#do I have to tag every sexuality I mentioned?

[rainba]

ღ NSFW Alphabet - Kairos ღ

I finally got around to filling this it for him!! I hope I did this right. >_<

CW/tags: 18+, mentions of pee (non-sexually in the A category), slightly creepy behaviors from Kairos, mentions of Somnophilia, Kairos with a mild eating disorder (under the X category and nowhere else. B category might be mildly triggering under this topic too.)

MDNI.

GN reader!

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

Kairos is overwhelmingly sappy right after sex. Every time the two of you finish and he collapses beside you, he’d definitely paint you with kisses while thanking you profusely. He’d also absolutely refuse to let you go, too– his arms clinging to your waist as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. It wouldn’t even matter if you needed to go to the bathroom, he’ll follow you right in there. (ﾉ´ з `)ノ

Side note: If you have a pussy, Kairos will definitely beg you to let him sit on your lap as you pee. If you have a dick, Kairos will beg you to let him hold it as you pee. o(>< )o

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

For Kairos, his favorite body part of his partner’s would have to be their mouth/lips! After all, the lips are where he kisses you, it’s where your words come from, and– truthfully, Kairos kind of has a mild oral fixation.

He just thinks your lips are just so cute and enticing…! ( ˙꒳​˙ )

As for his favorite parts of himself– he honestly just likes his stomach area. He doesn’t really know why, but he has a strange fascination with running his fingers over his ribcage, poking at them and staring at it in a mirror. However, his favorite body part will change, depending on what you compliment him the most on.

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

For many reasons, Kairos really likes to both taste cum and to cum inside your mouth. ^^;;;; He sees it as something extremely romantic! Like… You’re tasting him, consuming a part of him, part of him is (in some way) becoming a part of you! And when he tastes you, the same thing applies to him. It’s as if the two of you are merging, in a sense. ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝

Oh, also, he’s not above eating his own cum too. There will be times where he comes undone on your body then fervently licks it all up. ^^;;;;;;

After he's finished, he’ll probably tongue kiss you, pushing some of his cum into your mouth and making sure that you swallow both his spit and semen. Err… I hope you’re into that, in some way, because the idea of doing that sounds like a dream to him...! ( ´ ▿ ` )

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

Kairos has so many dirty secrets, it’s impossible to name just one. 

His most obvious dirty secret would be that he’s snuck into your place multiple times– stealing lots of your clothing, both clean and dirty. Also, um… He may or may not have used your body to get himself off while you slept. ^^;;;;; 

He’s never been confident enough to actually fuck you as you slept or anything, though…! Kairos has only ever used your thighs and hands. 

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

Poor Kairos has absolutely zero experience. Kissing? Nope. Romantic hand holding? Absolutely not. He hasn't even hugged anyone before! He's incredibly touch starved, before he meets you.

The only things he knows about sex (prior to being with you) is from porn and random threads he reads online. Sigh. ☆⌒(>。<)

So, when you first start having sex, expect him to be really messy and insecure the entire time! He’d be the type to get so excited about giving you his virginity that he cums before he can even get his boxers off. >_<

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Kairos’ favorite position would actually be something similar to missionary! He mostly just adores any position where he can see your face the entire time. Your expressions are one of his favorite things ever. (¯▿¯)

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

Kairos would be the type that tries so hard to be serious that it becomes goofy. (*^^*)♡

Sometimes he tries to say something that comes off as ‘domineering and sexy’, but he stutters on his words and his voice cracks. It just comes off as cute and pathetic.

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

Kairos would try to shave, but honestly, he’s pretty bad at it. Plus, razors get really expensive…! So he just keeps his hair down there very short and trimmed. He honestly doesn’t grow much hair down there, anyway… Plus, his hairs are actually white. ^^;;;;;;; 

(I imagine his natural hair color is white, but he dyes half of it black.)

(ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᶦᵍᵍˡᶦⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶦᵈᵉᵃ ᵒᶠ ᴷᵃᶦʳᵒˢ ᵈʸᵉᶦⁿᵍ ʰᶦˢ ʰᵃᶦʳ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵃˡᶠ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ, ᵗᵒᵒ.)

He'll shave completely for you, though, if you ask him to!!

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

Kairos is very romantic! During the moment, he wants the both of you to always feel really good, and he’ll make sure to ask how you’re doing throughout sex.

However, there will be times where he loses control over himself, and he can go a bit… Overboard while chasing his climax. ^^;;;; But he apologizes afterwards!

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

In the past, Kairos has definitely tried to make some DIY sex toys, but… They never really worked out for him. So, most of the time, he just uses his hands. >_< He always prefers to have his face buried in your clothes while he touches himself, taking in your scent that lingers on it. He also tries to find lewd 'x Listener' audios online and looks for people who have voices that sound like yours.

If… If he’s feeling particularly horny, the go-to clothing item that he buries his face in is your used underwear… ☆ｏ(＞＜；)○

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Kairos’ most prominent kinks are definitely somnophilia, face-fucking (both giving and receiving), knife play, praise, worshipping, etc. >_<

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It’s… A bit of a boring answer, but honestly, he just really likes the bed. It’s so soft and cozy, so warm and intimate! His bed is the perfect spot for it all to happen. If he has to give a second answer, he also likes having sex on his computer chair.

He’d absolutely love it if you rode his dick while he’s on his computer, or if you sneak underneath his desk and give him head while he tries to work or play games. ღ

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

Honestly, just about anything turns him on when it comes to you.

Your skin is showing a bit? His face is now all red. You bend over or stretch in front of him? Now he’s thinking lewd thoughts. You whisper something dirty in his ear or mention something that even hints at the idea of sex? He’s sweating and rubbing his thighs together.

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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

There’s honestly not much that he would say no to. Whatever you want is ultimately what Kairos wants…! So, even if he seems mildly uncomfortable about something at first, he’ll grow to like it if you love it.

I think one thing he would say no to is being cucked or starting an open relationship. Honestly, suggesting those things to him would make him start crying on the spot. (っ´ω`)ﾉ(╥ω╥)

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

Kairos absolutely loves both giving and receiving. While he might not be very good at giving, he’d be so enthusiastic about it that it’s really endearing! Kairos would want to try all kinds of techniques and positions– both ways.

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

Kairos has a weird tendency to awkwardly shift back and forth between fast and slow, rough and sensual. In one second, he’ll be thrusting his hips like a wild animal, and in the next, he’ll be moving dreadfully slow.

There is usually a thought process behind this: he goes extremely fast when he’s not thinking straight, but when he feels himself about to cum, he’ll stop moving so quickly, just because he wants to keep fucking you for a little bit longer. ღ

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

Kairos doesn’t mind quickies– he likes them! But he prefers to take his time and be intimate with you. He adores lots of foreplay, and he also loves aftercare. (o^ ^o)

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

Kairos would definitely like to experiment and take risks. He finds the idea of experimenting to be really exciting, and he also believes that it’ll keep you attached to him, if the two of you are always trying new things.

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

Kairos’ stamina is… Not good. He gets tired really fast, since exercise is not his thing. But it never really stops him! He’ll keep fucking you until he physically collapses from exhaustion. ^^;;;;;;;;;

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

As much as Kairos would love to own a ton of toys, he can’t exactly afford any. ^^;;; As stated earlier, he has tried to make some DIY ones in the past, but they never really turned out too good.

However, if you buy some for him, he’ll be truly ecstatic to try them out! He’ll really push to use them on you, but also… Can… Can you use them on him? Please?

Strap a vibrator to his cock, or push one deep inside of his ass… Or do both.

Turn up the settings to the max as you overstimulate him for hours, leaving him a drooling mess while he helplessly squirms and mumbles out incoherent sentences. ( ´ ꒳ ` )

And… And can you do this to him while you cuddle and pet him? Please? And can you praise him too?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kairos likes to tease a little bit, but his teasing isn’t very… Effective. He’s someone who’s much more used to being teased instead. >_<

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

Kairos is, unintentionally, very loud. He moans, he whines, he whimpers, and he cries. He just can’t help it–! Being vocal for you is part of how he expresses his love!

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

Kairos has very sensitive nipples. ( ` ω ´ )

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) (cw: ED)

Kairos is… A little malnourished and pale, very slender. He hardly ever sees the sun, and he barely gets anything good to eat, if he can afford meals at all. Just lots of cheap sweets and cup ramen...

(Plus, there are times where he refuses to eat for days on end- simply because he believes he doesn't deserve to eat. Although, that doesn't happen very often.)

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

Always yearning… Always pining… You’re on his mind first thing in the morning, and you’re the last thing he thinks about right before he sleeps. If the two of you aren’t together, he masturbates to the thought of you at least once a day, and when you are together, he’ll want to have sex with you at least once a day as well. („• ᴗ •„)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Kairos definitely falls asleep near-instantly. His stamina is pretty bad, so after having sex, he’ll be completely spent. And, honestly, the sleep he gets afterwards is the best sleep he ever gets. ღ

#kairos posting #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere

[whorejolras]

as promised: jess' les amis fanfic rec list ✨

this is mainly e/r, a little bit of e/r/c and a few courferre

This is just the stuff that was in my bookmarks on ao3 when I started writing this post (months ago lol sorry it took so long). Going through I was shocked to see so many of my faves weren't actually bookmarked so I will for sure do a part two when I find them again, and have also added heaps of new fics to my bookmarks since then, but for now 25 fics is enough 😂

many of these will be rated E and will have sexual content, some are straight up pwp ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ok first is my ultimate fave that isn't even on ao3 anymore, but thankfully is on the authors tumblr, and that's:

Gnomon by luchia

50-80k words (?) (bc it's not on ao3 i'm estimating)

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

terrorist/assassin Enjolras my beloved ever. My fave are the "charming young man capable of being terrible" fics obviously. This one is my #1 e/r like in my head this is it's own canon. & this series has my fave e/r smut scenes ever. I still daydream about a Gnomon tv show...

- trigger warnings bc it's not on ao3 so doesn't have tags: murder, gun and knife violence, bombs, conversations about the deaths of children. this is not healthy relationship fluff but it makes for a 🥵 dynamic that's for damn sure.

also linking the rest of the series which is up on ao3 still, even though it is officially abandoned and unfinished - i am going to break my ultimate rule right off the bat and link an unfinished series bc I like it so much.

stupid terrorist boys by luchia

series, 5 works

200k words

rating: M and E

here we have gnomon's prequels, two sequels, and some one shots in between 🫶🏻

if you're here for kinky pwp Senselessly Happy and Unsuspecting could be good stand-alone (but it's better when reading in order). I would say read Gnomon first on tumblr then read the rest in order on ao3.

Silence Is the Speech of Love by lady_ragnell

50k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire, background Courfeyrac/Marius/Cosette

Enjolras is cursed for speaking out against the gods, Grantaire is there for him.

will I ever shut up about this fic? Never. fave fave fave. the world building, the mythological/religious system, the writing, the "I love you" "I don't think you do, actually" scene URGH!!!! I think of this fic every time i hear chopsticks. Everything happening with courf/marius/cosette, and the genius inclusion of social worker Fantine my beloved. This is one of those "could be it's own novel" fics.

and the sequel from Enjolras' pov 😭 - Left Unsaid

World Ain't Ready by idiopathicsmile

185k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire

yes it's the top fic yes everyone probably knows it but it's good for a reason. THE fake dating high school au fic that I broke all my rules for back in 2015. I refused to read unfinished fics, let alone T rated high school fics, yet I remember waiting for the updates for this one as it came out, messaging mutuals on the day the last chapter was released. and every time I reread I remember why. Brilliantly written, the pining, the angst, the miscommunications. All the Joly and Bossuet scenes.

honourable mention to the scene where Joly is so excited for the battle of the bands, then next scene starts with "I think it's more of a sitting night today" the realest simple yet most gut punching illustration of chronic pain that gets my ass every time.

Lovesickness by idiopathicsmile

11k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire, Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta

(we're gonna see a fair bit of idiopathicsmile on here)

this is one of my absolute favourites. not only bc I quote "hit by a truck full of shirts" all the time. a Joly pov fic!!!!!! my beloved!!!!! I'm a BIG JBM fan (they are essential to me when I'm writing grantaire) and love fics that stay true to his friendship with Joly and Bossuet. also I love when Enjolras is a giant dumbass who thinks his feelings for Grantaire is a mystery illness 😂

Still the Same by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna)

74k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

ok ok ok. listen. Yes. in this fic, Enjolras IS an fbi agent... and u know i'm the first and last to scream acab always...

that being said this is fully still one of my fave e/r/c fics. Enjolras and Combeferre are married & Enjolras needs to work with art thief Grantaire (fave) on a case. also that one bit at the end when Grantaire *redacted* 👀🫣

cupbearer by illuminate*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

series, 4 works

124k words total

ratings: T, M & E

Enjolras/Grantaire

this series!!!!!! VAMPIRE ENJOLRAS!!!! thrall Grantaire!!!! canon era AND modern au! REINCARNATION!!!! i'm eeeeaaaaattiiiing 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

More Than Just a Game by ecaitlin

36k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Combeferre

Fake dating courferre 😭 this one is so good for the desert scene alone 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 one of my fave courferre fics

Good Intentions by ecaitlin

95k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Combeferre, background Marius/Cosette, Joly/Bossuet, Bahorel/Feuilly, and Enjolras/Grantaire ofc

THE les amis hogwarts au. 95k of Courfeyrac pov is always a treat for the system. in their last year at hogwarts, Courfeyrac decides to play matchmaker for all his friends. shenanigans!!!! fuck jkr, but whenever I wanna reread harry potter again I read this fic 🫶🏻 fave courferre ever, and also fave background e/r

if you remembered me by nightswatch*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

40k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

one thing about me is I love an amnesia fic! Enjolras loses his memory and Grantaire helps him recover 👀 this one's for the hurt/comfort and miscommunication/not being upfront about shit fans. also there's some past Grantaire/Combeferre and i'm always a fan

Beautiful Music Together by lady_ragnell

31k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Marius/Cosette

a rare Courf/Marius/Cosette fic for your palette. established Marius/Cosette need a little help from their good friend Courf with their sex life 👀 while the three of them also work on a musical assignment together 😭 prequel to You Dance Dreams kinda 👀

You Dance Dreams by lady_ragnell

61k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

(you can tell when i've found a writer who has a fair few fics and just gone nuts lol, lots of lady_ragnell too)

BALLET AU I LOVE YOU!!!!!! so set in the same universe as Beautiful Music Together, Combeferre ropes everyone into working on his opera, a Midsummer Night's Dream sequel. Grantaire dances as Puck alongside Enjolras singing as Oberon 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

In Defiance of all Geometry by idopathicsmile

51k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

this is a top fave E/R/C fic and a top fave les amis fic of all time! Them living in a co-op and all the little details of how they make it work is sooooo real and anyone who wants to see accurately written community organising in les amis fic it's here! now for the ✨romance✨ - Grantaire moves in to the amis co-op and starts crushing on both Enjolras and Combeferre, who have both been pining for each other for years.

Years Since It's Been Clear by lady_ragnell

10k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

Enjolras offers his spare room to grantaire - or the one where enjolras chases the sun across the living room floor like a cat. That image has lived rent free in my head for and I am not exaggerating here, 10 years.

Gonna need (a spark to ignite) by FinditAgain*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

47k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

soulmate au! soulmate au with E/R/C!!!!!!! enjolras and combeferre are soulmates who lost their bond as children. when combeferre and enjolras find each other as adults, enjolras is already in an established relationship with grantaire 👀👀👀

secret agent man by goshemily

30k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

yes another cop one haha 😭 bc if ur not able to contradict urself with the media u like are u even a person? but also I wouldn't recommend if it wasn't a good read for the stairs scene alone 😅 Enjolras and Grantaire need to go undercover as a married couple in a small town.

