've kissed so many times. The face you long to kiss right now. You don't sneak out this morning, instead staying curled into her side. The beating of her heart threatening to lull you back into a peaceful slumber.

Then the conch blows for breakfast, causing her to stir. Her eyes flutter open, turning into pools of golden honey as the light swims in the sweet waters. A small smile creeps onto her lips as her eyes meet yours.

"Hi." You whisper. Your hand strokes over her cheek.

"Hi, baby." Her voice is as soft as the way she looks at you. Before you know it she's leaning forward and placing her lips on yours. It's the first time but it doesn't feel like that. It just feels... right. Something about it is so perfect. The way your lips fit together like long lost pieces of a puzzle.

"What was that for?" Your lips remain parted when you pull away. "I just, wanted to kiss you." She mutters in reply. A blush covers the expanse of her cheeks. You never thought you'd see her so flustered. "Can you do it again? Kiss me again?" She smiles and nods at your words before leaning in and pressing her lips back against yours.

They're soft and warm as they slide against yours. It feels like coming home after a long day of training. Your favorite person right in front of you with open arms.

When she pulls away, she's smiling wider than you've ever seen her. "I really should have done that a lot sooner." You can't help but laugh at her words. "I've only been waiting for four years!"

"Why don't we make up for that?" She leans forward, resting her hand on her waist and pulling your body against hers. A chuckle leaves your throat.

"Maybe later, right now, I really want breakfast." You peck her lips once more before rolling out of bed. "Come on!"

It's not long before you're both dressed and making your way to the dining pavilion. As much as you would like to sit with her, she's already on thin ice with Chiron. You take your time getting your food and burning it, not wanting to be separated until absolutely necessary. Eventually though, you have to part ways and join your newly-claimed brother at the Poseidon table.

"I'm surprised you're not more banged up if I'm being honest." You say as you take your seat. There's not a single scratch on him.

"Annabeth kind of shoved me into the water, next thing I know everything is healed." He answers, you can tell he's nervous knowing your connection with Clarisse.

"Perks of being Poseidon's kid, that and our cabin is a lot less crowded." He laughs lightly at your words.

"You're telling me! It's nice not sleeping on the floor." The both of you go quiet for a while, eating in comfortable silence. The breeze is cool against your skin, a nice reminder of the weather barrier. When you look up, Percy is looking behind you with pure fear in his eyes. You expect to be greeted by a monster when you turn, instead you're greeted by your girlfriend.

You can't help but chuckle at the look on Percy's face. You really can't help but laugh at his face when she leans down and presses a kiss against your cheek. "I'll see in training later, right babe?"

"Wouldn't miss it." You kiss her jaw before she turns and jogs off towards the arena.

"She- you-" He looks utterly dumbfounded as what he just witnessed. "What just happened?"

"She's my girlfriend, Percy."

His mouth drops open with the most surprised look you've ever seen. "Oh."

"Is that an issue?" You don't really care if it is, but you ask anyway. "No, no I just, didn't take her as the type to really date anyone." He answers.

"Most people don't, I'll do my best to keep her from pulverizing you." A laugh escapes you before you take your leave.

Life didn't seem too bad.You had a new brother, you were dating the girl you'd been in love with for years. You might even be able to convince her to leave him alone. You'll get her spear fixed as a surprise birthday gift.

You can feel everyone's surprised eyes on you as you walk out. There's no doubt the entire camp knows by now, and there's no doubt that a billion rumors will be floating around by dinner time. But there's a part of that just, can't find it in you to care. How can you when you have everything you've wanted right there in front of you.

#percy jackon and the olympians #dior goodjohn #percy jackson #percy series #percy jackson disney+ #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #x reader #clarisse is bae #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse x reader #clarrise la rue #hurt/comfort #light angst #angst with a happy ending #percy jackson x reader #cabin 3 #pjo spoilers #poseidon

[thatsdemko]

love affair- a.leclerc & c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Arthur leclerc x gasly!fem!reader & Charles leclerc x gasly!fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of nudity + mentions of oral (f receiving)

a/n: mwahahaha I love creating chaos 😌 also the lyrics are from 5sos! I am well aware none of these men(and the beautiful y/n) are not English! it’s just part of the lyrics! this has zero to do with my previous Arthur x gasly!reader fic! feedback is always appreciated xx

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

It started on a weekend in May

I was looking for attention, needed intervention

his beautiful green eyes are glued to your body as you move across the hot sand of the beach. you begged your brother to pull over so you could take a dip, cool off, you said.

maybe it was your plan to get him to look, you were never going to say. but you felt those eyes in the passenger seat, he watched your breasts bounce up and down as you jog up to the car, the water that’s left on your tan legs glisten in the sun.

“don’t get your wet bottoms on my seats!” Pierre calls out as you dance around the hot pavement, Charles throws his jacket over the leather before you slip in.

“thank you, Charles.” you reach behind the seats pressing a friendly kiss to your brothers best friends cheek, Pierre groans trying to wipe the ends of your wet hair off the leather.

he watches you collapse against the burning black leather seats. little does he know that in exactly six hours he’d be crammed up in the back eating you out. he’d be shoving his hard cock into your swollen pussy, his hand gripping your throat while you choke his name.

Before I knew it, it was serious

Dragged me out the bar to the back seat of her car

TWELVE HOURS EARLIER

you think you’re the only one awake. you still tip toe around the creaking old floors, you’re in nothing but your brothers old alpha tauri shirt and a pair of an ex boyfriends boxers. when you make your way into the living room you half expect to see someone else awake.

“my my, is this a sight to see.” Charles smirks, chuckle escaping his lips. he’s never seen in anything other than a tight shirt and a pair of bottoms that are way too short. even when you were kids your style was far similar to what it is now.

“oh fuck off,” you mumble slipping next to him on the love seat, and he extends the blanket over into your lap. two of you now watching whatever old black and white movie was on.

“can’t sleep?” he asks, voice in a hushed tone watching your body settle into the seats, thigh quickly brushing his before you pulled away. he can’t help but feel the nervousness scatter his stomach.

“not with my brother snoring in the other room.” you roll your eyes, as much as you love Pierre, his nostrils were the death of you every time you take this summer trip.

“why don’t you sleep in my room? Arthur doesn’t snore. we can swap beds.” he suggests, and you almost laugh knowing he doesn’t want to spend his nights in your pink and white wallpapered bedroom. as much as you know he’s in touch with his feminine side, you’re sure he won’t last the night with the pink colors mocking him.

“that or we could just piss Arthur off, have Pierre sleep in your room.” you suggest and he nods. the silence and crackling of the old film are what occupies the air, it’s almost unfamiliar to you both. this room was always full of laughter and joy, you hate hearing it so dead.

“why don’t you just sleep in my bed with me?” he’s half serious, the sleep deprivation was doing most of his talking right now. when he looks you in the eyes he doesn’t expect you to say yes, but you do. now you’re wrapped in his white linen sheets and the cool breeze from his window blows into your face.

you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t wish this was something more. part of you woke up because you knew he was down there shirtless lounging around in nothing but his tiny shorts. you’re not sure if it’s your own sleep deprivation convincing you that you needed him, but will you be thankful in twenty four hours for what god brings you.

NOW

“sleep well?” Arthur watches you nearly stumble down the stairs into the living room. you’re practically limping, it’s obvious you either hurt yourself at the club or whoever left all those hickeys on your neck left you disoriented.

“something like that.” you wave him off heading into the kitchen where the smell of bacon, eggs, and toast are coming from. your mouth is watering you’re so hungry, you almost don’t even catch your brothers glare while you scarf down two plates of food.

“do I even want to know?” he asks, fork gesturing to the purple and yellow bruises that scatter your neck. he can’t even look at you, he’s disgusted by whoever the man was that left his marking. little does he know the man is his best friend who just entered the kitchen mumbling his late good mornings.

“where were you for our run? I knocked on your door five times.” Lorenzo shoves a plate of food into his brothers chest half caring that some of the egg fell on to the floor. he’s disappointed in his younger brothers lack of motivation and discipline.

“I overslept.” Charles lies. that���s partially true, but while Lorenzo was knocking on his door at five in the morning, you were giving him a good morning treat before his run. he claims it to have been the best way to wake up, it’s why he skipped the run.

Pierre nearly chokes on his dry toast when he sees the nail marks against his friends back. they are still fresh and bright red, he’s surprised Arthur didn’t say a single thing when he walked by.

“and somebody was worried about not getting something this trip.”

“oh wow,” Arthur barely touches one of the marks on his back, it earns a hiss from Charles as he tries to swat the younger man to move along, “these are going to leave quite the mark for awhile.”

you try to hide the red hue that’s floating across your face. you’re lucky all of them are too focused on the nail marks and the details of his wild night. you didn’t expect them to be so obvious, but the acrylics were still fresh from the other day and sharper than you expected them to be.

“would you see her again?” Lorenzo asks sliding into the chair next to Pierre. the question brought you a wave of nausea, you get up instantly once he sits down. there’s no way you’ll be able to hear the truth or the lie. either way you know you crossed a line, and seeing Charles in that setting once more wasn’t an option for you.

“yeah, I would.”

—

“you don’t own a single thing that doesn’t compliment you, huh?” he takes your hand in his allowing you to twirl and show off the tight body con dress.

you shrug, sheepish smile spreading across your lips, “you like it?” you’re not sure what’s provoked you to ask, but he just nods tongue licking his bottom lip watching you saunter on over to find a pair of high heels to match.

his eyes trail after your body, it’s like he’s never seen an ass and a pair of tits as good as yours. everything about you demanded his, hell anybody’s, attention. every inch of you screamed perfection, it’s impossible for a man to look away, and right now it’s impossible for him.