Leaves in the Void by myrmidryad

16k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

this is one i've found since rejoining tumblr late last year that 😭 fully broke my heart bro 😭 space au, enjolras writes letters to everyone when he's accidentally isolated on a ship for what to him was eight and half months but was two hours for everyone else.

Blame Delicate Artemis by hyenateeth

22k words

rating: E

femslash Enjolras/Grantaire

posting omegaverse on main? more likely than you think!

this is porn with a tiny bit of plot, but also one of my fave for femslash e/r and also..... girl dick. that's all.

omega enjolras alpha grantaire canon era lesbians.

that's enough description to find its right audience I feel

Eyes to Serve, Hands to Learn by myrmidryad

94k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

Grantaire runs into Enjolras at a kink club. enter 94,000 words of bdsm porn and pining. mostly dom Enjolras and submissive Grantaire, mostly.

Never Be Satisfied by torakowalski

15k words

rating: E

femslash Enjolras/Grantaire

dental dam mention! win!

Grantaire gives Enjolras some advice, lends some toys, and then offers some hands on help when she learns Enjolras has never come before 😏

potentially lovely, perpetually human by myrmidryad

20k words

not rated, does contain smut

Enjolras/Grantaire

lots of myrmidryad here too lol

two of my favourite tropes here. 1: supernatural Enjolras who's in control of his abilities except when it comes to Grantaire (see cupbearer series) and 2: nonbinary Grantaire my beloved!!! Enjolras has psychic empathy triggered by physical touch, so he refuses to touch anyone: until his touch starved ass accidentally touches Grantaire and feels what they're feeling 🥹

Witchboy by tothewillofthepeople

series, 8 works

84k words

rating: T, M

Enjolras/Grantaire

this one is a more recent recommendation that I loved, the world building and magic is so good, there's some great background eposette and patron minette which I'm always a fan of.

i'm not the moon (i'm not even a star) by serinesaccade

40k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

amnesia fic and fake dating 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 this time we've got Grantaire losing his memories and waking up in a world where he has a really hot boyfriend, but apparently his 1.5 year relationship with Enjolras isn't what it seems 👀

and let's round this out with a classic

Thirty-Two Times by Ark

7k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

the bottom R canon era bible 🙏🏻

i'm sorry i feel like my emoji use is very millennial. jsyk 👌🏻 is me clicking with my nails ok bye 😘

if you want more i'm whorejolras on ao3 go nuts 🙌🏻

#mine #omg me actually doing something i said i'd do only like four months later look at that #adhd one hell of a drug yall #fic recs #fanfic #les mis fanfic #les amis fanfic #e/r #les mis #grantaire #enjolras #les amis #e/r/c #courferre #jbm #les miserables #why is my capitalisation all over the place?? uhh look over there 👈🏃‍♂️💨 #sorry not tagging ppl on tumble even though i know the authors are bc adding the links was hassle enough and also i don't wanna bother any1

[takeyourcyanide]

Do What You Will

AO3

TWs: Repeated Mentions of R@pe, Implied/Referenced Childhood/General Sexual Abuse

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Franken Stein, Marie Mjolnir, Spirit Albarn, Yumi Azusa, Lord Death

Tags: Implied/Reference R@pe/Non-Con, Implied Mind R@pe, Implied/Referenced Child, Abuse Implied Childhood Sexual, Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Trauma, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Not Beta Read, Triggers, Franken Stein Has Sexual Trauma, Age Regression/De-Aging, Hurt/No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 6 978

Summary: Stein believes Marie is going to harm him in some way, and it ultimately leads to a belief she has assaulted him in his sleep, and planned to assault him whilst awake. Marie is unsure how to handle the situation.

Note(s): I hope this isn’t all over the place. This took me way too long, I’ve been so scrambled lately. I forgot what I was originally going to say. I can only imagine everyone’s faces when they read that summary haha. I’m working on other shit. When it comes to the series, I’m not sure that I’m going to do multi-perspective. Most likely not.

With the crashing of the thunder came the flashing and burning of the lightning, in which they disguised themselves, capturing Stein freely, flash on, through the now covered window.

Franken stared unnerved daggers into the all-encompassing darkness drawing him in, into the ceiling on which it seemed both spiders and some sort of humanoid creature crawled.

The bugs dashed and chased on and under his unwilling, exhausted, and pallid flesh, fingertips brushing against his scalp, his shoulders, his neck, as he pondered until morning what would be done of his saying too much.

The metal, rusted frame of his unwelcoming bed creaked with fervor from the slightest of breaths, from the slightest of movements. He’d have covered his ringing ears, but his extremities were practically paralyzed under the weight of the raging, unbridled, and crushing trepidation.

He’d been forced to rely on Marie. It wasn’t his fault. He was forced to confide in Marie. He didn’t want to. He hadn’t failed himself. He hadn’t worked against himself. She wouldn’t hurt him. But there was no point in deceiving himself for the sole sake of comfort; then he’d be just the same as each and every coward he’d ever criticized and chided.

What would the woman do to him? He had calculated from the very beginning that her kindness and generosity was a mere act; an easy and banal way in which she could earn the trust of others, particularly Stein, only to suck his soul of whatever life is still left within it.. For whatever life he was born with. But how would she utilize her mask to her advantage? Franken could see through her, and manipulation seldom worked on him… Or did it? What if she had mastered the art and he hadn’t even realized he was being played? Would she do something physical? Or would she simply tell everyone about the deepest pits of his harrowed soul?

He never wanted to see her again. He never wanted to hear of her again. He never wanted to see, nor hear of anyone ever again.

He had to kill her. Not even dissect her. Kill her. He never had an interest in basic and overdone homicide, but how else could he achieve safety? Would he ever? Had he ever once experienced such a feeling? No. He needed to kill her. Maybe a prompt dissection afterwards. Perhaps he’d even experiment on her if he felt well enough. But that was not the goal. He had to kill her. If not kill, then run away from her. He knew not of what she would do, but he knew for certain she’d do something.

His formerly chilled skin warmed to unprecedented levels for reasons he could not comprehend, the steady ringing growing louder, a hushed whisper and a lullaby joining the unending and incessant noise.

Stein wanted to scream, bloodcurdlingly scream… He wanted to scream, and scream, and scream until his sore throat bled, the thick, crimson liquid pouring out from his shredded lips. He wanted to rip each individual strand of tangling, unkempt, and rustling hair from out of his head, he wanted to devour himself whole, just as the supposed “paranoia” was. It was slowly turning his entire body inside out, toying with him as though he were but a helpless rag doll.

But they only wanted him to believe that he was just paranoid, so that they could more easily do as they pleased with him.

Lord Death would surely put him to death for murdering a comrade. But would that be so bad? But then all of the work he put into rehabilitating, or rather, suppressing his violence, his malice would be thrown out of the same window that they were all looking in on him from.

What would become of him if he were to run away? Perhaps he could simply attempt an escape first and see how that pans out; an experiment. His favorite.

Stein glanced over at his small, bedside clock, of which read in luminous, ruby numbers, ‘04:44.’

Marie was an early riser. She’d typically awaken and begin undertaking her habitual routine anywhere from 06:00 to 07:00 in the morning. And it was only a Thursday, meaning she had to be within the DWMA’s walls by 08:00.

Once she leaves and moves far enough away, he’d go… somewhere. He couldn’t simply venture out into the desert could he? The DWMA had eyes everywhere, they’d catch him eventually, especially if he were to be still within the confines of the city. And he didn’t have a plane ticket.

What if he were to hide out at some bar? A tavern such as Chupa Cabra’s, perhaps? No one would expect him to be there… But the staff would surely notify every one of his appearance at their establishment the very moment he’s classified as missing. Not to mention, they’d find his long stay awfully conspicuous… And they’d have to close eventually…

Where could he go? Perhaps he’d simply have to stay in his laboratory. He could attempt to avoid Marie, but she’s a persistent woman.

Then again, he was the strongest meister to ever graduate from the academy… Surely he could defend himself. But he was vulnerable in the current state he was in.

As he checked the clock again, which now read ‘5:14,’ a certain phrase buzzed around, shouting in his skull repeatedly;

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

🎩 🎩

🍭<(^-^)>🦖

“I made some breakfast, if you’d like some. It’s nothing much, though,” Marie distractedly stated from the bathroom, fiddling with her blonde hair, as Stein trudged leisurely past her.

He spared a concurrently disinterested and suspicious glance over at the kitchen, canned crescents stacked upon a rotund, oxidized pan, the scent of the food wafting out and filling various sectors of the laboratory.

The meister took an almost unnatural-seeming seat down onto one of the two loveseats perched facing one another in the quaint living space, his body taut, muscles refusing to relax, unable to freely sink into the inviting coziness of the cushions.

“You need to eat, Stein,” the weapon gently lectured, sticking the end of one of her golden earrings in and through the teensy little hole in her lobe. “You know you shouldn’t be skipping meals.”

“‘M not hungry,” he muttered under his breath, eyes threatening to close as he babbled out an overtired, and low-pitched whine in protest - one of which Marie herself was unable to detect.

“But you didn’t eat hardly anything last night, surely you are,” she spoke with a tone of disbelief, as thought Stein were the liar and not her, whilst straightening her lengthy skirt.

“I don’t want to eat,” he gripped his lower lip with his sharp teeth the moment his partner’s hand made contact with his scalp, with his silver hair. It was similar to that of the invisible being’s touch, but more soothing, and less attention-seeking.

She gently ran over the more fragile skin with the very tips of her painted nails, running lithe and well-versed fingers throughout his hair just the way he liked it.

Manipulative and calculating was she.

“Come on, Franken. Unless you think it might nauseate you this time, you need to eat something before I leave. I want to watch you. You’re my responsibility now, and that includes your terrible eating habits,” as opposed to continuing with the mauling of his lips, he moved to roll his inner cheek in between his teeth, biting down hard into the ample and soon-to-be irritated tissue, helping him to focus on not allowing his body to go slack, and melt into her beguiling ministrations; that’s only what she wanted out of him.

Though after the noise-filled, restless night he had, he’d be lying if he said the gesture wasn’t lulling him into a soundless sleep.

But that’s only precisely what she intended to happen.

Stein bolted away from her touch as thought it had scorched his skin, a surge of seething paranoia manhandling his limbs for him. Marie’s eyes briefly widened, before a concerned and baffled glint bloomed within her brown eyes.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She prodded with a sincere countenance, though that did not fool the mistrustful and non-naive scientist.

“Nothing,” he stood guardedly, his alert eyes bulging out from their sockets - somehow his most striking feature despite the screw protruding from the side of his head. He held his arms in a folded manner, close to his sternum, as though he were attempting to shrink away from whatever stimulus had disturbed him so demonstrably.

Marie analyzed the ever-clicking clock, reading aloud, ‘7:29,’ with a pensive sigh.

“I’ve got to head to the academy, Stein - just… Please, eat something today.. Something more substantial than a small snack if you can. And if you can’t, then try to eat multiple little snacks or something until I get home. And just remember, you can tell me anything, okay?”

In other words, “feed me more information.”

Stein kept his mouth closed, continuing to shy away from her very presence, as he observed her every step whilst she sauntered towards the door, a perturbed expression on her visage.

“I’ll be back soon,” she flashed him a kind and somewhat knowing smile as she exited the premises.

What did she know that he didn’t?

Upon her departure, Franken spun in repetitive circles, scanning each and every crevice which surrounded him with a simultaneously quizzical and agitated gaze.

And it ran through his head once more;

What does she know that I do not? What is it that I am missing? Does she have a leg up on me? Perhaps. What do I do? What will *she* do?

A rather delicate tapping on his shoulder left him reeling, whipping around, only to discover nothing, save for a promptly dissipating shadowy figure.

They were taunting him.

“Go away,” he murmured, his face rather petulant, as he awkwardly stood in place.

He stared into the abyssal corridor, considering striding his way back into the warmth of his bed, deterred by the clear and unsettling presence howling from within it, audibly groaning in annoyance.

But he needed to walk through the hallway, even despite the stirring, for they were each still monitoring him intently, sniffing out his vulnerability like bloodhounds. What if they were to see that he was too disquieted to enter a stupid hallway? He’d be easy prey for them, then. He was acting as though he were a scared and small child begging his parents to check the closet and look under the bed for the curated ‘boogeyman.’

And if he were being frank, he almost wished there was someone here whom he could send through the daunting corridor before him - or perhaps even walk alongside him. But that was a moronic desire to have, thus he settled on shoving the odd clump of feelings down, mechanically marching through the energies, of which, too, followed after and above him.

Stein rushed under the weight of his blanket, eyes batting back and forth and all over wildly, as he made himself as comfortable as he could possibly be given his current predicament.

He retrieved the little stuffed, stitched up and bandaged T-Rex which laid beside him, cradling it against his chest, as he slotted his thumb immaturely between his two metallic-tasting lips, the blanket up and over his hiding head.

What was he meant to do the rest of the day? Question precisely what would be done with him? He didn’t wish to think about that.

What was he meant to do the rest of the day? He could no longer research, he could no longer do anything other than shout back at the fizzling static. He couldn’t nourish himself, he couldn’t sleep properly, for even if he did sleep, it was never restful. He couldn’t take care of himself. He’d grown into a large child.

The thought left him to curl in on himself even more so. He’d say that at least he was still emotionally independent, but Marie keeps trying to force him not to be. She, the rest of the academy, and the radio wanted nothing more than to take everything from him. Is that what she’d do? No poisoning, no rape, no selling him into sex slavery, no simply being here to mock him, no nothing except for further ruining him? She’d most definitely discuss her breaking of him with the others, though, there was no doubt about it.

Every thought he could hardly process, every foreign feeling rising within him culminated into one large whirlwind swirling and twisting his insides. He clutched the stuffed toy closer to his chest, his chin resting on its fuzzy head, as he closed his eyes, only to reopen them upon hearing their breathing, feeling their presences.

This became a repetitive process long ago; opening and closing, and opening and closing. Over and over again. Eventually, he’d managed to slip into a wasteful sleep, finding himself awake once more within an hour or less. Over and over again.

The more they sang, the more they muttered, the more a certain frustrated ball raged in his throat, the closing muscles in his throat battling and arguing with his open glottis, just as he’d been in a constant shouting match with the popping static since day one.

The foreign sensation worked in tandem with the old friend he was well-versed with, feeding on his decomposing flesh like vultures whilst he supposedly lived, as he shoved his face into his stuffed animal, avoiding what stood all around him, as well as the light of the morning sun illuminating his gelid bedroom.

It was truly a never-ending cycle; the same precise process over and over again.

🎩 🎩

🍭<(^-^)>🦖

Stein groggily peeled his eyelids open, entirely disorientated as he took in the lack of light, his eyes oddly moist, rubbing the obnoxiously yucky, sticky discharge from his eyes, as he jolted his body upwards, coughing and wheezing into his clammy hand. He pitifully whimpered, still feeling too small for the body he was inhabiting, internally frigid, despite his perspiring skin being swelteringly hot, trying desperately to breathe through his snotty nose.

The cacophonous sound of steel cookware banging against various other materials caught his attention, the world spinning uncontrollably after he whipped his head in the direction of the sound.

Was Marie home already? For how long had he managed to sleep? But he couldn’t feel this way when she or anyone else was around.. What was she going to do to him? What did she want from him? And why was he suddenly sick? Had he quite literally neglected and stressed himself to the point of illness?

His train of frazzled thought was ultimately interrupted by the grumbling of his intestines, and the burning within his vacant stomach. A sense of hunger-induced nausea rose within him, leaving him feeling faint and weary.