“what’s on your mind, leclerc?” you bend down to pick up your black high heels and move to a chair to slide them on. he’s right at the edge of the coffee table doing it for you instead. his fingers pull the little string through the hoops, finger tips grazing your legs.

“you.” he says, watching you slide your leg off his thigh and stand up adjusting the dress down your thighs. his eyes follow your body with lust, you swear you’ve never seen a man wrapped around your finger so quickly.

you’re smiling, he’s so pure, you think to yourself, as you use your index finger to tilt his chin upwards, “I’m thinking of you too, Arthur.” you bend down, head dipping to press your lips against his. they’re sweet and soft just like he imagined them to be, he practically moans at the delicacy.

he runs his hands up and down your body, you don’t mind that they linger a little too long on your ass, you think it’s adorable how excited he is. little does he know he’d have you sucking on his swollen cock in the public restroom of the bar. you’d be on your knees listening to him moan your name and later that evening he’d be asking if he was just as good as the guy from last night.

he’d then take you to that same car, and just like his brother, his hard cock would be entering your throbbing pussy each stroke full of passion and intimacy. you could melt at how careful the leclerc’s take their sexual activities.

you can’t tell him who’s better, there’s no clear winner. but god forbid you would never tell him the man before him was his own brother.

When the lights go out, she's all I ever think about

The picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain

I can't forget, my English love affair

#charles leclerc #pierre gasly #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc smut #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc drabble #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 driver x you #f1 imagine #f1 driver x reader #f1 imagines #f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1

[yuquinzel]

SIX WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU — itoshi sae.

ಣ₊˚. contents — (4.2k) wc, f!reader, pure fluff, reluctant friends to lovers??, mutual pinning, roommates!au

ಣ₊˚. synopsis — itoshi sae has known you for six summers, and he's told you he's loved you in six different ways.

i. ( like the fleeting warmth of sunsets in winter. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ i don't hate you. ❞

the first time you meet itoshi sae, you're fifteen and he's sixteen and you're almost certain no one in his life has ever told him to shut up. you can't stand him, he's rude and all too full of himself, and he rebuffs all your attempts at being friends. you take it as your hint to not be involved with him at all.

which would've worked if you weren't classmates and neighbors. sometimes you end up at his house more often than you'd like —courtesy of your mothers being old college roommates— and you try offering your fair shares of polite greetings of “oh, hello” and good morning or good night texts.

he either leaves you on delivered —seen 6hrs ago if you're lucky— or he prefers to stare at you like you've said the dumbest thing known to man, a curt nod is his way of acknowledging your presence but not bothering to reply back.

it's a sappy cliché. parents beings friends so naturally you and sae must spend a lot of time together except it's anything but that and you're sure he hates you. you're not a big fan of his casual glares either. you come to accept that the two of you are nothing but strangers with threads of chance meetings tangled unfavorably in your lives.

sae sits three desks away from you in the next row and yet he feels a world away from your reach. sometimes your eyes meet in the hallway and you've long since given up on smiling or waving, so that's where it ends.

you eventually become friends with rin, he's a year younger but much more tolerable than his older brother. sure, he's stoic and awkward but at least he doesn't look like he wants to kill you every second. rin walks you home every day, because you're friends. sae tags along, because his mother insists on being nice to you.

six months pass in the blink of an eye, the chilly wisps of winter beginning to gnaw away at your skin. you're sixteen now, and your relationship with sae is as rocky as always. rin's not walking with you today, so it's just you and him. there's not much talking between you and sae. you don't acknowledge his presence, maybe he prefers it that way. you call a friend instead— because as sae has come to notice, you're not a fan of long (awkward) silences— chatting away about adjusting to a new life and a seatmate that's been bothering you who just won't take the hint.

sae scoffs, and you pause.

it's been a long, tiring day and the absolute look of disdain on his face hits the last nerve, “is there a problem?”

“no,” he says flatly.

sae walks ahead without so much as sparing you a glance. he's about ten paces ahead when he turns back, “you coming or what?”

“i'm sorry if me talking is such a bother. but i'm not talking to you. why're you even here? you and i both know you'd rather be anywhere else. i know you hate me and all, but you don't have to act like you're doing me a favor. because you're not.” you spit, it's harsh and biting like the cold gusts of wind caressing your hair. heat begins to settle in your cheeks— in anger or in response to the cold against your skin, sae isn't sure.

silence creeps up in the heavy atmosphere, you think he'll disregard you as always. then, “is he bothering you too much? what, does he stalk you or something?” straightforward as always, you're not sure if sae's mocking you or feigning concern.

“why do you care? because your mom asked you to?” you cross your arms.

sae clicks his tongue, “that's not what i asked.”

he knows you're stubborn. he knows you don't have the kind of relationship with each other where you come to talk about your problems and offer solutions, so he's not surprised when you brush him off, “it's none of your business.”

you walk past him, the distance between you two feeling larger and heavier than ever. “i don't hate you.” but not enough that you don't hear him.

the next day your seatmate is bowing his head in hastened apologies and stumbling over his own words, frantically avoiding your gaze, “i'm sorry, y/n! i swear i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable! i didn't stalk you or anything, i should've taken the hint! please forgive me, I'm sorry!”

you're taken aback by his trembling hands and staggered voice, the sudden modesty of apologizing.

sae doesn't walk with you that day. rin does and you ask him if he said something to your seatmate. “what seatmate?” he'd replied. you remember you didn't tell him anything about anyone bothering you.

you didn't tell anyone besides your friend who lives all the way back in Hokkaido—

— and sae.

ii. ( like the first spark of festival firecrackers. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ call me by my first name.❞

the festival spirit is exuberant per usual. the night-time adorned with food stalls coupled with fumes of spices and sizzling meet, children running through tents, and the blossoms of juvenile love confessions filling the air with the laughter and cheering of people attempting at festival games— it's enchanting, catching you in a trance.

you'd somehow convinced sae to join you, “we'll just go and watch the fireworks show. you'll have fun, i can guarantee that much.”

sae turns seventeen before you, his life falling into a rhythm of soccer practice (as much as he can), classes (mandatory, unfortunately), back home and exercise (lots of it), then watching the clips of the matches of every opposing team (he loses track of time). 

the stone of walking home with you everyday is thrown somewhere in there, with the ripples in its wake stretching comfortably in his life. it's no longer at the instance of his mother. out of habit or choice, you wait for him everyday until his practice is over and sae doesn't mind it too much. he never really did, it might just be something he looks forward to. (you don't need to know that.) he'll say a lot has changed— he's not sure if you can be called a friend but somewhere along the way, awkward silences turned into comfortable breaths of matching paces as you walk, eyes meeting by chance outside of class and sae doesn't mind being the one to wave first, he turns on his notifications just so he can reply to you in time albeit dryly, you've learned to not take it personally.

it did take efforts from both of you— sae being just a little more careful with his words around you, a little more patient. his responses are quick and sharp as ever, but not dismissive anymore. when you talk to him, it doesn't feel like a one-way conversation. he's figured he likes listening to you talk more than initiating any conversation. and you've learned that while sae will rarely be the one to break the silence, he most definitely hates it as much as you do.

one step at a time— matching paces to walk together, waiting for the other one to catch up, that's how you and sae work.

so when he'd initially refused to your suggestion, he's quickly learned that you're a lot more persistent and criminally good at convincing him than he'd like. this is how he now finds himself with you, laid out on a hill in the north of tokyo prefecture, empty boxes of food lying beside and the wistful blues of post-sunset before the two of you.

“see, sometimes its not bad to enjoy the good things in life, itoshi.” you hum, lightly pulling at the grass beneath you.

“i do enjoy the good things in life. soccer is good.”

“yeah, yeah. but taking a break like this is pretty fun, isn't it? don't be shy, admit it already.” you joke, and sae doesn't reply. when you turn to look at him, he's already staring at you.

“what is it?” you ask, reeling back a little. it's a little unnerving, being the centre of sae's attention. it makes you feel small— for reasons you can't name. but it also makes you feel a little special, that's just one of the many things about sae you dont think you'll ever understand.

he draws just a little closer, the air shifting with him, “you still call me itoshi.”

“what?”

sae doesn't inch back, if anything, he's looking at you like he can't tear his eyes away, “nothing. you just don't call rin by our last name."

oh. that.

“uhm, so do you want me to?” you ask, a little hesitantly.

“i don't mind if you call me by my first name, y/n.” there's a certain lilt to the way he says your name, as if he's emphasizing on first name basis. he's always used your first name, and you've always noticed it sounds different wiith him.

he says it like it always rests there at the tip of his tongue, like an unspoken word finally leaving his lips. he says it like it's the answer to everything, like it's so natural that it's you— there's yes and there's no, and then there's your name.

you feel the heaviness of his gaze as if in anticipation, waiting to hear you say it. so after a moment of reticence, “okay, sae, first name basis it is.”

if you didn't know better, you'd say he looks... satisfied. something wavers in his eyes and he looks away, you find yourself missing the way his gaze lingers on yours.

later that night you'd lay in your bed, events of earlier playing in your mind in a loop.

sae.

his name rolls off your tongue as you bring a finger to trace your lips. you repeat it to yourself over and over and over again until it leaves a sweet, luscious aftertaste. it simmers in your voice and sounds like a lullaby. a melody of his name sung like secret whispers, one that calms you and eventually puts you to sleep. you think you like how it sounds, much like how your own does in his voice.

iii. ( like a lovedrunk gaze finding yours at 2 am. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ i don't mind if it's you.❞

you. sae. roommates.

the idea is laughable. downright idiotic. fifteen year old you would've bet a snowball's chance in hell that you and sae could ever be roommates. plenty of reasons for this to be impossible. one, for example— sae and you attend different universities. two— sure, you've gotten closer as friends but sae isn't exactly roommate material. well, he did mention he'd never even shared a room with rin so you can guess he's never had much experience either.

you'd suggested it as a joke, thrown it among the laughs and snarky comments in the games of uno you'd been winning for the past hour, “if i let you win the next match, will you let me move in with you?”

he'd scoffed at you, throwing a draw 4 card with a smirk because you're down to one card, “you lose.”

“you can't end the game with a wild card, smartass."

“sure can. players make the rules, and i just won." he says flatly.

“that is not what we agreed—”

“i win.”

“you're just making that up, sae, take it back this is gonna be my tenth win.”

“but i don't have any other card, what did you say about moving in?”

you pause at that, you didn't think he'd pay attention, “i was joking, you know I'm looking for a place near college.” you say as you pick up the deck of cards, shuffling them again to deal because arguing with sae is like arguing with a wall that sends death glares your way, you don't entertain that idea very much.

sae ponders your words, wonders if you mean it or not. he briefly imagines it, being roommates with you. then the words leave his mouth before he can think about it, “it's not a bad idea.”

you halt in your movements, letting silence take form. he almost regrets saying anything because what if you were just joking? what if you'd wanted him to brush it off as a joke too? did he overstep?— until he sees you gaping at him like an idiot. then he relaxes, and you think you hear him snicker, prompting you to come back to your senses. had you heard him right?

“it's not?”

sae shrugs, a little more confident in his words this time, “it's not. you know my place is near your college. you're tolerable, i don't mind having a roommate if it's you.”

he doesn't mind having a roommate if it's you. he doesn't mind spending a significant amount of his time in the same house, under the same roof with someone even though it goes exactly against the very reason he got a place for himself— if, and only if, that someone is you.

you'd be lying if you said that didn't just boost your ego and swelled your heart a little.

you try to bite back a smile, but fail anyway, “you're serious? when'd you get so generous?”

he doesn't say anything, offers you his signature scoff instead. well, if he knew what to say, he probably would. sae doesn't know why he suggested it. he's sure he would've said no before anyone else could throw the question. but then again— you're giggling and making fun of him and doing a little victory dance in your spot every time you win. it's 2 am, he remembers. and he's sitting in the living room of his apartment playing uno with you when he's not even sure he understood the rules.

he doesn't mind this too much. he thinks he can handle losing every match every night— if it's with you.

“you don't expect me to clean and cook for you right?” you joke, and sae takes a look at his card, and you catch the way his eyes flash with disappointment —he knows he's gonna lose this time for sure— “again, not a bad idea.”

“i mean if you pay me enough, i might—”

“that's not how that works.” he sets down a blue 5.

“that's exactly how it works.”

“i'm not the one looking for a place to live.” he says dryly, but you hear the amusement in his voice.

“hey sae,” your voice is close to a whisper, and sae hums. he waits for you to put down your card, or say something witty like you usually would. when you don't, he looks up at you, a pretty smile on your lips, “thank you, really.” you say before putting down a blue draw 2 card, but suddenly sae can't really focus on the game.

iv. ( like a breath of relief at the sight of home. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ because i wanted to. ❞

“sae, what the fuck?” you groan, rubbing your temples to ease the damn headache you woke up with.

“i thought i told you—” he begins, stirring something in the pan before grabbing a bowl, “—to stay in your room. everything's fine here.” he says, but nothing is fine, actually.

to put it simply— it's a fucking disaster.

you're not surprised, truly you're not. sae in the kitchen is always a disaster waiting to happen in the name of accidents and “i was just trying to warm the leftovers.” the sink is filled piles upon piles of dishes and something is burning in the pan to which sae isn't really paying attention to.

“have breakfast if you're here, you look like shit.” he says casually, as if there's not smoke slowly filling the air.

“i feel like shit too, but what are you trying to do?”

“making breakfast, obviously. well, yours is ready, you can take the scrambled eggs over there.” he beckons to the plate set on the table, and it's the only thing anywhere close to normal and edible.

“but it's my turn, you're on dishwasher duty.”

sae spares you glance— more like he shoots you a look of are you stupid? and did you seriously just say that, then clicks his tongue as he goes back to making whatever it is you don't dare question.

“didn't you have a headache?” he says at last.

“that was last night sae, i mean it still hurts like a bitch but not as bad as before. and anyway you didn't know that, so why?”

“because i wanted to. now pipe down, you talk too much.” he brushes off your words.

and you realise he's not gonna say it out loud. he's not gonna actually verbalise it like “you had a headache last night and i was worried you'd still be feeling like crap so i just thought I'd make you breakfast— even though i might burn down the kitchen in the process”, he'll instead say, “well? I'm not gonna hand feed you.”

and thats okay, you've long since learned to read between the lines and connect the slip-ups of his words. sae isn't one to swallow his own words, he says it like it is, for what it means. but there are times some meanings lie in his actions, not his unspoken words.

so you say nothing more, having heard him loud and clear. you sit down, eyeing your breakfast carefully. then, very calmly, “sae, this has eggshells in it.”

his head whips faster than an owl turning to you, “the fuck? shit—”, he takes the plate from your hands, “wait just a minute, this'll be done in seconds.” he beckons to the fried rice in the pan, the one you're sure was burning minutes ago.

“that's your breakfast sae—”

“’m fine, I'll have cereals.”

“you... hate cereals though?”

“do me a favor and shut up.”

you laugh at that, a sweet and warm laugh, “seriously, what are you doing sae? the kitchen's a disaster and I'm sure whatever you're making is not edible. you don't have to do this, i can have cereal too.”

he pauses at that, turns to you instead. he finds you smiling at him, and his shoulders relax ever so slightly. “you stayed up late last night with all those damn projects, i just thought breakfast would be nice.”

“thank you, that's really sweet of you. but you know what would be really nice? we have cereals, then we watch reruns of friends, and after that we can just laze around the whole day, get nothing done. you and me, it's the weekend.”

sae looks at you— really looks at you. the worry lines blurred on your forehead, the spilled darkening highlighting below your eyes, the tired haze in your voice, the warm but exhausted smile you wear.

he thinks you're beautiful, with your morning hair and still a bit of sleep in your eyes— you're beautiful and he cant find it in him to look away.

“okay,” he breathes— a sigh of relief and warmth and gratitude.

“okay,” you repeat.

v. ( like the union of heavens and the earth. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❝ you don't know what you do to me.❞

sae's not sure how he ended up like this.

the first semester of second year in university has started, the wind carries the smell of wet earth after the first showers of spring, a touch of the scent of lemongrass lingers in the air— and you're stumbling on your feet with your already slurred words and bubbling laughter sputtering through the air.

he's amused really, because you're sober enough to at least remember who he is but tipsy enough to push forward with your insistence on reminding him how pretty he looks.

“saeee, i missed youuuu,” you whine, head falling back against his arm as it goes around to rest on your shoulder.

“you saw me 4 hours ago, and we live together.” he says, watching the way you frown at his words.

“but i still missed you, you should've been with me.” you purse your lips, the way you do when you try to hide your smiles.

“yeah, i think i should've, you're a mess.”

“and you're so pretty,” you slur, bringing your fingers to brush over the smooth skin of his cheeks, “your eyelashes are prettier than mine.”

sae holds you by your arm, a firm and protective grip. he walks patiently, making sure you don't trip on air, “is that so?” he chuckles, betting on the possibility that you'll likely not remember this.

“were you always this pretty, sae or am i too drunk?” you giggle, stumbling forward into his arms.

sae holds you still, “you're drunk, idiot.” they say people are honest when drunk, so surely you mean what you said? god, he's glad you can barely keep your eyes open because he can feel his ears burning.

“but you're pretty, so pretty, i could kiss you right now.”

sae thinks he feels the ground shift beneath his feet— or was it him that tripped a little? heat begins to settle in his cheeks, you've very successfully knocked the air out of his lungs with just a few words, “shut up, I'm taking you home.”

“why, you don't want to?” you tilt your head, cheeks round and wholesome and sweetly puffed.

fuck— a drunk you is very dangerous. sae makes a mental note of never underestimating your flirting skills when you're tipsy.

“you'll hate me for it later, just quiet down.”

“i won't. never, i promise.” the playful way you're grinning at him right now with warm hues favouring the color of your skin, sae frowns at that.

it's unfair, he thinks. you can't just get drunk and then call him pretty with amused eyes and playful grins, you can't just compliment him on his eyelashes and tell him how much you missed him. it's not fair you get to say you want to kiss him even though you might not remember it when he most definitely will think about it forever. he's not even sure if you mean it as a joke because he sure doesn't. and god it's really not fair how you're just standing there, breathing and smiling and holding onto him for support— and still look so goddamn beautiful. you're looking at him with glimmering eyes, waiting for him to take a step forward.

he wants to take a chance. he wants to run his fingers through your hair and guide your arms to loop around his shoulders. he wants to taste the alcohol faint on your lips and breathe your name like you belong to him.

he wants to kiss you. and to have you kiss him back.

he thinks maybe— just maybe, if he takes a step forward, you'll take one too.

so he does, “god, you don't know what you do to me.”

his lips crash with yours first, you'd hoped him to. it's warm and soft, slow and delicate, like only you know sae can be. it's long-awaited, you can feel the desperation building up under the hastened patterns sae's hands begin to trail down your arms, slithering round your waist as he pulls you close and closer. when you bring your hand to cradle the side of his jaw, sae melts into your touch. he feels his own heart ricochet like comets inside his ribcage— reducing all his thoughts to white noise. he pulls back once —to breathe, to accept, to admire— and then draws you back in. when your lips part for a final time and breaths tangle as one, you feel time freeze in that moment.

vi. ( like the first ray of sunshine through the window. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ i love you. ❞

“don't you fucking dare,” sae sneers, his hold on you tightening to keep you in place.

“sae come on, i have to make breakfast. do you want me to starve?” you protest, struggling to wrestle yourself out of his hold.

but sae's strong, and he's stubborn.