Perhaps he’d have to eat whatever Marie decided to whip up. At the end of the day, if it happened to be poisoned or anything, at least that would add a layer of thrill to his currently mundane life.

Franken utilized the smooth, stone walls as an aid whilst he stepped lethargically through the corridor, having hardly made it down the stairs without injury, his surroundings still twisting and turning like warping mirrors in a funhouse, squinting his bare eyes as a sudden burst of light came into view.

“Stein! You’re awake!” The weapon joyously spoke, dancing around the laboratory like some sort of conniving, and overly-expressive ballerina. “I checked on you once I got home, but you were deep asleep. It’s already past seven.”

Deep asleep? She went into his room? What? Why? What? What did she- no.. Did she do something? What did she want? What did she do? What happened? He never sleeps deeply, nor for a very long time. How did he manage to sleep that long? Why’d he have to be sick now? Did she touch him, too? What did she do to him? Why didn’t he wake up? Is he that sick? Wha-

“Earth to Stein? Are you okay?” Marie waved the hand that surely grazed his skin in front of his watering eyes, his chest tightening. “Hey… You don’t look so good. Are you sick?” She placed her palm over the male’s dazed forehead, countenance becoming rather worried and shocked, as she gasped out, “You feel really warm.”

The meister remained still, unresponsive towards her manipulation, as Marie gave him the once-over, observing right away how the tone of his skin seemed to lighten significantly since she last laid eyes on him, and how flushed his cheeks were. His shoulders were slumped morosely, his under-eyes blending in with the absence of light in the hallway.

“You should really take some medicine, Franken,” she softly stated, placing a cool hand on his heated shoulder.

Stein flinched away, instinctually grimacing, acting on a sort of fight or flight response. He bit on the inside of his lips, shuffling away from his weapon.

“What’s wrong?” She appeared almost guilty.

He wanted to tell her to stop pretending. To just be honest about wanting to have her way with him. Or mocking him. Or whatever else she premeditates and has done. She was just like everyone else, after all. Unfortunately, however, his mouth would not comply with his desires, opening and closing just as his eyes had earlier, unable to form a sentence properly. So, he simply settled on shaking his head back and forth, twitching his fingers, and continuing to shuffle backwards away from her imminent touch.

She wanted to have her way with him.

“It’s okay, Franken,” Marie had seen him get this way before. He’d behave rather childishly, though given her proclivity towards children, she never once minded taking care of him. The only problem was that Stein minded. “You can tell me what’s wrong.”

A sizzling emanated from the kitchen. Along with the random flashing of a light, which caught the scientist’s waning attention. The woman’s prodding voice disappeared into the ringing, of which overpowered her ceaseless incanting. The only string of words he managed to process happened to be:

“Franken? Are you maybe feeling… a little small on top of sick? Do you want me to get some medicine for you?”

Was it that obvious?

He couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to rush away from her, and lock himself away from her greedy fingers. Wouldn’t she just transform her hand into her hammer form and knock down the door if necessary? What was the point?

Stein nearly sucked his whole bottom lip into his mouth, concealing the gentle quivering with his teeth, though she was standing directly before him and could easily watch as he suppressed salty tears.

Why was he even beginning to cry? He never felt the urge to weep - even as a small child. He was only failing himself, allowing for Marie to swoop, with ease, in and exact every single vile fantasy she’s ever had onto him.

“Hey… Don’t cry,” she stepped forward, closer to her meister, of whom hadn’t even realized he was blubbering.

Stein began hacking again, shoving his face into the crook of his arm, whining noiselessly as his body convulsed, sniveling.

“Aw, sweetie,” Marie tried to soothingly pat him on the back, empathetically pouting as she ogled at how his frame shook.

Franken, once again, jerked away, shouting, “No!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the woman panicked, as a harsh and distressed sob interrupted his violent coughing. “I won’t touch you again. It was on instinct, I-“

“You ‘ill ‘gin,” he slurred his words together horribly, struggling to breathe and speak as he crumbled completely, sitting on the icy floor, his back against the wall.

“Huh?”

“Y’u will again!” Franken exclaimed, his legs sprawled out in defeat, his arms limp, his chest bumping up and retracting rapidly.

“No, love, I won’t. If you don’t want me to touch you, then I won’t, I promise.”

“S’op lying,” he snarled. “‘Ou went in bedroom an’..”

“Oh, no, Stein, no, no, no, no… All I did was crack open the door. I just noticed you were sleeping, that’s all,” her eyes widened significantly at what he was implying, her stomach falling to her feet. “I would never ever do anything like that to you - or anyone else, for that matter.”

Marie kneeled down, far enough that no contact was made, but still too close for comfort, as any form of ‘by him’ was enough to startle. But, truly, she had no clue as to how she could console Stein without involving physical contact. That’s what she was used to, after all. Evidently, that was the complete opposite of what he was used to or usually enjoyed. Though she’d try her best regardless.

Franken shrunk in on himself, bringing his knees against his abdomen, away from the weapon, hiccuping, wetness staining his face, as his eyes swelled.

She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t the least bit cute to see the typically stoic, somewhat composed and calm man shudder and pout. It was, however, a little difficult to focus on how much she wanted to just squeeze him when he was… seemingly experiencing genuine terror for the first time in his life, and well.. accusing her of a nauseating practice for unknown reasons. Perhaps it was madness-induced?

“Come on, you have to know I’d never do that,” she drawled, earning the most malice-filled glare ever directed towards her. “Okay, look… I know this must be scary for you, but I don’t understand why you’d think that. I mean… While you were pretty deep asleep, I’m sure you would’ve woken up if.. Death, I don’t even want to think about that,” Stein coughed once more, shoving his head into his knees to evade the sheer dizziness of it all.

She sat down, leaning against the wall opposite to the scientist, of whom had returned to apprehensively eyeing her.

“Liar,” he sniffled, somehow managing to back further away into the concrete and stone. “List’ning ‘n watching, too…”

“What?” Marie confusedly tilted her head, particularly taken aback at whatever notion that happened to be.

“Go’way…”

“Are you sure you want me to leave?”

“Go away,” he demanded more persistently than before.

“Okay… If that’s what you need, sweetheart,” she lifted her body, standing and glancing over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen, fully prepared to throw the surely scorched food out.

Stein observed how almost disappointed and distraught she appeared, how sullenly she moved.

‘Someone give that woman an Oscar,’ was the first thought that came to his mind.

🎩 🎩

🍭<(^-^)>🦖

“I just… I don’t know what to do,” Marie abruptly huffed in complaint, playing with the food she had diligently prepared.

A variety of smells intermingled, everyone having cooked vastly different meals for their lunch-break, the Death Room’s brilliantly blue sky blessing their food, never faltering despite the fog and thick clouds saturating the outside.

“Oh, Death, what relationship troubles are you experiencing this time?” Azusa sarcastically questioned, earning a snicker from Spirit.

They were each sitting, comfortably cramped, around a boxy and wooden table, including Lord Death himself, of whom merely chuckled along with the group’s antics.

“No, no…. Actually, it’s not that this time,” the hammer sighed sorrowfully, taking a humble bite out of her chicken. Her eyebrows were pinched closely together, her jaw clenched in anxiety.

“Then what could it possibly be?” Albarn teased, a blithely sardonic smirk stretched across his visage. Mjolnir scowled at him, smacking his upper arm upon hearing his mirthful giggles.

“It’s about Stein, you jerks,” she almost seemed genuinely offended and hurt, visibly perturbed.

“Oh, has something happen?” Yumi immediately placed her utensils onto the table, paying her utmost attention to Marie.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about him… And stop by for a visit,” Spirit, too, attentively sat, too unease to continue plunging food down his gluttonous gullet.

“It’s just… He.. I think the madness is getting worse…”

“In what way? Is he attempting to cut you open?” Azusa jumped the gun, solemnly ready to attack.

“No! No, no… Not yet, anyway.. He just accused me last night of… Ugh, this is.. He, like, broke down and accused me assaulting him in his sleep.. And then he said something about ‘listening’ and ‘watching,’” Marie shuddered, repulsed by the very prospect of the accusation.

Lord Death and Azusa kept silent, analyzing and processing the words said to them intently and pensively.

“What did you say back? How did you respond?” The seriousness and urgency on the scythe’s countenance was uncharacteristic of him, only serving to further trouble the blonde.

“Well- I, uh… I told him that I’d never do that, and I didn’t really get why he was saying that, and I knew it must have been scary for him, and that he’d have to know I would never do such a thing, and-“

“Don’t argue with it,” he held his hands up warily and advisedly.

“What am I supposed to do, lie and tell him I actually raped him?” A wave of defensive surprise washed over her.

“No.. God, fucking no! Whatever you do, don’t argue OR validate that shit. Look - I’ve been through this with him before, though he’s typically not that open about it…. He started acting kinda weird and out soul resonance began to suffer, and I found out he thought I put cameras and shit in the vents and around the house, and was selling the video is online, and telling Lord Death over here literally everything he ever did or said,” Spirit elucidated, pointing informally with his thumb over at his boss. “I made the same mistake of getting defensive about it and arguing with him. We couldn’t resonate for a good couple of weeks until whatever that was went away somewhat, because he had absolutely no trust in me at all.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? He was sick, too.. I don’t even know if he took anything after I went to bed…”

“Just-“

“And it’s not like I could get close enough to try and comfort him or anything,” she neurotically interjected.

“Just remember that he’s not gonna believe anything you try to do to convince him otherwise. He’ll be suspicious of you no matter what you do. And if he’s not accepting any sort of physical contact, just… Erm… Well, say sort of what you said, like, ‘Oh, it must be really scary to think that.’ Though he may not exactly love that either, it’s better than entirely dismissing him. Just ask him why he thinks what he thinks, but be aware that it may sound a little off or strange. You need to allow him to slowly warm up to whatever sort of comfort you try to give him. Be reassuring and patient. It’s a little hard to know what to do in the moment, but you’ll learn, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” Marie had never felt so grateful over something Spirit had said or done.

“Yes, absolutely. I did. It’s not something he really talked about, but whenever he started to act even weirder than usual, it was just like a switch would go off in my brain, and I would just prepare for whatever consequences came from his thoughts,” the ginger tittered in remembrance. “He’d go from, like, his usual… just existing self to startlingly agitated due to this all, so it’s something I just learned how to handle.”

“Yeah, I noticed that… Thank you, Spirit,” she flashed him an indebted and sweet smile, the corners of her mouth stretching from ear to ear.

“Oh! And also, pay extremely close attention to the language you use while talking to him. One wrong word and I was on trial,” he laughed, grinning himself.

“What do you mean exactly?” She curiously prodded.

“Anything that would imply you feel obligated to do whatever you’re doing is a no-go, I noticed. And anything that would imply a loss of control on his part, or… I’d say anything that’d imply you actually did whatever he thinks you did or are planning on it, or are going to harm him in some way, but just your existence is evidence of that to him,” Albarn began to scarf down his food again, feeling a little more confident in his friend’s abilities to assist his other friend.

“Oh… I told him this morning that he was my responsibility.. Is that included? Is that bad?” A surge of guilt and self-directed frustration swirled within her body.

Death Scythe nearly choked on his food, shaking his head theatrically back and forth.

“Fuck, no! Don’t say that again unless you want to infinitely worsen everything,” he swallowed his meal cartoonishly loud. “For him, that’s, like… It sort of equals, ‘Oh, they don’t even want to be here in the first place? They’re out to get me.’”

“Okay…. Ugh, now I feel bad,” she moaned immaturely, sulking whilst sluggishly taking in tiny bits of food.

“Well, use that to improve.. Even I don’t get it right with him one-hundred percent of the time. It’s sort of impossible with Stein.”

“I think Stein finds it impossible to get it right with himself,” Azusa sneered, breaking her long lasting silence, Marie and Spirit chortling along. “What do you think, Lord Death? You haven’t spoken much, which is odd, given that it’s you.”

“I’m frankly a little concerned.. It doesn’t seem that Stein is distinguishing between the madness and the non-madness anymore,” his body language was particularly ruminative, as his usual gleeful voice possessed a lower and more gravelly twinge to it.

“Yeah… He’s not,” Marie stared down at the table, burning a gaping hole into the oak the same size as the one carving into her thumping heart, as she watched her close friend die a slow, and painful death. “Do you think he’ll come out of it?”

“He always does. I have complete faith he will this time,” Albarn offered his opinion, or, rather, desire.

“Yeah… You’re probably right…”

Hopefully right.

🎩 🎩

🍭<(^-^)>🦖

“Stein? I’m home!” Her voice echoed, bouncing off of the walls. “Franken? Where are you?”

Marie sat her purse down onto the coffee table, roaming around the laboratory in search of her meister, finding him seemingly glued to his computer screen, staring at nothing at all whilst sitting in complete darkness, the only light coming from the living room, giggling to himself, as he spun his chair repetitively.

“Stein?”

He nearly gave himself whiplash, having harshly snapped his head towards the weapon, eyes wide open.

“Hey, what’cha doin’?” She stood awkwardly in the doorway.

Marie was a persistent woman.

The scientist continued to stare through her, that same fuzzy glint in his eyes from the previous night readily apparent.

“You still feeling a little small, baby? I know yesterday was stressful for you,” she sympathetically reminisced, Stein ripping skin off of his lips with his sharp teeth, visibly growing more uncomfortable. “How long has it been since you last ate? I know you probably didn’t eat hardly anything yesterday.”

Franken shrug his shoulders, mumbling, “What’d’y’u care? Wan’ keep me alive f’r more?”

Marie tellingly exhaled, remembering her and Spirit’s conversation. At least she could apply what she’d learned to a real situation.

“Well, I’m hungry, and was wondering if you were too. Why do you feel that way, dear?”

Stein’s face contorted into one of blunted repulsion, shrinking away from the already not close Marie.

“Not feeling very verbal, then?” The weapon languidly asked upon receiving no response… And, well, listening to how difficult it seemed to be for him to simply speak. “You wanna come sit on the couch with me? I’m gonna order us some food.”

She wasn’t going to allow for letting more food go to waste.

The meister appeared fairly on tenterhooks at the notion, his formerly bulging eyes narrowing in leeriness.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready to.. I can sit out here if you want to come out.”

“Why’re y’u bein’ so nice?” He maffled, his right thumb unconsciously making its way past his lips, as he chewed on it, sucking on portions of the skin at times.

If she were to say it was because he’s her friend, would he view that as obligation?

“I want to be. You’re just adorable,” she beamed, avoiding a variety of responses that floated about in her brain.

That disgusted grimace returned to his face, or rather, a disgusted twinge. It wasn’t something she took to heart, for it was clear to her that it was an instinctual, guttural reaction he was having to the foreign treatment. And it certainly didn’t help that he was entirely mistrustful of her kindness and generosity.

“Ado’ble?” He babbled out quizzically. After all, he was infamous for his violent tendencies. Most wouldn’t consider him anything other than scary.

“Adorable,” she assured, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.

How could she not find him cute? Sure, she’d seen for herself how malevolent he could be, but watching his sadistically and atypically giddy, curious expression as he dissected anything and everything lit up her world. Though, maybe not as much as it lit up his world.

“You wanna come sit on the couch?” Marie asked once more before leaving.

While the couch did sound cozy and inviting, would she not pin him down and have her way with him? Could he use his soul-thread sutures to keep her from moving, giving him the upper-hand and ability to escape?

Stein began coughing, sniffling into his arm as his thoughts encased him.

“Aw, still a little sick? It’s hard to see how you look in this darkness,” she chuckled, waving her hands around as to almost point at the shadowy room. “How about I get you some medicine? I think we still have some liquid cold and flu stuff…”

Franken pursed his lips in response, another painful reminder of an experience he did not want, nor choose to have. That is, other than the finger lodged in his mouth that he had long since forgotten to force out, for Marie would find something to exploit regardless.