“breakfast can wait, i don't wanna get up yet.”

“how is it about you? i'm hungry sae.”

“and I'm tired, we don't even have breakfast this early on weekends. just lie back down, you know you want to.” sae tugs on your arm, and he's right— his arms held out look big and warm and welcoming.

“i really don't know what to do with you,” you let his arm snake around your waist once again, and pull you back under the sheets, “you're impossible.”

“and you can't resist me,” you think he looks pretty this way— the sunlight highlighting his smile as he pulls you closer, determined to not allow even an inch of space between you both.

“no, i can't resist running away from responsibilities.”

“i love you,” the words roll off his tongue before he can stop himself, it's not really intentional— it's just you and the scent of your shampoo and the flutter of your eyelashes against his cheeks, the curve of your lips on his and the warmth of your skin. it's certain and precise and so full of love— to sae, the idea of loving you comes as naturally as breathing. so it's natural the words are pulled from his throat like it's all just a part of him and spilled between morning mellows and fond chuckles.

“i love me too,” you joke, nuzzling closer into his chest.

“say it back—”

you shut him up with a kiss, “and i think i love you too.”

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

i wrote this last night and then cried myself to sleep why isn't he real i want him 🥹

#❀˖° ─ hana writes. #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock x reader fluff #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #sae x you #sae fluff #blue lock x y/n #itoshi sae #bllk x y/n

[futureman]

the way we fight

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, drug use, canon-typical violence, slight spoilers for minor tlou 2 cutscene, jackson era, enemies to lovers, undefined age gap, sloooow buildup, smut, grinding, rough oral (male & female receiving)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: no idea how this got so long, but here we are! generally my fics are based on song lyrics, so this one goes out to my girl ari and social house. this honestly took a while to wrap my brain around and idk how the end got so filthy but alas, i really hope y'all enjoy! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated 💕

It’s always an argument with him. He’s just so stubborn. Actually, Joel Miller might be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. There’s never any room for disagreement or discussion with him—it’s his way or the highway. Half the time, you don’t even know what you’re fighting about, hurling callous, empty words at each other as if they don’t hurt. Immensely.

Maybe you really do genuinely hate each other. Or maybe it’s just for the fun of it.

It’s been like this for as long as you’ve known him, which, in hindsight, hasn’t even been that long. Probably a year? Year and a half? In all that time, you’ve never managed to crack his tough exterior and, as far as you know, no one else has, either.

The only things anyone knows for sure are that he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother and he’s got a daughter named Ellie. He hasn’t made a lot of friends here and it’s not hard to see why. He’s mean in a surly old man kind of way and rarely has anything nice to say to anyone—if he says anything at all.

Yet, somehow you still find yourself spending the majority of your time with him. It’s not something you do by choice. It’s a forced proximity thing.

You can’t tell if Tommy schedules you for patrols together because you’re the only one who hasn’t kicked up a stink about it or if he just thinks it’s funny to watch you both squirm. Most of the town thinks it’s hilarious, so you can only guess it’s the latter.

During your first few outings together, Joel wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary, and, even then, all you’d get was a grunt or some grumbled instructions. The silence got old pretty quickly. It wasn’t until you made your first mistake out in the field that he finally started communicating. Maybe a little louder than you’d hoped.

Now, Joel will pick a fight anywhere, usually over the dumbest shit. But his bark is worse than his bite—most of the time, at least.

On his worst days, his anger is explosive and it seems like he takes it out exclusively on you. It’s honestly a little ridiculous that you haven’t just asked Tommy to take you off his patrols already, but there’s a part of you that’ll never admit you actually kind of like your dynamic.

Not a lot happens in Jackson—it’s well-protected and even the community drama gets a little stale. Joel might be a dick, but he keeps things interesting, keeps you on your toes.

And it’s hard to ignore the fire in his eyes that makes you think he likes it just as much as you do.

It’s fucking freezing out and you haven’t even left for patrol yet before Joel’s muttering something condescending under his breath. Surprise, surprise—he’s in a bad mood and about to make it your problem. You throw him an unimpressed look over your shoulder, the best you can muster this early in the morning, and continue to saddle your horse.

“You wanna say that a little louder, Miller?”

He looks tired and annoyed and, god, you haven’t been awake nearly long enough for this shit. Today’s going to be trying enough as it is. You were assigned one of the longer routes and the clouds are already dark with the promise of rain or worse.

There are a few other patrol groups nearby gearing up to leave and their preparations suddenly slow, eyes darting between the two of you as if they can sense the impending argument. You barely notice their loitering, the small crowd inching forward to not-so-subtly eavesdrop.

“No, really, I’d love to hear to hear what you have to say,” you taunt him, hands settling on your hips. “Y’know, it’s really not like you to keep things to yourself. You sure you’re feeling alright today, old man?”

“Feelin’ just fine, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth, rolling his eyes. “Just hurry your ass up so we can get this over and done with. I’m not tryin’ to spend any more time with ya than I have to.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Sweetheart? That’s a new one. It sounded sarcastic as hell and a little patronizing but, still, that’s not something Joel’s ever called you before. Useless and annoying, sure, but never sweetheart.

Your stomach swoops, but you force yourself to ignore it; that’s not even remotely something you want to analyze today.

“Uh, yeah…whatever,” you eye him strangely, and he abruptly looks away, shifting his focus back to checking his saddlebags. It’s like he’s purposefully avoiding your gaze, and it’s weird. He’s acting so fucking weird today.

Sparing him one last glance, you throw a leg over your horse and start toward the gate at a slow trot. You don’t bother waiting for him to catch up.

“What’s our first checkpoint?” you call over your shoulder, but he’s somehow already right behind you, his horse falling in line with yours.

“You should already know that,” Joel sighs, brow furrowed in what you can only assume is irritation. Oh, here it comes—the inevitable lecture. He does this every single time you're on patrol, whether you’ve done something wrong or not. You must’ve really pissed him off if you’re hearing it this early.

Except—he’s not berating you. Instead, he pulls a map out of his backpack. “Alright, look,” he says, leaning in closer so you can see. “This is us right here, and—,” his index finger traces a route from Jackson, winding along a road that passes through a small neighborhood, and lands on your first stop, located a few side streets off a main road, “—we should end up here in about an hour if the weather holds up.”

Nodding, you look up at him. You hadn't realized how close his face had gotten to yours, and your lips part around an involuntary gasp. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second too long before he pulls away, folding up his map and tucking it back into his pack.

You try to convince yourself that you imagined it, that Joel Miller would never intentionally look at your lips like he wants to kiss you, but you can still feel his warm breath on your skin and it’s affecting you more than you want to admit.

This is…not at all like your normal dynamic and it’s throwing you off. Joel hasn’t raised his voice once today and, at most, he’s only made a few snide remarks that weren’t nearly as bad as they usually are.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you breathe out, creating a tiny puff of condensation in the air. “It doesn’t even feel like it's cold enough to snow, anyway. The worst we’ll probably get is some rain and we’ve ridden in way worse than that.”

All you get in response is a low grunt, and then he’s lifting the reins, leading his horse in the direction of your first checkpoint. You sigh. Guess you’re back to square one. You never thought you’d miss your spats, and can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to make him change his behavior so radically.

“Seriously, though, are you okay? You’re, like, really quiet today,” you prod, and his whole body tenses. He turns to you, expression angry, and it sends a shiver down your spine. There he is.

“Didn’t I already fuckin’ tell you I’m fine? What, you suddenly lose the ability to hear or somethin’?” He shakes his head in annoyance, and you’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore because you can’t suppress the grin that spreads across your face.

“This girl, I swear,” you hear him mutter as he trots away.

You don’t say anything to each other for the rest of the ride to the checkpoint. The crumbling attorney's office is basically the same as you remember from the last time you were here. It’s old, obviously, and musty, but it’s stocked with random provisions, like food and ammo, so patrol crews can replenish their supplies before heading out to their next destination.

There’s also a killer view of Jackson from one of the windows, and you get distracted looking out at the lights and mountains in the distance. It’s starting to flurry, so you drop your backpack on the floor and stick both hands out to catch some of the snowflakes in your palms. So much for rain.

“You dilly dallyin’ again? Just sign the logbook already so we can move the fuck on,” Joel’s voice startles you out of your reverie. Huffing, you turn away from the window, looking for the pen that’s supposed to be next to the notebook, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“You know what, asshole, you could’ve just as easily signed the damn thing yourself. You were there too, or are you getting forgetful in your old age?” you shoot back as you hunch down, getting on your hands and knees to search under the desk. You hear him scoff behind you.

You spot the pen towards the back, because of course it rolled that far, and bend down so you can reach out a little farther. Your fingers brush one end and then you’ve got it, sitting back up with your prize in hand. Looking over your shoulder, you just barely catch Joel’s eyes darting away from where you were a moment ago, basically puppy-posing on the floor. That’s…suspicious.

“The fuck? Were you just staring at my ass?” you ask incredulously. There’s no goddamn way. He snorts, arms crossed with an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You wish, sweetheart,” he says condescendingly, and there it is again. That fucking word. So, he’s calling you pet names and staring at your ass now? There’s something seriously off about him today and you want to know what his deal is.

“You wanna tell me why you keep calling me that? You’ve been acting weird as fuck all day and it’s giving me whiplash,” you glower at him, taking a seat at the edge of the desk and forgetting all about the logbook. He shrugs.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he says simply, and you squint at him.

“Seriously, Joel? You've called me sweetheart twice today and now you’re checking me out,” you hop off the desk and walk over to where he’s leaning against the wall. “If I didn’t know any better…,” you glance down at his lips, moving closer, “I’d say you were flirting with me."