Liquid medicine was only for when he felt too incompetent to swallow pills, though she always called it “feeling small.”

“‘Kay,” his mutter was barely audible, as Marie beckoned him to follow after her, Stein complying, desperate to rid himself of his pestering illness.

When all was said and done, she’d hurt him whether he avoided her or not.

“You don’t have to speak, okay? It sounds like it’s a struggle for you right now. You don’t ever have to feel pressured to around me,”

He peered up at her most likely feigned sincere expression, his mind unfortunately betraying him as he was pushed further down into headspace.

He shouldn’t enjoy her lies. But he was. It was fuzzy-ifying in a pleasant way, for once.

Why was he even enjoying it? That’s what she wanted out of him, anyway.

A needle-less syringe filled with icky-tasting medicine was placed between his lips, floating between the two, not coming in contact with either, as the horrendously sticky liquid ran down his throat. He swallowed, snarling as he chugged down the glass of water he was given, chasing a tasteless paradise.

“Doesn’t taste very good?” She mimicked his displeased countenance, a fascinatingly empathetic response that the scientist, in any other state of mind, would pick apart until there was not an atom left. In his current mindset, he couldn’t even process thought, however, so only a quick and brief analysis was conducted, being stored in his head for a later date.

The both of them sat side by side on the quaint, little sofa, Stein still too apprehensive to sink into its warmth, though Marie sighed in relief as she fell peacefully into the cushions.

She pulled her phone out from her pocket, clicking away at what was evidently some sort of food delivery app, leaving the meister to wonder what else must’ve been in her pockets. Condoms? Or would those be in her clearly intentionally-placed purse… Right by the place she wanted Stein to be. And what was stored in her leather bag? Rope? Some sort of sex toy to use on him as he tried to writhe away? Was there a variety of toys?

Speaking of toys, the longer he found himself stuck inside of his aching skull, the more he desired to rub his hand around his T-Rex’s fur.. To caress its tail in an effort to maintain his composure.

Tears welled in his eyes, causing him to feel more pathetic and moronic than he’d ever felt before, bring his knees to his sternum, shoving his face into the crack in between.

His heart felt as if it evaporated from his body, a cavernous, hollow hole left in its place. He felt as though he might faint, though that most certainly would only give her easy access.

A sob racked his body, garnering the attention of a certain individual.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” She promptly tossed her phone aside once finished, rushing to quell whatever storm was raging on within him. “You want me to get you your dinosaur? Maybe that would help?”

Oh, God, could she read his thoughts, too?

He lifted his head, slamming it against his kneecaps repeatedly, struggling to merely inhale and exhale, teardrops having seeped into his pajama pants.

“No, no, no, don’t do that, baby,” she worriedly chided, holding his head still reflexively, immediately backing away once Stein bolted to the other side of the sofa, eyes bugging out of their sockets.

His lower lip trembled as he bit into it, whimpering as he returned to his former position, though this time yet another finger found its way back into his mouth, despite its unsanitary nature.

“Yeah, how about I get you your T-Rex? I’ll be right back, okay?”

At least something could cuddle with him. Perhaps it could soothe him and offer him some form of tranquility?

It still pained her to walk away from what might as well have been a weeping baby, especially since that baby was Stein. And Stein didn’t cry. So, it was more than obvious that something was deeply wrong.

Eventually, she’d rushed back to their shared living space, holding out the stuffed animal for him to latch onto and take.

He lifted his eyes cautiously, speedily yanking his favorite stuffie from out of her covetous, unrelenting, and grabby hands, tucking it in between his knees and against his sternum.

What if the supposed “medicine” he was given was a sedative?

His bawling only grew in intensity, as he nuzzled into the softness of his toy, gasping for air as the revelation of just how monstrously he’d betrayed himself fell upon him as crushingly as if the weight of the sun had been the thing to fall on top of him.

“Why’s ever’one wanna touch me?” He began to ramble, a few wheezes here and there as he snuffled.

“What do you mean, sweetheart? Why do you think that?” She moved back towards the sofa, plopping down onto the farthest side.

“Everyone a’ways does,” he whined into the head of the T-Rex, kicking his feet up and down, upset, similarly to a toddler. “Don’ wan’ be touched.”

A toddler…

“I’m sorry you feel that way, sweetie. It must not feel very good..”

What was she supposed to say in this situation?

“Don’ feel ‘at way! I’s the truth!” He choked on yet another convulsion-inducing sob, hugging the T-Rex even tighter than before.

Marie knew Spirit said she’d eventually adapt to Stein… But she was beginning to doubt that idea. What was she supposed to do? Just sit here and listen to him wail?

“Why do you think that?”

“‘Cause tha’s what a’ways happens!”

“Has it happened before, love?”

He glowered at her for simply asking, forcing himself deeper into the corner of the couch.

“Go’way,” he repeated once more. “Jus’ like everyone else.”

“No,” Marie denied his request. “I’m not just going to leave you alone again, Franken.”

“Why not?” He caterwauled.

“That’s not good for you. Come here, sweetheart,” she held her arms out.

“No.. I wanna be alone..”

Marie leaned closer, pulling him in, allowing for his head to rest in the crook of his neck.

Franken squirmed away from her, the weapon only continuing to hold him, hoping to Death it was comfort him in some way.

He tried to use his soul-thread sutures out of pure fight-or-flight, they sparked and dissipated like the flame of a failing lighter, evidently too distressed to properly utilize his skill.

Was it because he never was really distressed? And thus using it in such an anguished state was something he genuinely needed to practice?

Whatever the case may be, he eventually just gave up, succumbing to her unbidden whims.

‘I thought she said she wouldn’t touch me if I didn’t want to?’ The thought left him hollow.

People weren’t to be trusted. This was going to happen whether he avoided her or not. But why did he let himself cry in front of her? He’d betrayed himself for nothing.

A few monotone-sounding, dead sobs escaped his mouth.

He should probably keep it shut if he wants nothing inside of it.

Why did she continue to hold him even when it was perfectly clear he wasn’t enjoying it? Wasn’t she supposed to be the “caring” one?

No matter her intentions, it didn’t make it feel any better.

With the crashing of the thunder came the flashing and burning of the lightning, and soon he was too empty, too betrayed despite having always expected it, and had been much too sapped to cry.

She could do whatever she wanted with him. He was done.

#soul eater #franken stein #stein #stein soul eater #dr stein #spirit albarn #marie mjolnir #spirit soul eater #takeyourcyanide #soul eater fanfic #soul eater fanfiction #my fanfic #my fanfiction #Spotify

[kujirara]

Ok fuck it I'm gonna put this rant on my main blog

I fuckin hate how people define a lot of sexualities as the lack of attraction to a certian group.

I know this sounds like the same argument a lot of Aphobes use but HEAR ME THE FUCK OUT

Sexualities are about WHO YOU ARE attracted to, NOT WHO YOU ARE NOT attracted to. A lesbian is a woman who is romantically and/or sexually attracted to other women. A gay is a man who is romantically and/or sexually attracted to other men. Pan/Bi/Omni/etc are attracted to more than one gender, including their own most of the time. Until here we are agreeing, correct?

Yeah. Thing is, a shit ton of people try to use distorted definitions of the above sexualities, ESPECIALLY the monosexualities (gay/straight/lesbian) to say that they are not about who you are attracted to, but who you are mot attracted to. Lesbians are women who are not attracted to men. Gays are men who are not attracted to women. Straight people are only attracted to the opposite gender and not to the same. WRONG. SO MOTHERFUCKING WRONG.

Sure, a lot of lesbians feel no attraction towards men and a lot of gays feel no attraction towards women. THAT IS NOT ABSOLUTE, AND SHOULDN'T BE TREATED AS SUCH. You are a woman who likes men but also loves and prefers other women? Or hell, just prefers feminine presenting people in general? Yeah you can be a lesbian. You are a man who likes women, but prefers men and masculine presenting people? Yeah you can call yourself gay.

"Oh that's just bisexuality" yeah it can be. It can be Omnisexuality as well. And it can not be. If someone feels like describing themselves with a monosexual label even though they're not 100% monosexual, GOOD ON THEM. Calling them something they are not - on this case, bisexual - IS DISRESPECTFUL most of the times.

Mind you, a bunch of people who argue the above are usually, intentionally or not, transphobic as well. "Lesbians hate dick" wrong a lot of lesbians have trans girlfriends. "Gays hate pussy" wrong a lot of gays have trans boyfriends.

What I'm trying to say is: LET PEOPLE BE THEMSELVES, AND BE YOURSELF. DON'T LET THE VIEW OF OTHERS ON SOMETHING LIMIT HOW YOU EXPERIENCE THIS THING.

Also I'm a Lesbian. This is a coming out post. Surprise surprise.

And yes, I still like men. I just prefer women enough to call myself a lesbian. You don't have to understand.

#lesbian #trans #lgbt #identity #lgbtq+ #rant #bea's silly little diary #gay #monossexuality #bisexuality #do I have to tag every sexuality I mentioned? #omnisexual

[reikunrei]

No, this is having a mature, thoughtful, and non-puritanical mindset about sex and teenage sexuality behavior.

I don’t understand why you’re trying so hard to get me to change my mind when all I’ve said is I think it’s weird and it makes me uncomfortable to see discussions about child characters having graphic and detailed sex while emphasizing the image of them as children?

the more you try to justify it, the further you implicate yourself, imo

#‘they’re fictional’ ‘the actors are of legal age’ do you understand how this comes off as weird #if you have to bend over backwards to justify sexualizing children then. uh. #folks decided to post this stuff publicly. I have every right to say it’s weird on my personal blog without tagging or directly mentioning #anyone LOL like why are u seeking me out fr. I’m a nobody

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jjk x y/n #toji x y/n #star divider by benkeibear

[dimonds456]

Shoutout to the conventionally attractive people who are so fucking tired. To the attractive people who wish they weren't. To the attractive people who wish they were ugly to get people to stop being creepy around them.

To those who can never be confident in their own skin for more than a few minutes at a time because they know someone's looking.

Shoutout to the people who don't have anxiety, but still would rather live in a completely different body because it meant people would stop staring.

Shoutout to the attractive people who don't want to be.

#okay to reblog #i vent in the tags and it gets bad so content warning for that #dimond speaks #terfs dni #in summation: i talk about stalking; creeps; i mention j*cking off; and just general self-hatred regarding my body #this post is about all genders too not just cis women #i can't be the only one right #like i know i'm conventionally attractive. i fucking hate it. #you're right i do have body issues but it's not because i'm fat it's because i'm fucking pretty #every single tv movie ever has told me that being pretty will solve all my problems. but that's not true at all #it's only ever cause issues for me like getting stalked in more and more progressively creepy ways #to my coworkers assuming that i'm highly sexually active and that i MUST have a partner because why would i not? #it must be soooo easy for me to get a date you're lying there's no way you're a v*rgin #maybe it's the aroace talking here but PLEASE. PLEASE STOP. GO AWAY. #I don't WANT this. I've NEVER wanted this. #do you think i signed up for every single fucking boy in high school to know my name so they could flirt with me? #or to be told by a boy younger than me that he recorded my singing voice so he could- this is real- JACK OFF to it? #or to be stalked by not one not two but THREE creepy old men far past my age? #or to be followed EVERYWHERE i go when i'm outside? #like they typically stop when they notice that i know they're there but STILL. #DOES IT LOOK LIKE I ENJOY THIS IN THE SLIGHTEST? #i'm surprised nothing bad has happened to me yet but it's only a matter of fucking time #and in case you're wondering: no. I do NOT draw myself how i look in real life. #i draw the version of me that I want to be #the version of me that's the weight i wanna be. the flat chest. the flat butt. #no glasses but that's because i usually forget them not because i don't like them fgadhjsk #i wanna look *friendly.* not *hot.* #i'm tired of random customers (usually much much older than me) flirting with me or being generally weird and creepy around me #for the love of whatever god is out there STOP

[aikatoru]

Warnings: Reader discretion is advice!! Contains 18+ content! Cheating, womanizing, mentions of rough sex, anal sex, oral sex, cumming, cunnilingus, boob sucking, vaginal penetration, voyeurism, peeping, outdoor sex, water sex, unprotected sex and creampie.

Tagging: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork @avatarofstars

Dividers credits by @saradika

Notes: This was written on a whim and isn’t proofread 🤭

Please like, comment and reblog!! Thanks 💕

Prince Satoru who is young, handsome and talented! Who is the sole heir to the throne and is destined to take over his father’s kingdom.

Prince Satoru who is a taken man, betrothed to a princess from a far away land that he’s never even heard of, but flirts anyway with the palace maids and guests.

Prince Satoru who is suppose to remain pure till marriage yet has experience the warmth of a woman and the sexual pleasures they have to offer.

Prince Satoru who hits on every beautiful woman who crosses his path and almost always ends up having his way with them.

Prince Satoru who loves rough, dirty and sweaty sex. Who loves licking the sweat of his partner’s skin and loves being told how it was unbecoming of a prince.

Prince Satoru who loves hitting it from the back cause it is so much tighter down there, and ends up cumming buckets.

Prince Satoru who loves suckling on his partner’s breasts, who loves breasts in general, they’re just so soft and nice to squeeze. Doesn’t really care about the size.

Prince Satoru who never forces his partner to go down on him but would never turn away any opportunity for a blowjob. He loves watching his partner choke on his heavy cock, trying so desperately to satisfy him.

Prince Satoru who loves pussy with a passion, he wouldn’t hesitate to go down on his partner. Whose pussy game was spot on, knowing where to slide his tongue in all the right spots and crevices.

Prince Satoru who is famous for his one night stands and a trail of lovers left brokenhearted.

Prince Satoru who gets bored easily, and moves on to his next conquest way too soon.

Prince Satoru who stumbles upon you bathing while he was out hunting in the forest.

Prince Satoru who was captivated by your beauty in your nakedness, who thought that the water was like diamonds clinging onto your skin.

Prince Satoru who decides that he has to have you right there and then.

Prince Satoru who strips and joins you in the water, who was surprised by how you seem unphased.

Prince Satoru who was so enchanted by you that he kisses you bringing you closer to him.

Prince Satoru who can’t keep his hands to himself, touching you any chance he gets, running his hands up and down your curves, before settling on the swell of your ass.

Prince Satoru who couldn’t believe that this beautiful strange woman who moments prior had seem so far away was now bouncing on his cock in the water, throwing her head back, moaning his name and asking him to cum in her.

Prince Satoru who was by in no means unfit, who could usually stay up for hours to go multiple rounds with a woman, usually having them beg him to stop. Yet was struggling to keep his eyes open.

Prince Satoru who was in a state of bliss as he cums for the umpteen time into your dripping pussy, who had you mewling about how hot it was inside.

Prince Satoru who thought nothing of it when he starts to doze off, not seeing the smile on your lips and that evil glint in your eye as you watched the young prince fell into a state of unconsciousness, not realizing the danger that he was in, being in the arms of none other than…a siren.

©Aikatoru writes, I do not give permission to plagiarize, repost or translate any of my content.

#aika writes 🤍 #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #aikatoru blog

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fanfic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

[tojikai]

Sundered 7: TIES

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• Part 1  |  Part 2   | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 …+

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, mentions of sexual assault

word count: 6.0k

And he was happy. But never the happiest.

Naomi couldn’t count how many calls she had made but the wetness in her cheeks is proof of how frustrated she already is. “Please, pick up.” She bit the inner side of her cheeks, tapping her feet on the tiled floor. Naomi regrets what she did. She regretted that she still proceeded despite knowing how wrong it was.

She warned herself not to be greedy at the beginning of their relationship. She remembered telling him they’d take it step by step, not rushing anything because they were determined to make it work. Now that she’s thinking about it, maybe he’s only determined because he wanted to forget about you so badly.