Well, that made him angry. "Fuck you,” he growls in your face, and his lips are soft where they accidentally graze your cupid's bow. He’s trembling now, fists clenched at his sides, and you think he’s about to push you away when he grabs you by the hips and shoves you against the wall. Your head lolls back and you laugh cruelly.

“Yeah, Joel,” you roll your hips into his and he grits his teeth, tightening his grip. “I think that’s exactly what you wanna do.”

But before you can go any further, there’s a crash just outside the door accompanied by a familiar sound that turns your blood to ice.

It’s unmistakable. The clicking, guttural and stuttered, is followed by a high-pitched shriek that echoes throughout the small space, and you both freeze. You look up at Joel, terrified, and he raises a finger to his lips, eyes telling you to be quiet or else.

There’s no way either of you can unholster your guns—and reload, in your case—without alerting it to your position. Joel reaches for the hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and you move to do the same, only to realize it isn't there.

Fuck, it has to be somewhere. Probably in one of the dozen random holsters you have attached to you right now.

Frantic, you pat at your sides and legs—anywhere it could be—as your panicked intakes of breath gradually increase in volume. A hand slaps over your mouth, and suddenly Joel is crushing your body against the wall, halting your movements.

"Quit," he whispers harshly, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you nod quickly.

The creature abruptly changes course, jerking toward the open window, and that’s when you notice something familiar by its feet. It's—fuck, it's your backpack. And your knife is gleaming from where it sits, nestled in one of the side pockets.

Stupid, that was so stupid. If, by some miracle, this thing doesn't kill you, there’s no doubt Joel will once he realizes your mistake. His hand drops from your mouth and he glances back over his shoulder at the clicker, gripping his knife a little tighter.

He looks resolute, and it dawns on you that he’s about to make a move. It takes everything you’ve got not to grab onto his coat and pull him back to you as he slowly shifts away, but then something else stops him in his tracks.

Another screech rings out from the other side of the room, and now you know you’re fucked. There’s only one option left now. Either you run, or you get torn apart. He reaches down to take your hand in his, warring emotions of anger and fear in his eyes as he looks into yours, and squeezes; it’s now or never.

The path to the doorway you came through is somehow miraculously clear, and Joel takes off at a sprint, dragging you with him but, to his horror, you decide to do yet another stupid thing.

For reasons you can’t explain, you find yourself ripping your hand out of his, swerving to snatch your backpack from where it lies just a few feet from the clicker.

Joel is yelling, or at least you think he is, and you vaguely feel his blunt nails scratch the back of your hand as he reaches out to stop you, but he can’t. You’re moving on autopilot, can barely register your body moving at all, until your fingertips skim the strap of your pack and the clicker is shrieking in your face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to one before, even dead, and it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. The world freezes for a moment and you freeze with it, unable to move or look away from the fungus erupting from its skull, teeth gnashing inches away from your throat.

And then you feel warmth—warm, strong arms wrap around your waist and tug harder and harder until you’re back out in the cold. Joel spots his horse a short distance away, likely spooked by the commotion, but you can’t see much farther than that. What was a gentle flurry less than a half hour ago has become a violent blizzard, and you’re both getting pelted by ice that burns as it scrapes across your skin.

There’s one horse—just Joel’s horse—but there’s no time to think about the fate of your own before his hands are on your hips, lifting you up and into the saddle, and he’s climbing on in front of you.

He urges his horse forward and you’re off without so much as a glance behind you, galloping away from danger and down a street that you realize you actually recognize.

“Joel,” you squeeze his waist and he ignores you. He’s shaking and it’s definitely not just from the cold. You can feel the anger radiating off of him in waves and it’s warranted. You fucked up big time. “Joel, turn right,” you say a little louder, and he’s still not listening. “Turn right! There’s a library up ahead, you have to turn now!”

He growls, and you think he’s purposely going to miss the turn until he’s yanking the reins to the right, nearly throwing you both off the horse.

“You better know what the fuck you’re doin’,” he all but shouts back, and you wrap your arms around his waist a little tighter.

“It’s safe!” you yell, struggling to speak loud enough for him to hear you over the wind. “Ellie’s been there before, loads of times, and she says it’s safe. “

And that’s all it takes to convince him.

The library’s completely boarded up and, with the wind howling against your backs, it takes more than a few hard tugs to yank enough of them off to get inside the lobby with Joel’s horse.

He hands you the reins before moving into the next room, crouching along the rows of aging books and knocked-over bookcases, and you peek in, watching him anxiously. Cracked bricks litter the ground, and he steps over a few as he crouches into place behind a broken book cart.

He picks one up and then shoots you a look, eyebrows lifting pointedly, and you realize he wants you to get back into the lobby, out of sight. You duck behind the wall, placing a soothing hand on his horse right as you hear the sound of the brick shattering against the ground, and wait. A few agonizing seconds pass before you hear him throw one more a little farther out, just to be sure.

When nothing startles or jumps out, Joel whistles and you know that’s your cue to come out from your hiding spot. Normally, that would piss you off immensely, him whistling for you like you’re a fucking animal, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

You’re exhausted now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, and the only thing you want to do is curl up into one of the torn-up chairs in the corner and pass out until morning. But that’s not what Joel has in mind.

“Y’think you’re off the hook for the shit you pulled earlier?”

You sigh, head tipping back and thumping against the bookcase behind you. “Do we have to do this right now? Joel, I’m tired and hungry, and fucking cold, and I really don’t have the energy.”

“Seriously? Sure looked like ya had the energy when you were runnin’ straight into that clicker’s mouth,” he scowls, reaching down to grab something next to the book cart and throwing it at your feet. “Thought ya might want this back since you apparently decided it was worth more than your life.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, eyebrows pinching together. Joel…he—

It's your backpack.

You were so sure it got left behind when he saved you from that clicker and yet, there it is. You lean over to pick it up, but Joel kicks it out of reach before you get the chance. He looks livid and now, you realize, you’re about to get that lecture you dodged earlier tenfold.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Me? I'm not the one having an identity crisis! You’ve been nothing but distracting all damn day,” you scoff bitterly. “None of this would've happened if you hadn't had a complete personality makeover overnight.”

You can’t believe he…is he serious? There’s no way you’re taking the fall for this, not all of it. Yeah, you fucked up with the backpack, but Joel isn't entirely blameless, either. If you hadn’t been fighting again, you would’ve just signed the stupid logbook and moved on like you were supposed to.

"Yeah, alright, sweetheart. It's my fault you almost got us both killed. Maybe you’re forgettin’ I saved your goddamn life back there, somethin' I wouldn't have had to do if you hadn't gone and done something so fuckin’ stupid."

Sweetheart.

"Stop calling me that! I…fuck, Joel, I just don't get you. I get it—I know I fucked up, but…,” your voice cracks and you can feel your lower lip wobbling, but you can’t let yourself cry. That would only prove to Joel what he already knows—you’re weak. “I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “You really wanna know what I want from ya?” He crowds your space, leaning in slightly. His head tilts like he's going to kiss you, and your breath hitches. “I want ya to get your shit together and stop makin’ unnecessary mistakes,” he says cruelly instead.

Your jaw drops.

"No, you know what? Fuck this,” you seethe. “When we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to never put me on your patrols again. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Think I give a shit about that? Go ahead, you’d be doin’ me a favor!” he yells at your back as you storm away, and you flip him off over your shoulder. Behind you, he sighs heavily, sounding as worn out and frustrated as you feel.

What a load of bullshit. You don't deserve to be treated like this. There's a stark difference between the inconsequential arguments you normally have and whatever the hell that was.

And the worst part? It hurts so much more than you expected it to. Leave it to you to get attached to the asshole whose personal mission it is to make you miserable. This whole thing was fun while it lasted, but you meant what you said. You and Joel, it’s over.

You exhale wetly, tears still threatening to fall as you leave him behind in what the yellowing signs tell you is the romance section. Well, isn’t that ironic.

You quickly realize navigating the library in the dark is more difficult than you anticipated, even with your flashlight. Not even ten steps away from where you started, you trip over something protruding from the ground and almost land flat on your face.

Joel comes running over as you let out a frustrated noise and push yourself up onto your knees. His knife is at the ready like he was expecting danger but, no, it’s just you humiliating yourself even further. He lets out a relieved sigh, holstering his knife, but then just stands there glaring down at you.

“I’m fine, by the way,” you wave a hand from the ground. He shakes his head, reaching down to help you up, and his hand feels so nice in yours—big, strong, and calloused.

You curse yourself for still thinking about him like that, like anything at all, but you can't help it. And when his hand drops yours, it feels distinctly cold and empty.

Shaking it off, you aim your flashlight at the offending spot on the floor. “What is that, anyway?” you ask Joel as he crouches down to brush away some of the dirt and debris.

“A handle,” he mumbles, pulling out his knife again and digging it into a crack in the floor, tracing around what looks like…a door?

“Is that a trapdoor?” You lean over his shoulder to get a better look. He looks back at you and nods, looking a little less angry and a lot more concerned. “Well, should we check it out?”

Instead of answering you, he wrenches the door open and shines his flashlight into the opening. There’s a ladder leading down and you can hear something rumbling below that sounds like a generator.

“Stay here,” he eyes you sternly as he begins his descent down the ladder.

“Uh, yeah, that’s not happening,” you scoff, following him. The ladder’s longer than you expected, and once your feet touch the ground, you reach out to run your hands along the wall, searching for a light switch.

A few moments later, your fingers come across something vaguely switch-like and you flip it, a warm glow filling the room, emanating from about a dozen heat lamps hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes adjust and—

“No fucking way.”

Joel is silent beside you, and you glance over, his expression just as stunned as yours is. You step closer. “Is that…?”

“Weed,” he breathes out.

You didn’t mean to get this high. Really, you didn’t. But you're in a fucking grow room hidden beneath a library in some tiny, backwater town, and you almost just died. So really, what reason was there not to?

The blizzard’s still going strong outside and, at the very least, it’s nice and warm down here. There's also the added bonus of something fun to do while you wait it out.

…Yeahhh, so you might’ve found a mason jar full of already rolled joints between some couch cushions, literally just sitting there for the taking. What were you supposed to do? Not smoke them?

But what surprises you even more than the pot itself is that Joel is smoking it, too.

It’s cute how he coughs after every drag, eyes watering as you pass a joint back and forth. The air is thick with smoke and a strange tension that neither of you can really describe, but you’re not fighting anymore. Not yet, at least.

The couch you're sitting on is cozy and less tattered than the chairs upstairs, so you settle there for the night, sitting closer than you ever willingly have before. Enough time has passed that you’re beginning to realize neither of you plans on moving, either. That you’re actually enjoying each other’s company.

The warmth of him seeps pleasantly through your clothes, and he feels so solid and real against you. Unconsciously, you melt into his side, your fuzzy brain chemicals urging you to feel more, more of him, and he tenses only for a moment before lifting an arm to rest behind you on the back of the couch.

It's strange how readily he's accepting your touch now. With each drag, you feel a little braver and press more of your body into his, draping your legs across his lap and nesting your head in the crook of his neck. He goes boneless when you mouth damply at the skin just below his jaw, his throat rumbling under your lips as he lets out a ragged breath.

You’ve both loosened up so much since earlier. It’s an easy, comfortable sort of peace you’ve found down here, even after the horrors you experienced earlier in the day. Part of you wishes it could always be like this with Joel but, then again, that just wouldn’t be you and Joel.

Your relationship thrives on the way you fight, almost like you can’t exist together without the promise of battle. So, when the high wears off and the world feels less lazy and more dire, you’ll both remember with sharp clarity that you hate each other. The memories will fade away and the war will continue. That’s just how it is.

It’s a little sad when you think about it, but for at least a little while longer, you’ll still have this version of you and Joel. You’ll enjoy the way he feels pressed up against your body; the way he feels pliant and suggestible under your lips.

And you’ll ask the question that’s been eating away at you all day because right now, you’re positive your lips can convince him to do anything.

“Tell me why you keep calling me sweetheart,” you murmur against his skin. He freezes, clearly not expecting you to bring it up again. You lift the blunt to his lips and encourage him to inhale to calm his nerves. The smoke plumes from his nose like a dragon as he exhales, and you're enraptured by the way it swirls through the air before dissipating. He braces a hand on your thigh before responding.

"Well, I…uh—," he mumbles, his cheeks turning a deep shade of burgundy, and you can’t resist reaching out to stroke the heated skin with your fingertips. He breathes shakily as he continues, "I—had a dream about ya last night, and…you, uh—you were…"

He cuts himself off, and your mind goes fuzzy for a moment as you let that little bit of information sink in. So, Joel was dreaming about you last night…and now, he’s treating you so much differently. Calling you pet names, eyeing you up, touching you. It all makes sense—but now you need him to tell you everything.

"What was I doing in your dream, Joel?"

He meets your gaze, looking flustered and a little ashamed, and it's a far cry from the man who was yelling at you not even an hour or two ago.

"You, uh," he clears his throat, still hesitating. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, sucking it wetly into your mouth, and his eyes darken. He lifts a thumb to your mouth, tugging your lip down just slightly, and you can see the moment his apprehension disappears. "You were on your knees for me," he murmurs. "Doin' such a good job, too, workin' that pretty mouth of yours."

You inhale sharply and his thumb drops, but his eyes never leave your lips. Gingerly, you pluck the joint still burning between his fingers and take one last deep drag before flicking the rest to the side and crashing your lips onto his.

God, they feel exactly like you thought they would, soft and a little chapped from the cold, but so fucking eager against yours. You hold his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along the roughness of his beard, and he groans as you exhale into his mouth, tasting the smoke on your tongue.

Sighing, you lean back slowly, heavy-lidded eyes roving over his face to take in his kiss-swollen lips and that beautiful burgundy flush. He's so pretty, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his thick, graying hair as he pants heavily below you.

You need to feel more of him, all of him, so you climb into his lap, straddling his hips and grinding down against where he's already straining in his pants. He grips you tighter in response, working you steadily across his hardening cock.

"Keep going,” you moan breathily. You're already so wet, and heat blooms in your belly every time your clit grazes the seam of his jeans. It's a foggy, hazy pleasure, what you feel when he speaks, and you're addicted to it. “Keep telling me about your dream—a-about my mouth…I wanna hear more.“

You feel rather than hear him growl low in his throat as he ducks his head down to your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin.

“Your mouth…so fuckin’ wet—s-soft and tight around my cock,” he sucks hard under your jaw, and you gasp. “Takin’ me all the way down, like I always knew you could.”

Your breath hitches, eyes rolling back. The thought of him dreaming about his cock down your throat makes your cunt pulse, and now you're positive you're soaking through his pants.

You bet he thinks about it when you're on patrol together, too—that when you're fighting like you've both got something to prove, he's thinking about shutting you up with his cock. Fucking your mouth to show you that what he says goes.

"M-more, Joel…ngh, fuck, I need more," you reach down to shove his shirt up so you can feel him, his stomach flexing and unflexing under your palms. He starts to buck into your clothed pussy faster, like he's fucking you through the fabric, and you whine pathetically as he tugs hard on your hair, yanking your head to the side.

"S’alright, n-needy girl, 'm gonna tell you exactly how I was fuckin' that sweet mouth of yours last night…h-how you were—," he groans raggedly in your ear, voice cracking, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat racing between your legs. "…c-chokin' and gaggin' around my cock while I was cummin' down your throat…"

He keeps giving you what you asked for, tells you all the filthy shit he wants to do to your mouth, and his hips start to stutter like he's bringing himself closer to orgasm with his own words. It would make a lot of sense—Joel's always loved the sound of his own voice, especially when it's directed at you.

But you can’t hear much of anything anymore aside from the sound of your own stuttered moaning, suddenly so, so close to hurtling over the edge with him. You’re sliding so easily over his cock now and you brace your hands on his shoulders as your thighs start to quake around his waist. He digs his fingers into the plush curve of your ass, pulling you down harder, but you squeeze his shoulders roughly to get his attention.

“Y-you—Joel, you can’t cum,” you whine into his neck, and he all but snarls in response. “No…no, no, no. Want you t-to fuck my mouth—you have to cum in my mouth—”

He abruptly yanks you off his lap, shoving you back onto the couch and wrenching your jeans and underwear down in two hard tugs.

You barely have time to let out a squeal before he buries his face in your cunt, honing in on your clit and sucking wetly. He flattens his tongue, circling once, twice, three times, and then you’re cumming with a loud exhale, gushing as you grind into his face.

Your pussy’s still pulsing, locking down around nothing, as you tug him off of you by his hair.

“Joel—jeans..o-off…now.” You help him push them down just enough to free his cock, and then your mouth is on him, sucking him down to the hilt.

His hips buck off the couch of their own accord and he groans pathetically as you gag around him. He’s petting your head and saying something raggedly above you, likely apologizing for hurting you, but it’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

Instead of pulling off to reassure him that you very much want him to keep gagging you, you guide his hands to bury themselves in your hair and squeeze his thigh, praying he gets the hint. His fingers tense against your scalp as he holds you in place and, yeah, he absolutely gets it.

Your head feels like it’s disconnecting from the rest of your body as he starts fucking into your mouth the way he was probably dreaming about last night. He’s just so fucking big, and you feel a weird sort of pride bloom in your chest at being able to take him like this.

Tears are streaming down your face from the effort and you’re drooling all over his lap but, fuck, if he wants to do this every time you patrol together, you’ll let him. You take back everything you said before—if Tommy ever takes you off Joel’s patrols, you’ll kill him.

His fingers start to tug harder, painfully at your hair and you can hear him moaning something above you, his words slurred and desperate.

“S-so fuckin’ good, sweetheart, you’re…ngh—fuckin’ perfect,” he grits through his teeth, breath hitching as you wrap your lips tighter around him, flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. “‘m gonna cum…fuck, fuck—need you t-to swallow it all, sweetheart… know you can do it…so goddamn good.”

Humming and swallowing around him, you reach up to cup his balls and he erupts, pumping thick cum into your mouth and down your throat. Deep groans are punched out of his chest with every spurt and you can feel his cock pulsing against your tongue.

There’s so much of it. You try your best to do what he asked, to be good and swallow everything, but it’s starting to leak out the corners of your mouth and down his cock. Slurping up as much as you can, you pull off with an audible pop and lick off the rest of the salty, white streaks remaining on his skin.

When your watery eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at you like maybe he really has been dreaming this whole time. He’s still a little dazed, from both the weed and the intense orgasm, and he reaches out to cradle your face in his hands almost as if to prove to himself that you’re real. It’s a surprisingly tender gesture that kind of makes your heart ache.

Your lips quirk up as you lean into his touch, aching to prolong the moment, and he leans forward to press a sweet kiss to them, mouth coaxing yours open to taste himself on your tongue. You whine softly as his tongue runs along your bottom lip, and then he pulls back, hauling you into his arms to lie back on the couch.

Those heat lamps feel unbearable now. You're both hot and sweating, chests heaving from exertion, but you still refuse to separate from each other. Your brain’s feeling a lot less foggy, so you’re probably coming down from your high, which means Joel is, too. The realization sends a pang of worry through your chest like you expect him to suddenly come to and push you away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls your back to his chest, positioning your bodies more comfortably before murmuring fondly in your ear, "You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Maybe you’ll get to keep this after all—and without sacrificing everything that makes you and Joel, well…you and Joel. You twist around to shoot him an unimpressed look, but the burgeoning grin on your face betrays you.