“Mom, please. He threw me out.” Naomi spoke on the phone, tapping her feet as she stood in the middle of her room with her things around her. She took all the things necessary and left. Satoru would probably put everything she left in the trash but that’s the least of her concern right now. She lost everything she had with Satoru and it’s all because of her stupidity.

“What did you expect? You sexually assaulted my son and you want me to help you?” The woman hissed at her. Naomi was naive; thinking that she’ll have her back just because she wanted her for Satoru. “If anything I could even get you arrested—” She began but Naomi was quick to defend herself.

“You’re part of this. Didn’t you basically tell me to use a child to keep your son?!” Tears of anger pooled in her eyes as her hands shook in fear, fury, and heartbreak. Naomi remembered when Satoru’s mom would free her schedule so she could spend time with him and Yui. She would suggest activities and let Naomi tag along and that’s how they started to fall for each other.

Or rather, that’s how she started to fall for him while he just wanted an escape.

“But I never told you to do that to my son! Naomi, do you really think someone would side with you on this?” Every corner of Naomi’s room felt like they were closing in on her, ready to squeeze her till she was nothing but dust. Of course, no one would be with her. No matter what Satoru’s mother told her, she still chose to follow it so the blame’s on her.

“For someone who finished school with flying colors, your mind is dull.” She chuckled, letting Naomi hear all she truly is. “You got a pretty face, you know? That’s another reason why you caught Satoru’s eyes easily.” At that point, Naomi didn’t know if it was still a compliment. She’s pretty and kind, and smart and perfect for him, like she said. But why can’t she have all of him?

“But I’m afraid that pretty face would be useless now. If I were you I’d go start over alone somewhere far.” She clicked her tongue, cutting Naomi’s thoughts off every time she tried to voice them out. “Like, imagine graduating only to get jailed over some dumb, desperate shit? Naomi, you screwed up. And that’s why you lost all chances with my son.”

Naomi shook her head, the warmness of her emotions dampened the smooth skin of her face. “No, you made me…” She breathed out, covering her mouth before running her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t want to do that…No.” She bawled and bawled but the line only went more and more silent.

She fucked up and she’s right. The shame and the loss of self-respect are not something she could live through in this city. She must go, she must leave. Like how they always did when she was a kid; fleeing the scene with her embarrassment of a family who can’t live without humiliating them. They have no decent source of living so they gotta strive.

Now, she’s doing all of it again, all while losing all of it. Again.

“Save yourself. I won’t let them know of your plan. After all, you were once of help to my child. I’m truly sorry.” With that, the call ended; with Naomi sitting on the floor as she put a balled hand over her throbbing chest, and the thought of going away to start as someone new settled in the middle of her head. Naomi learned a lot from all the troubles she went through.

This time, she learned that you could have someone's body but their heart could still be somewhere else.

—-------------------------------------------------

“What is it?” Satoru heard through the phone speaker. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, letting relief flood his veins and calm his shaking flesh. “When are you free?” There was a long pause before Satoru’s father replied, “You know I can make time.” Clearing his throat, Satoru massaged his temples, thanking the heavens that his nightmares weren’t real.

“Let’s meet later if that’s alright.” He whispered, scared that his voice would break. Satoru knows that he is the only link between the relationship of his parents. Just like how his older brother would’ve been the connection his father was hoping to keep his first, real love close. Until they got tired of it all; the matters brought by his mother. And him.

Just like how she drained Satoru out. And right now he just wanted to run away from her too.

“Of course, just send me the exact time.” Satoru nodded as if his father could see him, “Are you alright?” He asked after a few seconds as if sensing the trouble from his son’s voice. “Yeah, much better now, at least.” Satoru rubbed his eyes as he shook his head, eyeing the negative results of the vaginal swab test. “Dad, Mom can’t know.”

He’s almost sure that the request would prompt questions from his father, knowing that he’s aware of how close he is to his Mom. But he was surprised when he simply agreed, murmuring an “Okay.” before letting his son end the call. Satoru pictured him on his office chair as he nodded away, brows furrowed with worry like he always is when it comes to family matters.

When Satoru was a child, his nanny would tell him that his father wasn’t always so workaholic when his ex-wife was still there, co-parenting with him. After she ran away and left, his father started to immerse himself in work more. He knows that he tried with his mother since they were already there and married. But it was just never the same.

His father was happy with them. But he could never be the happiest again.

Leaning back on the chair, he put a hand over his eyes and let his frustrations stream down his cheeks. He let out a shaky sigh, grabbing the papers before looking at them in a brighter light. It’s negative. Nothing happened. You woke him up just in time. He tapped on Naomi’s contact, quickly typing his last message before attaching a photo of the results.

‘I’m mailing the rest of your things tomorrow.’ It only took a minute for her to respond with an apology but Satoru doesn’t care anymore to read it. He blocked the number as soon as he made sure that she received and read the message. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her.

He knows he is wrong for not telling her about his feelings as soon as he can. But that doesn’t equal what she did to him and what she almost got them into. Satoru checked the clock before sending the time to his father, hoping to end all of this mess before the mess ended him.

His mother has been calling him nonstop, and he always had to pretend that he was not home during the previous days. He stayed in watching movies with his little girl, sending you videos and pictures every now and then. He slept in her room during those days, a desperate attempt to calm his brain down. His head hurts from overthinking.

Putting the papers back into the envelope, Satoru took it with him to his room. He made sure to put it in his bedside drawer, just in case some other shit comes up. If this happened before, he’d probably think that Naomi is not that kind of person. But after what she did to him, all of the trust and admiration she has for her went to waste.

Changing into something more comfortable, Satoru tried to take a quick nap. He doesn’t want to look this tired when he meets his father. He’d probably convince him to get a general checkup just to make sure that nothing was wrong. Satoru knows that if it weren’t for him, his father wouldn’t ever put up with his mom. He’d probably spend his whole life searching for his ex-wife.

A few hours of nap felt like nothing because when Satoru woke up, he still felt tired. The only difference is his heartbeat doesn’t sound like it’s trying to come out of his chest anymore unlike when he was waiting for the results. A little progress is still progress; just like how he’s trying to make it all up to you.

If Satoru’s being honest, he’d fall down to his knees and beg you to take him back if you asked him to do it. The only thing stopping him is his brain telling him how happy you are right now and how he wouldn’t want to destroy that. He can’t force himself to stop thinking about you but he can force himself to move on if it’s for you.

Satoru leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, reading a text from his father saying that he was on his way. Another text was from you; it was a picture of Yui holding up a coloring book and a crayon. He was just with her earlier but he misses her already. He wondered if he could visit when he doesn’t have other things to do even if it’s not his schedule yet.

Sending a response with a small smile on his face, Satoru heard the doorbell ring, signaling his father’s arrival. He peeked through the spaces of his window curtains to ensure that it was him before opening the door. Satoru’s still unsure of what he’ll say but he hopes that his father can give him a better solution.

Satoru thought that if he ever cut ties with his mother, it’d be for you and Yui’s safety. He didn’t think that it’d be for him too. “Dad,” He gave his father a hug as he stepped in, following his son as they walked to his house. “What’s going on?” He asked as soon as Satoru closed the door. They walked to the kitchen, settling on one of the barstools.

“It’s because of mom…” He began, placing a glass pitcher atop the counter.

—---------------------------------------

“Smile~ We’ll send this to Dada.” You cooed, pointing at the camera as you tried to take a picture of your daughter. At first, she didn’t want to do it, wanting nothing but to play with her book and crayons but when she heard that her Dad wanted to know about it, she got real creative with the pose. “You don’t listen to Mama, anymore.” You pouted at her as you hit send.

She scrunched her nose, sticking out her tongue at you before picking on her colors. You still can’t forget how dead Satoru looked when he dropped Yui off. You wondered what he talked about with his mother that caused him to be like that. Even with the soft tone of his voice, you could hear roughness that probably came from the lack of sleep.

If it concerns you, then you definitely have to know. His mother probably said something bad about you, but you doubt that it’s affecting Satoru by how he was talking and looking at you. He just looked so done with all of it, but even so, there was still a tender look in his eyes when they met yours.

You sighed while looking at your phone as you waited for a text from Toji. He’s been so busy with work lately, you’re just glad that you already talked about your problems. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well had it stayed unsaid for a couple more days. It wasn’t completely back to normal, but at least, you’re both trying to make it better for each other.

“I would try,” He whispered to your ear as he hugged you from behind, “I can’t promise not to think of her–“ You turned around, looking up at him with a solemn look in your eyes, “I’m not asking you to not think of her, that’d be selfish of me.” He nodded, kissing your forehead, “Alright, what I mean is, I won’t make any comparisons.” You hummed.

“I need you to stop worrying about Satoru and I.” You put your head on his chest, “I know it’s easier said than done, but I just want you to know that I am with you.” Your fingers traced figured on his skin, “I’m keeping that in mind.” He placed his cheek on top of your head, sighing deeply as he let go of you.

“I’m taking Megumi to my Mom’s.” He pushed your hair back with his fingers, making your eyes flutter close as you felt his face get closer to yours and his breath ghosting on your lips. “I’ll see you later.” He pecked your lips, “Take care, I love you.” He murmured as he gave you a long kiss, before turning to get their stuff.

One thing that you notice about Toji is that he never waits for you to say anything back. You don’t want to take the words lightly, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the same way as him. You still have a long way to go, and you don’t want to rush anything. When you mention it to him, he just says that he needs you to hear it.

“Mama, look!” Your daughter pulled you out of your head as she showed you a picture of a cat, “Dada buy Yui.” You looked closely at the picture, laughing as you realized that she was talking about the cake that they ate. “Yeah, you're right! That's what Dada bought you!.” You patted her head as she giggled.

“Yui, baby. Did meemaw come to see you?” You held her small hands, trying to keep her attention to you. “No. No meemaw.” She pulled at your hair gently, trying to color it with her crayons. “What about…what about Naomi?” You can’t help but chuckle as she pretended to think, eyes looking up as she pouted her lip.

“No Naomi!” Her answer gave you a bit of an insight. You would assume that maybe she was just busy, but hearing about how Satoru’s mother reduced her workload made you doubt it. Satoru sent you tons of pictures during his time with her but you thought that Naomi just wasn’t in the frame.

If the ‘talk’ between her and Satoru didn’t end well, you could only assume that he already told her about it. He’s probably down because he wouldn’t want to hurt her like that. With all the progress Satoru has made, you doubt that he’d be so happy to have broken a heart. She was still once a friend to him.

A heavy feeling settles in the middle of your chest, like an anchor weighing your heart down, thinking about how his mother would probably find a reason to drag you for it. But if that’s the case, you’re sure that Satoru wouldn’t let harm come to you.

With how gentle Naomi was, you couldn’t think of a worse thing to happen.

——————————————

“What did she do this time?” His father looked away, clicking his tongue. If one would ask Satoru, his parents would’ve probably divorced years ago if it weren’t for him. His father knows how he is with his mother, and the thought of giving him a hard time switching between the two of them pained him.

Satoru wished that he thought about it too before he decided to go and selfishly start over with someone else. Your words the night he confessed to you echoed in his head. He came to a realization that you probably wanted to ask him to come back but held yourself back as he let you know how happy he was with Naomi.

And he was happy. But just like his father, he was never the happiest.

“I don’t really know how to open this up to you…” He bit his lip, “…But I just want this to be over, Dad.” Satoru felt so vulnerable at that moment. The only time he had a talk this serious with his Dad was when he found out about your pregnancy. It was just more of a news, unlike right now, which is a call for help.

“Naomi…Mom and Naomi talked about…” His father’s eyes coaxed him as if sensing his distress. “Naomi tried to…” Shaking his head, Satoru breathed out. “Naomi wanted to conceive. Because our relationship was falling apart.” He can see his Dad’s brows pull together to a scowl, probably getting a hint of what happened.

“She talked to Mom about it and she…” The man sat up straight, bouncing his leg like he already knew what his wife did. “She said Mom brought up the thing about how you and him got together.”It was hard to talk about this to his father, knowing how sensitive it can be for him. “Naomi told me about it. I recorded it, just in case—”

“Satoru, what did your girlfriend do?” Satoru looked down, fingers fidgeting like he was a kid again. “And your mother’s involved? What happened?” Rubbing his face, Satoru threw away all his fears. If he’s not going to fix these problems, then who will? “She got me drunk, and then she tried to sleep with me.” He blinked fast, watching his father’s face.

“I heard her talking to Mom on the phone, and I took it from her. That’s how I found out that she played a part in all of it.” It was hard for him to accept. The person he used to protect, the one he always tried to understand was the same person who betrayed and put him in this position; the position that also made his father the person he is today.

Another long silence surrounded them. His father’s hand was balled into a fist, covering his mouth as he blankly stared at the marble surface. “Where’s Naomi?” His father pulled out his phone, and Satoru could tell just what he was about to do. “I don’t know. I’m sending her things away. I’m cutting her off. I’m filing a protective order against her and mom–“

Satoru didn’t get to finish his sentence before his father spoke again, probably finally taking in the information he just provided him. “I’m divorcing your mother.” His mouth fell half-open. His voice was low, serious, and full of all the grief that he’s been feeling for years ever since he lost his first wife and son. “And I’m sending that woman to jail.” He added, raising a finger.

“There’s…I don’t want that.” He breathed out, earning a questioning look from his dad. “You don’t have to send her to jail. I…I messed up if I just told her that I still have feelings for Y/N, then she wouldn’t have resorted to that. She wouldn’t have talked to Mom and this wouldn’t have happened.” He stood up, leaning on the counter as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Satoru thought about it too when he caught her in the act. But after some reflection, he realized his shortcomings, his mistake of not just telling her about what was really going on. Even though there was no excuse for what she did, Satoru can’t help but feel like he’s the one who caused all of this to happen. And he probably really is; a victim of his foolish choices.

“But other than that, I don’t want Y/N and Yui to be caught up in this. I don’t want to expose them to this kind of problem, they’ve been through so much because of me already. I just want to do better this time.” Thinking about dragging you into another mess made Satoru feel weak. He promised to make it up to you, and he’d do anything to prove that.

His father put his phone down on the table, taking in a deep breath just to calm himself. “But you’re not stopping me from divorcing your mother.” Satoru doesn’t know if it’s right to agree to that. It felt like he was encouraging the separation of his parents; celebrating his mother’s heartbreak.

But his father’s been suffering heartbreak for years. It’s only fair to set him free.

“It’s up to you. I…” Satoru shook his head, sure of the decision he was about to make. “...I don’t think I can just forgive and forget what she did. It’s not something small, and I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.” His eyes itched, ready to let his tears go any minute. “I don’t even know if I still want to be associated with her.” He turned away, sighing as he blinked away his pain.

When he and Naomi went for the examination, he made her spill all the details regarding the said conversation with his mother. It took everything in him not to fly into a rage while breaking down as he heard of it. All this time, his mother saw him as a pawn to keep his father, regardless of whose life she was tearing down; Satoru’s, his father's ex-wife, and his first son.

“I wanted to take you away when you were a kid.” His father admitted, looking ahead as he reminisced of the decisions he made. “I wanted to just take you and raise you with your brother. Of course, with the hopes of getting my ex-wife back.” He leaned back, tapping on the screen of his phone. The bitter tone in his voice can’t be missed.

“That was my plan when I found out about you. But when you were about a year and a half old, she disappeared. All I knew was she was…tired; drained of all the chaos that our son and her were exposed to. What with having to co-parent with me as I was with your mother.” His eyes played the emotions he chose to hide away many years ago.

“I know you know about this. She and I got divorced. I thought it was over for us, I thought I made the right decision to turn away and try another start. And I was dating your mother. Then we had you.” His arms were crossed and Satoru could almost see the similarities between his feelings to how he used to feel about yours and his relationship.

“Then, realization came running for me; haunting me in my sleep. I was ready to get her back again, but it was too late. She was already gone.” Satoru absently poured water for his Dad, listening intently to his story. “So, I felt like the only thing to do was to marry your Mom. I reminded myself that still have you, I can’t just spiral down.” He smiled at Satoru.

“I tried to convince, tried to brainwash myself that it’d be fine. That I could learn to love her and I did. Just not the kind of love that lovers have.” If his mother could hear his Dad right now, she’d get shattered. Satoru doesn’t want to see that, but she would have to. She has to understand that she’s putting this man through.

“I loved her because she loves me; because she cares for you and me.” Leaning over to pick up his glass, he looked his son in the eyes. “But true love is unconditional, Satoru. It should not have a reason.” He took a sip, pursing his lips before continuing. “Reasons might vanish, and when it does, so will the love you feel for that person.”

In the middle of it all, Satoru could only think of you. Why does he love you? When did he realize that he loves you? How did it happen? He doesn’t have an answer for it. He cannot find a reason for it. He doesn’t remember loving you just because you put up with him, he doesn’t remember falling for you just because of the life you created together.

All that he knows is that one day, he woke up and he already knew that he was in love with you. Like he’s been doing it for years; like that’s all he’s ever known.

—-------------------------------------------------

“I’ll keep in contact with you regarding the proceedings.” Satoru’s father spoke on the phone, stepping inside his mansion and smiling at his helpers. He asked Satoru if he wanted to have a word with his mother but the thought of having to look at her after what she tried to make his ex-girlfriend do makes him feel dizzy.

“Honey, you’re home.” The woman tried to welcome him with a kiss and open arms but he quickly turned his head, rejecting her. “Come up to my office, we got something to talk about.” The mask of a loving wife was quickly covered with fear and dread.

“What about in our room? So, you can rest.” She nodded her head once, trying to coax him but he was tired of closing his eyes and numbing his heart from feeling the pain and regret of having to lose the love of his life for the comfort that this woman offered him before. “In my office. It’s not a small matter that I could sleep on.”

Leaving the woman baffled, he made his way upstairs, not waiting for her to walk beside him. There was a deafening silence in the big room, save from the footsteps of her husband and the door of his office slamming with such force that it sent a crack in her heart.

She took a deep breath and ran her palm on top of her dress, thinking of all the reasons she could give him just to prove her innocence. She didn’t want any of that to happen. She didn't think that Naomi could be so dumb as to come up with such a heinous and unpleasant plan.

That wasn’t even what she did to Satoru’s father. It was just working to keep them together. And that’s why Satoru came.

With her found determination, she held her head high. Swallowing the terror rising up her throat as she let her thoughts convince her that she did nothing wrong. She never explicitly told Naomi to do that, she’s the one who schemed that. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

She walked up the stairs, caressing the smooth, cold surface of the handrail. Satoru wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He’s her boy, her pride and joy. He’s the only ally she had when his father was openly pushing her away.

Satoru wouldn’t just ruin what she and his father had because of baseless information from his sick girlfriend. Entering the office, the man sat on his swivel chair. Forehead pressed to the heel of his hand. “What is it, dear?” She smiled sweetly at her husband, appearing unaware of what he had in mind.

Oh, how she wished she was just unaware of it all. She wished that she didn't know what the problem was. She wished it wasn’t what she thought it was and that she was just overthinking because of how– “I want a divorce.” Those four words halted the spinning of her world.

“What?” She raised her brows, checking if it was just her mind playing tricks on her and making her hallucinate. “I want a divorce. And I want it as soon as possible.” His eyes no longer held any emotions towards her; no sadness, bitterness, fading love. None. Not even pity.

“Listen, honey, I didn’t think that Naomi would do–“ She took quick steps towards him, hoping to get him to listen. “So, you knew about it?” He glared at her, “You knew about it and you didn’t tell me anything?” He shook his head, and she could only open her mouth.

“Doesn’t matter. Satoru told me everything.” He stood up from his seat, towering over her as he stared her down. “It’s nothing like that–“ She breathed out, panicking. “I’m not really interested in what you told Naomi. I’m just thankful that my son’s safe.” He stepped away from her.

“What I want to do right now, is to be free from this.” It’s over for her. All the alibis that she was composing, thinking of for this moment are useless. He doesn’t need an explanation, this was simply the final push that he needed to kick her out of his life. And probably out of Satoru’s too.

“Please, don’t do this. We’re already too old to–“ She tried to grab his hand and he only grabbed it with the other to put it away. “You’re right. We’re too old, our son’s too old for me to still pretend that we want to be in this position.” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Please, listen. I wouldn’t do something that could harm–“

“I know,” His voice was calm. “Of course, to harm him wasn’t your intention, right?” She nodded eagerly, thinking that he was finally listening to her. “But you wanted to decide for him. You got in between him and Y/N, then pushed this woman on him because you thought you knew best for your son.” Tears fell down her eyes, and she lost all hope.

“Now, look at what you did to him.” He gritted his teeth, stepping forward to get her out of his way. “But this is not just about our son anymore. This is also about me, finally choosing to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Opening the door, he spoke to her one last time. “All you have to do is sign. The actions that your son will take is all up to him.”

With that, he left her with all of the nightmares of their past coming back. How he only wanted the best for his sons, how he wanted to take full custody of Satoru, how he wanted to get back together with his ex-wife, and how he only married her because she was gone. She was never the first option. She was never the original pick.

She wasn’t chosen, she just happened to be already there.

—————————————

“Hey,” You heard Satoru speak as Toji opened the door for him, nodding. This was kind of similar to how they first saw each other but you’re just glad that this time, it’s a lot calmer. Megumi ran to his father, peeking up at Satoru as he waved at him.

“Yui, your Dada’s here.” Toji left the door open to let Satoru in. Megumi was holding onto his pants, staring back at Satoru. “Yui Dada,” He picked his toy up, staring at a distance before walking closer to him. “Blue!” You laughed from the kitchen, as you packed some snacks for the little girl.

Today, you’re going to the zoo as Yui requested. The animal drawings from her coloring book got her asking you to call her Dada late at night, just to babble about it. “He’s referring to your eyes,” Toji spoke as he went back to the living room to pick up some of the toys.

“Megumi, it’s not good to point at people, what did I tell you?” He warned the toddler as he went back to your room, eyes meeting yours as you made your way to Yui's room. “Ah, yes. Yui and I have the same eyes.” Satoru smiled at the child.

“Dada!” Yui ran towards him, stomping her shoes extra hard to show him how they light up with dancing colors. “Woah! Did Mama buy you those shoes?” He opened his arms, urging the little girl to run to him and she happily did, giggling as she nodded. “It’s awesome!” You smiled at how he tried to flatter his child, encouraging her to do a little jump.

“Where are we going today?” You asked her in a playful tone as you put the lunch bags on the coffee table in front of them. “Zoo!” You watched a Satoru give her a sincere smile, patting her hair gently while complimenting her little butterfly clips. “I’m sure Megumi’s been to the zoo before.” He poked the little boy's tummy.

“Yeah. Animals. Bears and lions.” He stood behind you, peeking at Satoru as he talked. Megumi isn’t usually shy, but he doesn’t easily warm up to people. “We went there on his second birthday.” You almost jumped at Toji’s voice behind you as he picked up his child. “He’s a smart kid.” Satoru answered with a friendly smile.

“You guys should come. If you want..” It surprised you that he was initiating something like that. Although, you know that Toji wouldn’t be so comfortable with that and would most likely reject the offer, it’s still nice to see that Satoru’s trying to make an effort to get along with him.

“That’d be nice but his grandma's waiting for him,” Toji answered, chuckling awkwardly. “Dada work,” Megumi added, earning a hum from his Dad. Making sure that the bag is packed with everything Yui needs, you zipped it up. “You ready to go now?” You tapped the toddler’s cheek, feeling Satoru’s gaze at you.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Standing up with his daughter in his arms, he took the bag from your hands. He put the toddler down to hug her friend goodbye, before walking hand in hand with her outside. You laughed at how she kept squealing with each step she took, looking up to see her Dad’s reaction.

“You guys have fun, alright? I’ll just lock the doors before we go.” Toji pulled you to him, giving you a kiss. “I’ll be back later.” You put your hand around his neck, standing on your tippy toes before pecking his neck. With that, you walked out the door to join your toddler who was patiently waving at you from her car seat.

“Okay, it’s zoo time!” You wiggled your brows at her as you slammed the door shut, making her giggle. You checked your face in the mirror, trying to ignore Satoru’s soft eyes as he watched you. “How are you?” You tried to start a conversation but it was quickly interrupted as you searched around for your daughter’s binky.

“Maybe we left it inside,” Satoru spoke, opening Yui’s bag to help you find it. “Yui, where did you put it?” Remembering how she placed it on the coffee table as she showed off her outfit to her father, you started to unbuckle your seatbelts but Satoru stopped you. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.” He was already stepping out of the car before you could stop him.

Satoru jogged up your steps, knocking a few times before proceeding to open the door. Toji was just about to open it for him when he entered, “It’s Yui’s pacifier. She left it.” He put on the most polite smile he could muster, wanting nothing but to get rid of the awkwardness between them if they were both going to be in your life.

“Oh, alright. I thought it was someone else.” Toji let out a rather awkward chuckle, not knowing how else to react or what else to say. But just as Satoru uttered ‘thanks’, Toji remembered the thing he’s been thinking of for almost a week now. “Uh, Satoru,” He called, making him pause as he held the door open.

Her brows raised, waiting for him to say something. Toji doesn’t know if you’d be happy about this but it’s better than just letting his feelings, thoughts, and opinions all pile up inside of him. This is for you and Yui. Not just for him.

“I’ve been thinking about our situation with Y/N and… I was wondering if you could set aside a bit of your time for a chat?”

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#angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk #jjk x reader

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Stuck like glue

Request: "I'm going to scream your domestic character joining coop on his travels from her cabin is SO good 😭 I was wondering if you would write something with the same character in her cabin when coop turns up from nearby having taken one too many bullets? Or maybe he's sick and needs some jet. Some hurt/comfort fluffy sweetness" A/N: Thank you to the awesome anon who sent the idea! Maybe not AS fluffy as we wanted, but there's for sure some soft Ghoul going on in here. And, oh yeah, the reader has a dog now. No description of said dog has been given, so please imagine as you'd wish. Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, brief mentions of sexual interaction. Summary: Your favorite Ghoul needs to be patched up after a spat with some Raiders, and you always know just how to make him feel better.

Word Count: 2.0k+

Gif credit to @elisefrost from this set

You’re outside attempting to hang clothes to dry when you hear it. 

The soft but distinct sound of jingling metal comes from behind your cabin. You set one hand on the pistol strapped to your thigh and walk in that direction, eyes peeled for any movement. A bark echoes the sound from your porch, and you snap at your four-legged companion in an attempt to get him to stay. 

“Tiger!” You hiss. “Quit!”

 He relents with an indignant huff and returns to the porch, while the metallic noise keeps up in a steady pattern, akin to the cadence of a slow walk. You tilt your head at the thought and eventually move the hand off your pistol; only one person would dare tread this close in broad daylight with such carelessness.

“Coop?”

You don’t see him anywhere, but you’re almost certain it was the sounds of his old spurs that caught your attention. 

“Cooper if you’re tryna scare me, you know I'll gut you.” The threat is an empty one, but saying it gives you some hope that it’s indeed him and not a Raider or Slaver looking to score some loot. 

“No need, babydoll.” His voice sounds ragged, tired. “Don’t think I could scare a bunny rabbit at the moment.” 

You follow his voice to your left, and find the Ghoul leaned up against a tree. He’s practically swaying in the breeze, very apparently unsteady. You rush over just as he slides down and collides with the dirt.. 

“Cooper! What happened to you?” 

Your hands flutter up and down his arms, brusquely checking for any injuries. Nothing obvious jumps out at you, but he heals fast and external wounds are rare. A wheeze claws its way up his throat and morphs into a hacking cough. You recognize the sound as the need for a Vial, and grab at his bag. 

“Do you have any on you?” 

A stuttered cough answers. “Fresh out… s’why I came here.”

Your stash of Vials had been growing just about as long as you’d known Cooper. When you traveled together, he’d hand some off to you for safekeeping, and there always ended up being extras. Upon your return home, he’d tell you to keep them. It wasn’t shocking, given that he found his way back every couple of days.

“Alright, come on.” You crouch down and position yourself beneath Cooper’s arm. 

You can tell he’s weak by the way he leans into you, knees wobbling relentlessly as you pull him up. Another round of coughing wracks his body and you squeeze him reassuringly. 

“Couch isn’t far.” You chose your words carefully, avoiding any inkling of pity. Having an already deteriorating Ghoul is enough, let alone a defensive one who hates being pitied. 

Cooper does his best to keep up with your steps, but his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated. You can feel the heat radiating off of him through his jacket and hear him wheezing beside your ear. Stepping onto the porch gives him some trouble, but you manage to haul him up and inside the door. Tiger whines nervously, circling the pair of you as you trek inside. The Ghoul collapses onto the couch as soon as it’s within reach. 

After making sure Cooper’s not going to slide off the couch, you continue to the med-kit in your makeshift kitchen. The Vials are hidden at the very bottom, wrapped in cloth for extra cushion to prevent shattering. You decide there’s more than enough for him to take two, and carefully extract the mysterious chem. 

Cooper’s laid out on his back when you return with the Vials. One arm is thrown over his eyes and the other dangling off the side of the couch with Tiger perched beneath. The dog nuzzles his favorite person’s hand for attention, and it elicits a chuckle from you. Even as the only conscious person in the room, you were still second in Tiger’s eyes. 

“Coop.” You shake his shoulder gently. “Hey. Hey. Where’s your inhaler?”

You nudge his hat away and he blinks slowly. “Mmm.”

“Ok then.” You mutter and pat down his jacket, searching for the contraption he always carries. The coat yields no results, and you pat down his pants until you feel it tucked away into the pocket at his hip. “Finally.”

Cooper shuffles ever so slightly when you slip your hand into his pocket. “H-hey now. I know you love me, baby, but I-I ain’t got it in me right now.”

An errant smile pushes its way onto your lips. You snap the meds into place on his inhaler 

“Open up.”

He fails to heed your instructions, and you ultimately end up forcing the inhalant into his mouth. It never works instantly, but within a minute or so of administering it there’s movement. One of Cooper’s hands lifts to cup yours, puffing on the inhaler again. 

You release your hold on it and rock back onto the balls of your feet. It’s then you take note of the holes in his clothing, and run a hand down his chest. There’s numerous holes, some as big as your finger and others no larger than a pinhead. 

“Cooper, what happened to you?” You sit on the edge of the couch beside him as he takes his first deep breath without Chems. 

“I just turn’d in a bounty and some Raiders jumped me.” He looks down at your hand on his chest. “Bastards shot me ten or eleven times. Damn buckshot got me good.”

You nod. “I can tell. You were in a bad way, Coop.”

The Ghoul sits up slowly beside you so his legs can swing off the couch. “I’ll be good as new, soon as this stuff starts workin’ good.” 

Tiger hops up on the couch next to him, tail wagging with excitement. The dog licks your cheek on his way to Cooper and pushes his nose into the Ghoul’s shoulder. You chuckle at the interaction, patting the dog’s shoulders. Coopers are still hunched with exhaustion, and his deep-set eyes look even more so. 

“Well until they do, you rest.” You stand, glancing out the still-ajar door. “It’s getting dark anyway.”

Cooper, as usual, opens his mouth to protest. If there’s anything he hates, it’s feeling useless. 