“What, you’re just figuring that out? Took you long enough.”

He scoffs. “Listen, sweetheart—“ But you gasp, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. No, way. How are you just putting two and two together now?

“Wait…oh my god, wait—is this why you keep calling me sweetheart? Because it's what you called me when I was blowing you in your sex dream?” You’re grinning so hard it hurts. How the fuck didn't you notice that earlier?

There was plenty of time to work it out when you were all but fucking on the couch for the past hour. But then…he didn’t actually start calling you sweetheart until he was cumming, and the realization makes your cunt throb. You file that information away for now, but make a mental note to come back to it later—hopefully back in Jackson with Joel.

…who’s still mumbling irritatedly into your shoulder. You tilt your head back to press your lips under his jaw, and you're quickly learning that kissing that particular spot turns him to jelly.

“You can keep calling me sweetheart,” you start, thinking over your next words carefully. “But I’ve got conditions.”

“Oh, she’s got demands now,” you can hear the dramatic eye roll in his voice. You suck a bruise into his skin to stop the back sass and it works spectacularly.

“Oh, shut up. It benefits you too, asshole,” you glare up at him before continuing. “I want your dick in my mouth every time we patrol from now on. And next time, you have to fuck me.”

His fingers dig into your sides, and you’re pretty sure you just felt his cock twitch against your ass.

“…Y-yeah, I, uh. I can do that,” he stutters, suddenly demure, and it dawns on you how much you like seeing all these different sides of Joel. He’s been mean and angry, shy and tender, and so fucking sexy all in the span of a single day. It's not something you ever would've expected from him.

You used to think he was just some grumpy old man and that his one personality trait was being an obnoxious jerk, but tonight you were proven very, very wrong.

You pull his arms tighter around you, let yourself get lost in the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back, and hum contently. You’ll have to thank Ellie and her weed-grower friend later.

“Y’know, I almost thought you were gonna say no more fighting,” he says after a few seconds of silence. You look up at him incredulously, and he chuckles.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

[ponderingmoonlight]

Megumi's little sister falling head over heels for Yuji (and maybe Sukuna?)

Pairing: Megumi's sister x Yuji; Megumi's sister x Sukuna; Megumi's siter x Mugumi sibling dynamic (Megumi being a cool big bro)

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: After being set on a mission with your crush Yuji, your big brother and Nobara, things don't go as planned as all and force Yuji to sacrifice himself before you have the chance to tell him how you feel. Until Sukuna appears...

Warnings: drama over drama, hurt over hurt, but also a lot of fluff

Notes: I hate to brag about my own work, but this is honestly one of my favorite fics out of my own feather so PLEASE interact in some kind of way with it - will be forever grateful <3

Tags: @sunshine7queen @selen1um-hexafluoride @sanicsmut (tagging you bc I bet you'll like that)

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, just one look at the boy next to your brother is enough to make your heart skip a beat. Yuji Itadori is a walking green flag, the best boyfriend material you stumbled upon in your life. Just seeing his bright smile is enough for you to feel like flying, his inviting brown eyes sweeping you off your feet on a regular basis.

“Oh look, there’s (y/n)”, Yuji speaks out in excitement.

Despite the fact that you are Megumi’s younger sister, you are the complete opposite to him. Kind, open-minded and oh so sweet. When Yuji joined jujutsu high, you were the first who greeted him with open arms, showed him around, trained with him, gave him every little advice you’ve had. It truly is unavoidable to fall head over heels for you in that white uniform with that smile as bright as the sun.

“Hey Yuji, hey grumpy-cat”, you greet both boys, earning a huff from your big brother.

“What are you doing here, (y/n)? Aren’t you supposed to be on a mission right now?”, Megumi questions.

“Oh, Toge and Panda took over for me as the curse seems to be a grade 1. Also, Gojo-sensei needs me here for the training sessions”, you clarify.

Right, the training sessions. It doesn’t sit right with Megumi that you are partly responsible for them. You are a skilled jujutsu sorcerer, especially your tajutsu abilities are truly outstanding and it’s no surprise that you are the best combat fighter along with Maki. That’s why you grew especially close with Yuji…

Megumi hates the way his friend looks at you with hearts glistening in his eyes and heart hammering so loud that even he is able to hear it. It is no secret to anyone anymore that Yuji Itadori is hopelessly in love with you. How could he not? You are breathtaking beautiful and the kindest person walking on this earth with an angelic voice that could end wars. Only fools wouldn’t fall for you.

But the thing is that you seem to like him too. You, his little precious sister, the one thing he loves more than anything else in this world. The thought of you and Yuji being together alone makes his guts turn.

“Aren’t you too weak for that? You’re still a first year”, Megumi comments dryly.

“Huh? (y/n) is just as strong as you and me, maybe even better. I’m sure she will be great!”, Yuji instinctively replies.

You can’t help but admire him, that beautiful boy with the purest soul. Not even the fact that he inherits parts of the most dangerous curse on this whole planet can keep you from stumbling, crashing and falling for him.

“Yuji, I was wondering if you…If you’d like to meet up with me after today’s training”, you begin, nervously fumbling with your hair.

“No. Way. In. Hell”, Megumi hisses through gritted teeth.

Before Yuji is able to comprehend what is happening or even to answer your precious question, Megumi drags him along with him, away from your striking sight, back at Jujutsu High.

“See you, (y/n)!”, he shouts over his shoulder while waving you goodbye.

“Yeah…”, you mutter, hand dropping in disappointment.

When will you ever be able to get to know him better without your big brother interrupting every sweet moment you have?

“That girl…”

Sukuna leans forward, hand stroking his chin thoughtfully.

You are a pain in the ass, always on this brat’s mind. But you are very easy on his eyes, truly a beauty with decent abilities.

He laughs to himself, eyeing you up and down as your figure disappears.

“This will be fun…”

-the next day-

 It sounded so simple and enticing at first. Don’t fight, exclusively rescue survivors, if you encounter a special grade: run. Pairing up with Megumi, Nobara and Yuji. A difficult but manageable task.

Until you got caught in a sphere.

Until Nobara disappeared.

Until Megumi’s divine dog got killed and a special grade curse appeared in front of your very own eyes.

“We can’t leave without her!”, you yell, eyes roaming around in a desperate attempt to find Nobara.

“Not now, (y/n). We’ll find her later, right now we have to-“

This presence. The sheer presence of this creature takes your breath away without even seeing it. There is no doubt that this is…

A special grade.

None of you move, just staring blankly at this thing with its wide open eyes and alien-like appearance next to you. No. You can’t just stand there, move, try to attack it, try to fight.

Suddenly Yuji lunges himself at it, trying to slice into that frightful creature. In the blink of an eye, his hand falls to the ground along with the cursed weapon Maki lent him.

“I-ita…Itadori?”, Megumi stutters next to you.

Time stands still. You can only stand there and watch in horror as he turns around, blood squirting out of his arm.

“Yuji!”, you scream on top of your lungs.

No. No. No.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t reality, right? Maybe it’s Sukuna who tries to play tricks on you. You aren’t even able to hear what Megumi and Yuji talk about, ears ringing so violently that you feel like fainting, sweat dripping from every pore.

Is this how you’ll die? In your first year, together with the boy you never admitted your feelings to and your brother? This can’t be how it ends, you still had so much planned…

“Hey Sukuna, if I die here you die too, right? So you have to help me out.”

“Not true. Even if the part of me that’s inside you dies, there are 18 other fragments of my soul still out there. Still irritatingly enough, I don’t have control of this body. If you want to switch, go ahead and switch. But once you do, I’ll kill that brat before the cursed spirit can! Then I’ll go for that woman. She’s a lively one, I’ll have fun with her. Last but not least, there’s your little friend over there, or should I say girlfriend? What a pleasure it will be to see the light in her fade while she’s staring at the eyes of the boy she loves!”

The thought of him killing his friends with his own hands is frightening enough but killing you…Yuji stares at you in disbelief, the way your glossy eyes are widen in nothing but fear.

“I’m not going to let you do that”, he hisses automatically.

“I bet. But if you’re too focused on me, your friends are gonna die.”

“(y/n), watch out!”

Megumi grabs your collar just in time and pulls you to the side before you get hit full force by the curse. You hold onto his uniform for dear life, feeling like you’ll throw up any minute. This is all too much, way more than you can handle. You don’t want to die yet, especially not here, especially without telling Yuji how you feel. Megumi…You can’t both die here.

“Fushiguro!”

You’re still so young, so full of life…

“Fushiguro!”

Out of instinct, your eyes dart towards Yuji. Control your breathing, gain regulator over your ringing ears.

“Take (y/n) and Kugisaki and get out of here. I’ll keep this one busy until you three are out. As soon as you’re out, give me some kind of signal. Once you do…I’ll switch with Sukuna.”

“You know you can’t do that! Not with one arm against a special grade!”, Megumi yells at him while holding onto you tightly.

“Yuji…”, you breathe out, tears now running down your cheeks like waterfalls.

Please, this can’t be happening right now. What Yuji suggests…

Is his certain death.

“Look closer, it’s having fun. It’s obviously toying with us. I can at least buy us some time.”

“No!”, you cry out while tearing you away from your brother’s tight grip to grasp Yuji’s sleeve.

“I can’t just leave you here like that!”

“Please, (y/n), you need to-“

“I love you!”, you blurt out.

“I love you!, Please don’t leave me like that, I love you…”

“I love you too, (y/n), but you have to go now. Fushiguro.”

Your brother’s eyes dart towards you. Despite he has to fight back tears himself, despite the fact that he hates seeing you like that he knows exactly that Yuji is right.

With a swift motion, he frees your hand from Yuji’s sleeve and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you away from this special curse.

Away from Yuji.

“Come on, (y/n). We’re getting through this”, he interject between your toe-curling screams.