“No arguments.” You point a finger at him. “I mean it.”

He grumbles, but relents. “Fine. Only if you turn somethin’ on that ol’ TV of yours.”

The television turns out to be a perfect method of relaxation. You have to remove Cooper from the couch temporarily, but wrestle it into the pullout bed form and line it with blankets. The Ghoul had given in to his exhaustion rather easily at the prospect of a comfortable bed and kicked off his boots to climb all the way in. You hung his coat on a nail by the door, but made sure to leave his guns, lasso, and assorted weapons within arm’s reach. The TV played some old soap opera from before your time while you snagged a couple of hard candies- a luxury item, as the nearest settlement called them- and made to settle in. 

Cooper had managed to prop himself against the back of the couch, feet kicked out down the length of the thin mattress. Tiger, seeking attention as per usual, is curled up against his right leg. A wet nose rests just beneath Cooper’s knee and twitches in interest when you unwrap the first candy. 

The Ghoul might as well be a dog himself for the way his ears perk at the sound of a wrapper. 

He watches intently as you very gracefully clamber to sit next to him. You pop the fruit-flavored candy in your mouth and scoot around until you find comfort. In this case, it’s leaned up against the Ghoul beside you, head dropping onto his shoulder. His breathing is still shallower than you’d like, but a vast improvement from where it was when he’d shown up. 

“You ain’t gonna share?” 

You open your fist and offer up one of the candies. “I suppose I could. But only for you.”

A smirk twists the corners of his scarred lips. You poke at the candies and attempt to read the labels to no avail. 

“I’d offer you a choice of flavor, but…” You shrug, looking back up to your Ghoul. “Slim pickings.”

He lifts a bare hand to your chin, tilting up. “I think the pickin’s are just fine.”

You smile and lean in to meet him, lips falling into a familiar dance.The hand on your chin slides down to grip your nape and holds you firmly in place. It’s not long before the candy is gone from your mouth. Its remnants remain, mingling with the taste of gunpowder and smoke. A few moments pass before you decide to separate

“Miss me much?” You inquire, cuddling yourself down into his side. 

His arm raises to accommodate your body and lowers it back down to encircle your shoulders once you’re settled. “I always miss you darlin’. For a variety of reasons.”

You hum softly, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Cooper’s hand trails up and down your arm, leaving wide trails of gooseflesh. “Well, the main one happens to be the lack of entertainment.”

You scoff. “I’m your entertainment?”

“Fuck yeah, you are. ‘Specially when you’re hollerin’ at scavengers and shootin’ anything that moves.” The Ghoul chuckles to himself. “Or trippin’ over a sleeping yao guai.”

You shove him playfully. “That was one time, and I shot it dead anyway.”

Cooper pulls you towards him, and you shift until you’re between his legs, back pressed against his chest. “That you did, sweetheart. I ain’t forgot.”

He grabs the nearest blanket and tosses it over your entangled bodies. You curl to the side and rest your cheek to his chest. Tiger shuffles his body with a huff, apparently frustrated with the lack of attention.

“What would you do without me?” You tap his chest gently, relishing in the warmth he produces. “Other than get eaten by a yao guai?”

The Ghoul scratches Tiger’s head. “Prolly go feral. Chase around some folk to scare em’.”

You know he’s joking, but the thought of losing him to ferality scares you to no end. Particularly since he’s just shown up on death’s door and almost hacked a lung onto your floor.

“Don’t say that.” You lift your head to catch his eye. “Please.”

Cooper may be a gruff old Ghoul with a dreadful outlook on the world, but he softens ever so slightly at your words.

“You know I don’t mean it, sugar. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Two scarred fingers hook beneath your jaw and pull you back up to his lips. It’s tame at first, but the Cooper you know wastes no time making an appearance. His teeth nip at your lip gently and one rough hand slides up your side until it cups your breast. You press into him eagerly, climbing upwards until your thighs slot around either side of his hips. He responds by grinding them into you, delicious friction warming you from head to toe.  

Tiger decides he’s disgusted at this point, and hops off the couch with a comical groan.

Unbothered, one of your hands latches onto the lasso that is tossed on top of his pile of weapons. You loop it around his neck, gripping either side of the rope and pulling him in. Cooper smirks against your mouth. 

“Oh I love being stuck with you, Cowpoke.” You whisper against his mouth, earning yourself a quick bite to the bottom lip.

The Ghoul grins and quickly shows how much strength he’s regained by reversing your positions. He snatches the rope faster than you can react, and wraps the fingers of one hand loosely around the column of your throat. There’s just enough pressure to shoot a pang of arousal between your legs. Cooper knows you’re squirming, and presses a knee there to relieve some of the ache. 

“Glad t’hear it.” He murmurs into your neck, “‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-------------------

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

#Cooper Howard #Cooper Howard x You #Ghoul x Reader #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #The Ghoul x Reader #the Ghoul x you #cooper howard x oc #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #walton goggins #fallout fiends #possessive!cooper howard #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #ghouls deserve love too

[lunarduty]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀

☾ definition: dacryphilia refers to sexual pleasure or arousal from seeing tears or hearing the sounds of crying. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES X F!READER TAGS | nsfw, smut, crying, mention of a safe word, f!dom, overstimulation, orgasm denial WC | 3,099

JOHN PRICE

… sees you cry and praises.

if john could see your eyes right now, he’d tell you not to be embarrassed. would probably coo at you like a prized horse. ask you what was wrong, and if there was anything he could do to help.

problem was, you weren’t sure what it was you were crying over - the bite of wood against your skin, or john’s tongue between your thighs.

both were agonizing in their own ways. both BURNED with something that hurt too good to admit. both demanded your attention, but as always, john eventually won the fight for it. the tiny little scrapes and bumps caused by the old wood of his desk had started to numb when the tears came. john’s fingers pushing into your cunt acted as a sort of balm. you couldn’t feel anything but him.

his broad shoulders had kept your legs spread for far too long at this point, so they eventually began to ache too. they tremble and quake around john’s shoulders. you know he feels it, and thinks it’s because of his tongue and fingers.

he’s not far from the truth.

and just as soon as john’s eyes shoot up, you’re throwing your head back. eyes squeezing shut, shuddering breath disguised behind a moan, hoping to just cum on his mouth and he doesn’t have to know he caused the tears that seem to burn your eyes. he’s kept you on the edge for so long, it wouldn’t be hard to simply focus on his tongue and let go.

there’s a burn behind your eyelids. more tears form when his fingers curl and his tongue flicks a certain way.

“john,” you breathe out, ending his name with a pant. “it’s… i-”

“look at me, love.”

it was an order. plain and clear. your head snaps up immediately, finding his half-illuminated eyes in the lowlight of his office. dark hair looking raven black, eyes blown up to match - but even then, you see them LIGHT up with amusement. even in shitty lighting, john catches the glimmer of tears. right on the edge of falling down your pretty cheeks - you probably don’t even notice. it only makes him harder.

he laughs in a low rumble. “so fucking pretty, aren’tcha?”

you nod; panting, writhing, crying.

john leans his head in closer, pushing in his fingers as far as they’ll go. “pretty girl gonna cum for me? all sweet and tight around my fingers? keep watching me, love - gonna cum now? yeah, go right ahead, dove. you more than DESERVE it.”

the orgasm hits like a truck when john grinds his tongue against your clit. just before your eyes squeeze shut again, a tear finally breaks free and glides down your cheek - warm and flushed from a climax that he’s sure someone must’ve heard.

john has always promised he’d never make you cry, but this is a damn good exception.

☾

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

… sees you cry and dotes.

gaz has always gone on and on about how much he wants to keep you separate from his work. to leave all the roughness behind when he’s with you. it was never really a problem until tonight - sweet and gentle and slow to a fault. 

too sweet. too gentle. too slow. 

kyle is careful to keep a STEADY pace - a careful rock of his hips, lightly grinding against yours when he’s pressed in deep, making you feel each and every inch of him before gradually pulling out to do when same thing over again. and you know he doesn’t do things without an express purpose - after extending your orgasm a few times, it’s safe to say that your safety isn’t the top priority for once.

he hasn’t gone much faster than this languid pace. selfishly listening to your stunted breaths and pained whimpers of his name. 

if you ask him to go faster, gaz slows down. if you beg for something harder, he smiles and kisses you and tells you to be patient. 

but what has all this patience gotten you? two incredibly drawn out orgasms that fucking ACHED when they hit and kyle stubbornly keeping his thrusts slow and torturous under his guise of being gentle. it’s all a little too much. too intense. your eyes squeeze shut, face nestled against kyle’s neck, hips shifting up when he buries his cock in to try and grind out another orgasm. 

unfortunately, gaz knows you. knows your movements and knows your sounds - the shortening of your breaths and desperate whimpers and choked moans and… sniffles?

his pulls his head up immediately, eyes narrowing in on the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. and gaz grins - he can’t help against it. his cock pulses when a finger comes up to brush a tear away before it has a chance to fall down your face.

“poor baby,” he coos. if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve noticed how tight his voice sounds. “it’s alright. doing so well for me. gonna make you cum again, don’t you worry. just hang in there, yeah?” his words are breathed against your lips, and by some miracle, gaz picks up the pace. hips picking up speed, even rocking a little stronger and it isn’t until you heard the slap of skin do you truly realize how SOAKED he got you.

the initial tears were caused by kyle’s torturous pace. a new set follows the old when he finally fucks you properly. gaz doesn’t mind - he likes wiping them away.

☾

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

… sees you cry and teases.

“why’re you crying, bonnie? did you hurt your feelings or something?”

soap knows you won’t respond. not that you could.

the pace of his thrusts are too rough. too quick. too deep. using all his weight to slam into you again and again, not letting up for a moment. the worst part is, you know he has the stamina to keep going, even if you beg him to slow down. to let you breathe air that doesn’t taste like him.

your nails dig into the skin of soap’s chest as you shake your head. everything ached in a delicious way but it wasn’t your feelings that were hurt. soap moves his hand from his bruising grip on your hips to clasp around your jaw, shifting your head to look him straight on. he wants you looking at him, even through WATERY eyes. 

soap grunts as he shifts into a better position to fuck you in. his hair is mussed from your fingers. skin blotchy and flushed from exertion. he still grins at you. “then why’re you crying? want me to stop? is that it?”

“no!” you cry out - half a moan and half a shout.

a thoughtful hum vibrates against his ribs as soap’s fingers release your jaw, only to come up and wipe away a tear that leaked from the corner of your eye. “ahh, i get it, lass,” he breathes out, continuing his rough thrusts with a deep groan. “you’re cryin’ so pretty ‘cause you like getting fucked so good. am i right? my girl loves getting fucked ‘till she cries?”

you’re silent. eyes falling shut, mouth agape, head tilting back to ignore soap’s teases and just feel the addicting slide of his cock. he slows his thrusts only to grind against your pelvis and it’s such a massive difference in sensation that you nearly cum on the spot. it works to make you cry out his name.

“fuck- johnny!” and you do. so, so prettily.

☾

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

… sees you cry and worries.

simon’s face still hurt - a spot right over his cheekbone, purple and swollen and it aches almost enough to make him forget about how sore the rest of his body is.

it’s easy enough to ignore. it’s not liquor or ibuprofen that dulls the pain. his old methods of healing after a rough mission seem useless in the wake of pressing you back on the couch. it’s the touch of your skin, the smell of your hair, the noises you make that really pull him back together. you’re careful not to tug at him too hard or touch any of his TENDER aches, even when he begs you to.

yeah. it’s easy for simon to forget how close he was to not be here fucking you.

his fingers dig into the armrest of the couch, forcing his throbbing body to move as fast as he wants it to. an impromptu fuck on the couch wasn’t exactly planned tonight - you went on and on about how much you wanted to take care of him. but you’ve been clinging to him all night. never letting him out of your sight. it was just a natural progression and simon sure as shit wasn’t complaining.

“fuck, lovie,” he groans out slowly. if you keep moving your hips like that, he’s not gonna last much longer.

and fuck, simon was so close, he could taste it. feel it building in the base of his spine and how tight his stomach gets and it all makes it a little easier to forgo his aches to simply drive into you again and again. your arms wrap around his torso, brushing against tender ribs - when simon hisses, he’s unsure if it’s the pain or the sudden tightness around his cock when you jolt. simon’s mind goes blank and he’s just so fucking close and…

you make a new noise. unfamiliar to the ones simon has memorized when he’s fucking you. his eyes are HAZY and unfocused when he looks at you, and he didn’t quite know what he expected to find. tears accompanied the sniffle he heard, and your hand comes up to wipe them away in haste.

simon’s hips freeze instantly. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? you okay?”

fuck, did he do something wrong?

to his surprise, you scoff. smiling despite wet cheeks and red eyes and simon blames his impending orgasm for how slow he is to understand. “i’m okay,” you reassure him. when your fingers trail up his spine, simon can barely breathe. “i just love you so much. don’t be so RECKLESS next time, okay?”

your legs tighten their hold around his hips. pulling him closer even when simon wants to pull back and really make sure you’re okay. you don’t allow it, instead grinding up against him at the same pace he’d been fucking you in - still sniffling and wiping a tear away on his arm.

simon swears he’s never cum so hard in his life.

☾

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

… sees you cry and stares.

morning has always been alejandro’s favorite time of day.

pinkish gold sunlight coming in through the window promises a beautiful day that he’ll likely be too busy to truly enjoy but welcomes all the same. alejandro hears the bustle of traffic outside - your place isn’t nearly as nice as his, but it’s closer to base and he’s never been known to waste time with you. alejandro is just a little tempted to rip his gaze away from you to enjoy the sunrise coming over las almas.

but he doesn’t. he never does. you’re just too fucking pretty.

alejandro kills two birds with one stone. pulls you out of bed and leads you over to the window just as the sun paints the clouds a deep gold. it saturates your skin in such a perfect way where alejandro can’t help but to touch it. touch your face, your neck, your shoulders, your back, your stomach, and well, he knows your pussy would look fucking HEAVENLY under the light as well.

“pretty fucking girl,” alejandro groans out. he usually likes watching his cock sink inside of you, but there was something about the glow of your skin pressed against the window that makes him just stare at your face. his thrusts are slow and deep, and your breath fogs up the glass, and you keep tugging your shirt down when alejandro pushes it up because you’re the one who has to face your neighbors every day.

when you came along, he didn’t think there could ever be a more beautiful sight than when you first smiled at him.

you proved him wrong with just a few tears reflecting the sunrise.

alejandro could’ve came right then and there. his hips did a little stutter and he grunted when you let out a little whimper while squeezing your eyes shut and he just watched a tear glide over your cheek. he almost pulls you away from the window to flip you around. fully face him so the glass doesn’t GREEDILY soak up all your tears because he’s fucking you so firmly against it.

“al- alejan- fuck, i’m so…”

“i know, baby. keep looking at me. yeah, lemme see those eyes. fuck…”

he kisses you. has a hand tangled into your hair and twists your neck into a better angle and kisses you to taste the salt on your lips and it’s like a bomb went off. alejandro’s hips pick up their pace and you rock back against him and fog up the glass even more when you shudder on his cock.

he cums with your tears wiping off against his own cheeks and salt on his tongue.

☾

RUDOLFO PARRA

… is the one to cry.