All you can feel is numbing grief. You can’t even hear your own cries anymore, vision getting blurry over Megumi’s shoulder. None of this should have happened. This was supposed to be a rescue mission, all of you should have been running the second that curse appeared. But now Yuji is in there alone with a missing hand, risking his own life to save yours.

“Divine dogs, find Kugusaki”, Megumi’s voice shouts from far away, the tiles underneath you moving in rapid motion.

Until slowly but surely, everything around you seems to get dark.

“(y/n), you need to stay with me. (y/n)!”

-later-

Rain wets your face and takes your sight as you open your eyes. Where are you? What happened? You lift yourself up from your sitting position, eyes darting towards Nobara and Ijichi-san who is about to stitch her head up.

Where is Megumi? And what about Yuji? A lump forms in your throat when memories of your last encounter begin to flood your mind. If he’s dead…

You clench your hands into fist, watery eyes darting in front of you. No, don’t think like that. There has to be a reason for Megumi being missing. He must be on his way to look after Yuji. And you’ll definitely to the same.

Your rapid steps make the water to your feet spray in every direction, sharp and heavy breaths hanging in the air. You just have to concentrate on Yuji’s signature cursed energy. After spending so much time together, it’s no problem to detect him anymore. And then you’ll hug him like there’s no tomorrow. Yes, he probably switched with Sukuna and returned as soon as the cursed spirit was gone.

Something makes you stop in your tracks. Foreshadowing, fear, hope? You can’t tell. But the atmosphere around you changed completely. Is he…?

“Yuji?”, you murmur into the heavy rain of the evening.

“Sorry, he’s not coming back.”

You can’t catch your breath, eyes wide open as the body of Yuji pins you against a nearby tree. These tattoos, that smirk.

This is Sukuna.

You fight against his claws as hard as you can only for him to chuckle over your efforts. No, his hand doesn’t move an inch away from your arm, holding you in place effortlessly.

“No need to be frightened, (y/n). Let’s talk a little, shall we?”

“Bring him back”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Who knows why, but he can’t come back. So I’ll keep you entertained”, he replies.

Sukuna wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly. Oh, you really are lovely with your wet hair and skin, let alone the way you glare up at him while heavy breathing. Somehow he gets it, how this brat fell head over heels for you.

“I don’t wanna be entertained!”, you yell into his face.

With full force you rip yourself out of his firm grip and attack him. Fists fly through the air, sending him into a nearby tree.

“I’m surprised, when you beat that brat over and over I thought it was because he is weak when in fact, you are pretty strong!”, Sukuna shouts while running towards you with neck breaking speed.

You were never confronted with Sukuna. Since you know Yuji, he was always able to suppress his presence. But right now… Your blood freezes in your veins, the way his usual to tender brown eyes are lit by raging red makes shivers run down your spine.  

“Come on (y/n), give me all you’ve got!”

You fight as hard as you can, hitting him with full force over and over. Until it seems like he has enough.

He pushes you into the dirt violently, rain pouring down as all you can do is stare up into his amused face while he sits on top of you.

“Not bad, girl. Not bad”, he hums amused.

His hand sure feels good wrapped around your neck. Yes, slowly but surely Sukuna definitely understands what that brat sees in you. A ray of sunshine while being feisty, looking feminine while being so strong. Impressive, truly impressive. And how the rain pours down at your stunning face.

“Bring. Him. Back.”, you spit at him, very own eyes glistening in thick hatred.

“Come on, don’t look at me like that. After all I am technically him. Just a much better version.”

“You will never be him”, you bite back.

His weight on top of you along with his hand wrapped around your neck makes it hard to catch your breath, let alone think straight. Yuji’s uniform is now completely soaking wet, revealing his tight muscles underneath. Of course you always knew how well trained he is. After all, you touched him many times before. But this, him sitting on top of you, his hand wrapped around your neck…

You shake your head. But this isn’t Yuji Itadori. This is Sukuna, the king of curses.

“What’s on your mind? I bet you secretly like that.”

You glare up at him and his stupid grin. What are you supposed to do? Whatever is going on, it doesn’t seem as if Yuji will come back any time soon. Is Megumi around? You can detect him either.

So you have to deal with this on your own.

Fine.

One last deep breath. One last spark of focus to defeat him.

As fast as you can you lift and wrap your legs around his neck, pushing your hips through and holding his hands around your neck in place. With full force you pinch your knees, drive your hips forward and free yourself out of his grip. You can tell that he didn’t expect this, that he won’t fight back. Your fists darts towards his face, only inches away until-

“(y/n).”

Just inches before you hit his nose with full force, you stop in your tracks. No, this didn’t sound like Sukuna. Could it really be…?

“Are you okay?”

“Yuji”, you breathe out.

You tear up, a silent scream of relief escapes your lips as you lunge yourself towards him, landing on top of his chest as you hug him tightly.

“I thought I lost you…”

“Sorry that you were worried. Did Sukuna hurt you? Are you okay?”

His tender brown eyes wander along your slightly bruised body while a wave of respite washes over you. You thought he is dead. Or even worse, that Sukuna will occupy him forever. But he’s back, the boy you love more than anything else.

“I’m fine. How are you?”

Your nails dig into his biceps while you look up at him through wet lashes, rain still pouring down at both of you without mercy.

“I’m okay. Especially since you’re fine.”

Your heart flutters, emotions threaten to overflow.

Screw it. Screw all of it.

“I love you”, you breathe out.

And then your lips meet his. Crushing down at him without mercy, through the heavy rain falls. You let yourself sink into his arms, fireworks are set off inside your stomach. God, Yuji could have died today, the second he faced that cursed spirit alone you were almost certain that you’ll never see him again. But now…Now you’re lying in his arms, kissing him with so much passion that you feel like drowning and suffocating.

“I love you too, (y/n)”, he mumbles against your lips, smiling sweetly.

“God, how much I love you.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk season one #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yuji x reader #yuji itadori #itadori #itadori yuji #yuji x you #itadori x reader #itadori x fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #fushiguro #yuji #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #gojo x reader #gojo satoru

[devildomwriter]

A Newborn Queen | Diavolo x Reader

.7K Words | AFAB! Reader | CW: mentions of labor, Diavolo and reader have childten

Every generation the Devil had a son. The son grew up, became the devil himself and their bride or lover birthed them a son or two. That’s how it always had been and how it was expected to always be. Until you. You and Diavolo had already had a son and were delighted to find you were expecting another child. Expecting a son, because anything else was unheard of, you didn’t bother with a gender reveal test.

You gripped Diavolo’s hand in pain of labor. Despite all the magic placed upon you to ease your suffering, the one who gave birth to the child of the devil was doomed to suffer pain. You knew this and accepted it, Diavolo grieved for your pain, he hated to see how you shouted in pain.

Finally, after what felt like far too long, your child arrived. Diavolo moved from your side, grabbing a blanket so he could be the first to hold your child.

The doctor gasped and yours and Diavolo’s hearts skipped, panicked something had gone wrong. But you heard the baby’s cries and sighed in relief. Diavolo, however, was still astounded.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, frightened and Diavolo shook his head to ease your nerves.

He kissed the child wrapped in a blanket in his arms and tears fell down his cheeks as he smiled. He looked at you with more love and adoration in his eyes than you’d ever seen.

He walked to you and dismissed the doctor and nurses as he sat next to you.

“___, meet our daughter.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you looked at him with as much shock as he’d had. “A girl? She’s really a girl?” Your eyes welled with tears too.

You never thought you’d have a girl. It was unheard of and Diavolo had told you as much. The fact you’d had a child at all was a blessing since conception between demons was so rare. But now you had both a son and a daughter.

Diavolo unwillingly handed your daughter to you for you to hold against your chest. Your mind raced with thoughts of wonder. How incredible was it that you’d really had a daughter?

Diavolo held you close, incredibly proud of you for enduring birth and more in love than ever that you’d blessed him with a daughter.

There was a knock on the door from Barbatos and he was allowed in.

In his arms was your two-year-old son, Chao who stretched out his arms for you. Diavolo stood up and grabbed his son, holding him against him.

Barbatos approached your side with permission and stared in delight at the child.

“Have you decided on his name?” He asked and you and Diavolo gave each other a look and grinned.

“Actually, we haven’t decided on her name just yet,” Diavolo beamed with emphasis on ‘her.’

Barbatos stiffened in shock. For a demon who could see the past and future it was rare to give him such a surprise.

His shock faded to delight and he beamed as though he were the parent himself. “This is a most wonderful surprise,” he exclaimed.

Diavolo nodded and held Chao closer to his little sister. Chao had expected a brother and you suspected it’d take him time to understand he had a sister instead.

“What do we name our Princess?” Diavolo asked as Chao rested peacefully in his arms.

You shook your head, unsure. “I hadn’t even considered girl names.”

Diavolo nodded as it was the same for him. “Chao means chaos…what about something similar for her?”

Chao looked at his dad, hearing his name, and began grabbing at his horns. Diavolo let him, to keep him calm as he discussed this with you.

You thought for a few minutes and you bounced names off each other. “Discord?” Diavolo thought aloud and you shook your head, the nam was too masculine sounding. Suddenly it hit you.

“I’ve got it,” you announced excitedly. “Disarray.”

Diavolo’s eyes widened and he thought about it. He grinned and nodded, “I love it. We can call her Ray for short.” He suggested and you nodded.

“Ray,” Chao babbled and you and Diavolo grinned and nodded.

“Yes, Chao. This is your baby sister, Ray.”

Eventually, Chao grew bored and Barbatos took him away so you and Diavolo could share in your joy. You fell asleep against Diavolo, exhausted from labor and he kissed your head as he cradled your daughter in his arms.

#obey me drabble #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me second generation #omswd diavolo x reader #omswd diavolo #obey me as dads #obey me fluff