“it’s okay, rudy. doing so good for me. i’m almost there, you don’t have to cry.”

was he crying? fuck, he was. rudy didn’t even notice until you smiled at him fondly, bringing a hand up to brush away a tear that broke past his lashes and threatened to fall down his face. 

rudy waits for the hot flash of embarrassment to hit him, but it never does. maybe it’s because this is you. but it's more likely because he’s so fucking close to cumming, he can’t focus on anything else but you. keeping his hands locked around your hips, strong enough to keep them moving back and forth even when you try to slow them down and draw out his orgasm. 

you hadn’t even notice rudy’s big, wet eyes until you attempted to slow down. keeping a more steady pace in his lap to give your thighs a rest, and yeah, to wind rudy up just a little. he works so hard. he DESERVES to get fucked out of his mind now and then.

maybe you went too far, though. when you try to stall your hips, his hands make sure they keep their pace. his own hips buck up off the bed to get even deeper.

“i know you wanna cum.” it’s difficult to keep your voice steady. to not devolve into harsh pants and groans like he has. “but not before me, okay? make me cum, rudy. fuck, make me cum…”

he huffs - such a large demand for someone so fucked-stupid. rudy is so smart, so capable, and so fucking useless right now that maybe it’s too much to ask of him. so to help him out, you pry his hand off your hip. bring it up to your mouth and slide the whole length of his thumb between your lips, letting it glide across your tongue.

rudy instantly gasps and his hips jolt up. you can feel his cock throb even harder inside of you.

but with his thumb coated in saliva, you bring his hand down to where you meet. rudy takes it from there - give him a task, point him in the right direction, and he’ll complete it. he rubs his thumb in tight, DESPERATE circles while his other hand keep your hips in a deep grinding pace until you cum all over him.

it was good. fucking fantastic. but not your favorite part.

rudy knows he’s finally allowed to cum, and he does. so achingly beautiful in the way his jaw drops open, saliva stringing between his teeth. eyes hazy and wet with damp cheeks and a pink nose and when he groans, his voice is hoarse and choked. 

eventually, when you fall against his chest, all you hear are rudy’s hard panting and his sniffles.

☾

PHILLIP GRAVES

… sees you cry and laughs.

graves can be a real asshole sometimes. sarcastic, arrogant, and you know him well enough to know that he kinda likes it. makes him feel larger than life. untouchable. now is no different.

“c’mon, hun. i wanna hear it. y’can’t cum until i hear you say it.”

your arms are thrown over your face, hiding the way your teeth grit together and your eyes screw shut and how your jaw hangs open to gasp for air whenever graves bullies his cock even deeper with each thrust. and to be honest, you barely heard what he said - it was all just white noise. still, you know what he wants. and you’re a little too PROUD to give in.

there’s silence. graves scoffs and you feel him lean forward to grip your arms in his hands. being ripped away from your face reveals a little tremble of your lips, tiny red splotches on your cheeks, and tears lining your eyes. 

graves laughs as if it isn’t his fault. torturing you and playing with you. resetting the goalpost of what you need to do to cum.

the laugh is deep and GENUINE - the kind you’re treated with in the middle of the night away from his shadows, saved especially for you. the grin that accompanies it isn’t bad either. but the laugh is like a slap to the face (something graves might’ve inflicted if his hands were free - after all, you haven’t said your safe word.)

“my poor baby.” he says it so condescendingly. with a quirk of his brow and tilt of his head. as if he and his cock hadn’t caused the tears. “bet it’s gettin’ painful, huh? bet a good orgasm will make you feel right as rain.”

you slowly nod because god, you need to cum.

so graves hums, still wearing a smirk as he shifts on his knees. you whimper under the movement, spine arching, eyes solely focused on him. “then you gotta ask permission, right? c’mon, hun. sound off for me. i know you can do it,” he encourages while his fingers trail slowly down your body. going straight where you needed him the most.

normally, if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve gotten smart with him. but as extra initiative, graves bends his spine a little. pushing his cock in just a little deeper and plainly getting off on how you gasp and your eyes finally push out hot, wet tears. 

this has gone on for too long. everything from your pussy down is throbbing.

“shadow 0-1…”

“hearin’ you loud and clear, baby.”

“requesting permission to cum…”

#call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #call of duty smut #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rudolfo parra x reader #phillip graves x reader

[honestsycrets]

Stung | [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | after a discus malfunction, you're bitten by an anomaly and refuse medical attention. you're in a state that you refuse to show to miguel-- at all costs.

❛ tags | NSFW, sex pollen, mention of a wound, slight chase, miguel o'hara doesn't like to be ignored, cum eating, creampies, abnormal amount of fluid, venom bite, slapping, some insecurity, spanish is not translated, sexual memories.

❛ sy’s notes | my obligatory ABO-sex pollen fic for ATSV. i usually make a ABO/Sex Pollen piece per fandom I write in, so here's one for Miggy 🐝

“All done!”

You slipped out of HQ’s packed infirmary with a jaunty bounce in your step. Crispy, coppery blood was matted onto your forearm concealed behind a hastily tied bandage. You weren't concerned about it. It would resolve within the hour. Likely less. As would your elevated body temperature. Despite the doctor's prattle about the benefit of further testing, you found their concern to be a non-issue. These things were virtual non-issues, even if the doctor and your man thought otherwise. 

The hallways at HQ were like any other day in your city. Congested with the coming and going of spiders in their daily lives. A glimpse at any group might reveal decadent flirting and haughty laughter. Some were in a rush to their own worlds, but most were completing work assigned by the Spider Society. The one you were looking for reclined against a wall with his arms interlocked one over the other. His displeased rumble prompted you to his presence above all other voices in the crowd. 

“You should have let them run the tests.” His voice was teased with concern but became mild, little more than a drab sigh at your refusal. You blew off his concern with a shake of your hand, gone yellow and bubbly behind a bit of ineffectual gauze. His eye glazed over the wound. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind his mask, but you didn't need to. You only needed to convince him you were right.

“It’s stopped bleeding, Miggy. It’s just a scratch,” You held up your arm, flicking it with emphasis. His eyebrows raised for a moment, then flattened, staring at you with a dull rictus. “It was just a brief malfunction of the discus.” 

Technically it was more of an impalement, but if Miguel wasn’t going to ask, you weren’t going to invite him to delve deeper. Otherwise, you might spend the next few hours of your life fixing a wound that surely would have closed up by the time results were back. The injury site mildly itched. That was all. Never mind, the slight, honey-colored rash migrating from the puncture site to your elbow. Or the referred pain. Minor things. 

“You’re being stubborn.” 

“You’re the one to talk.” You snapped the discus free from your sash and chucked it toward Miguel.  He caught it with an unsurprising amount of ease, claws clicking in unison against the ineffectual metal.

“¡Qué problema!” he mocked, his voice dry and absent of discernible emotion. 

You closed the distance between your bodies to slide your arms around his broad neck. His other hand came to your lower back. It was warm, the way he touched you, from the bundles of affection that fluttered in your belly to the heat dappling across your chest. You missed this every day. It made fleeing the infirmary all the more worth it.

“I put the anomaly in another discus. One that actually works, no thanks to your programming.”

“That’s what happens when you take things without asking.” He flicked the discus between his thumb and index finger, waggling it for emphasis. It was true that there had been nights that went with banging, clacks, clatters, and the occasional outburst when things weren’t quite going his way. There were a few discuses on his desk. You just so happened to take the one that malfunctioned. “I was working on it. ¿Qué era?” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Just some stingy bees. What harm could they do?” 

His eyes roamed your wound. You couldn't help but look down too, both horrified and fascinated by the way the rash had moved in just a brief few minutes. The colour had begun to fade. You glanced up, flattening your mouth into a slight, forced smile.

“Fine. If you're sure.”

To be fair, you secured many anomalies with and without the help of others. They all went into their cozy, temporary forcefield homes until they could be fairly redirected to their appropriate dimensions. In the downtime, you could help or hinder Miguel's progress. Then, your watch would alert you to another disturbance and the cycle would continue. 

Until that morning. 

Your watch blared, and blared, and blared some more. The early morning sun began to rise and cast offensive beams of light into your room. Usually, it didn’t bother you. But this morning, everything offended you from the scratch of silky sheets on your naked body to Lyla illuminating what darkness was left, all golden and cute. You wondered if that was how Miguel felt when you forgot to pull the curtains, strung out on the bed after he finished with you.

“Woah! Oops!” she turned, covering her eyes with her spindly fingers. A growing ache throbbed between your legs. It wasn’t quite the same dull soreness from Miguel’s late-night visit last night, either. “Sorry, sorry. Miguel--”

“He can handle it,” you bit out, snappier than you intended. It wasn't like you. “Or-- Jess. No, Gwen. Gwen can do it, she loves--” 

“He asked for you.” 

Of course, he did. You scrunched a pillow over your head. Your Miguel couldn’t see you this. Absolutely not. You debated getting up, ignoring what you called a negligible ache that was quickly morphing into a terrible pounding. You can't believe how quickly the thought fell apart, pushing yourself to sit up in bed. The ghost of his scent floods your nose, flashing memories of the night before.

Something at work set him off. Something that commanded no intimacy, but the mechanical release of his rage that wouldn't destroy precious resources. He sat on the edge of the bed, driving your mouth onto his cock with the aid of your hair bundled around his fist. You recalled the shakiness of his thighs under your fingers, his firm legs spread wide fucking your mouth with cold abandon. He chased his own orgasm selfishly, needing the release, needing to see your body painted by whips of his cum sprayed across your exposed breasts. He pulled you off in silence, inspecting the drool and cum that spilled down your chin and throat in rivulets. "What--"

Your face tightened, glancing down at the growing tension in your belly. Everything began to annoy you, especially the scratch of the sheets against your skin, your bed empty of his presence. How could you tolerate that uniform plastered to your ass? You buried into the offensive bed. This was fine. This was normal, recalling what you'd done last night. Surely, the burn had to do with the whole being launched through not one, but two crumbling buildings the day before. The dust and rubble. Were you close to your cycle?

“Tell him I’m dead,” and without another word, you resolved the call. Within seconds she popped up again, bent at the waist because this was your life now. Never could you just… take a day off. There was always something. You muffled your screams of protest into the mattress and dug your feet in, kicking off the sheets, the blankets, the pillows, all of it.

“Is this a fit? You’ve never had a fit before,” Lyla noticed. A fit? She thought the burning of your body was a fit? Damn AI. Resolve. 

Resolve. Resolve. Resolve.

It became cathartic after a good while. Or it would have been if not for your senses hyper-fixating on every minor change in your body.  Despite your apprehension, you knew. What was once a dull pain radiating from your forearm morphed into something much worse. Something you couldn’t blame on the rather average experience of being pelted through the average event of windows and concrete. It was more than a tingle. It burned as it coursed through your body. 

You stumbled over the bundle of bedding into the bathroom. It was there that you realized that to your horror, you weren’t just lubricated, now you were soaked. Your fluids coursed down your thighs as you dabbed the region clean with a bundle of tissues. It did little good. Touching the area exasperated the issue. Maybe you needed an orgasm, maybe ten. An hour or so later, you slammed the heel of your palm into the mirror, fracturing it into shards of terrible glass that crumbled onto the countertop. Beads of blood dabbled onto your reflection. 

“If you d--” resolve.

So not a reaction to your average bee sting. Correction. A great, big, fat colony of hissing, buzzing bees. The act of recalling information was like jamming your hand into fluid water to snatch a tiny hair tie. No matter how many times you tried to recall the information, you couldn’t quite grasp it. It was there, floating around your head, but inaccessible. Your mind traveled back to Miguel. How gentle his lips could be, trailing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder when you rode him in reverse. How deep he'd go. 

"Fuck off!" Your watch blared again. Its beeping filled your bathroom, echoing over and over. You reached behind the door to pluck a silky white slip from its hook and dragged it over your head. You were about to resolve the call again when the hot timbre in his warm voice saying your name gave you pause. Your Miguel, popping up in a golden haze. You found yourself gazing at his full lips, full and plump. If only he was here. He could have his lips on your--

“What are you doing?” 

Lost in thought, you failed to realize that Miguel had been calling you by name again. You shook your hazy mind free of the thoughts that formed a swirling cloud over your head. You slumped down the wall and onto the floor.

Help was what you failed to say. As your mouth opened, nothing came out. The words were not wording. The vulnerability of asking for help was palpable. You soothed yourself by shifting your hands underneath your skirt. What would he think if he saw you here-- ripped asunder by your own biology? Whore. Miguel lowered his gaze, his eyes squinting at the sweat dabbling down your neckline as he looked you over. He wouldn't want you anymore.

“Are you listening? ¡Coño! What is wrong with you!?” 

Resolve.

You resolved him. Your Miggy-- resolved. Oh, you swallowed dryly. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. It wasn’t a matter of if Miguel would come for you. It was a matter of when. When he had time to separate himself from trashing-- whatever was the closest object to him in the lab-- to take out his rage on you. You reached for your medicine cabinet. You had more important things to worry about. First on the list? The searing heat.

Your watch was better off tucked away in a chest in the closet.

Night came with no solutions. You crouched on your window sill, chest rising and falling. You sought to stare at anything but the mindless buzz of the tv screen inside. Even with light pollution, some stars winked in the distance. Your body was a bundle of warm heat, buzzing with irritation after a fruitless day of soothing your body. You grew accustomed to your pert nipples against your silky slip, the lubricant coursing down your leg. At first, denial. Now, acceptance. You thought tomorrow might be better.

You felt his presence before you heard, smelled, or saw him. Through the sea of scorched sensations battering your senses, there was one that stood apart. A tickle that niggled at the back of your head. It could have been anyone, but you didn’t have to guess to know who it was. “Lyla." 

“You haven’t called him all day,” Lyla squeaked. 

“Called all-- I answered his call!” Your dress was matted to your body, cloaked in an abhorrent amount of sweat. It was only minutes ago that you retrieved your watch confident that you could bullshit something, anything, for a few days of reprieve. You jammed your shaking finger to resolve the call. 

“Not all of them. Miguel was worried.” 

“Worried! Lyla, that is not worried,” you spat. That was your Miguel, scaling the side of your apartment. His talons cracking the siding of your apartment. The reverberations spiraled up your legs, sending waves of anticipation lapping at your core. After your long day, you weren't sure how you were still somehow upright. With every crack of his talon into the brick siding, you were running out of time to come up with an excuse.

In a bid to escape, you fell into your room. The hard floor knocked the breath out of your dry lips. You stumbled onto your feet and supported yourself with a bookcase of less than half-read books. “Lyla, he can’t see me like this!” 

“Then tell me what’s going on,” she popped back up. “C’mon, you can tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

If her tone was playful in some half-baked attempt to neutralize your fight, the threat was imminent. Your hand connected with the top of the window, applying pressure to close the window. A hair too late. At the same time, Miguel’s clawed hand curled around the bottom of the window sash. You were too slow for the man who excelled with power, speed, and efficiency. You weren't going to win this fight. Not with your body threatening to crack at the very sight of your man's strength.

Though you saw him nearly daily, he always took your breath away. His sinewy body was always a sight, his suit accentuated his thick and fine cut. You moistened your lips, longing to run your fingers through his thick dark brown hair as you did every night. You caught his sharp gaze a second longer than you should have.

 “Open up,” he whispered coolly.

He was a distraction. The wind was not on your side either, blowing wisps of his scent into your overwrought senses. His natural musk mixed with the sweat of a hard day's work. Somewhere in there, bitter blood. You could smell the caramelized scent of the flaky, buttery empanadas and hot coffee you shared the day before. It gave you pause, his intoxicating smell and the sultry trill of his voice. But you couldn’t let him see you, not like this.

“Oop, there he is. Just checking on you,” Lyla chittered. Resolve.

“Miggy, please go away,” you sobbed in frustration, shifting to shoulder the window. “Why are you so stubborn!?” 

“It’s who I am.” 

The window cracked all at once. With mere milliseconds to respond to the sash careening into the upper rail, you whirled past the bedroom door. Miguel broke into a run behind you with long strokes of his legs. He made contact, sending you barreling into your lazy sapphire couch from the impact. You saw stars for a fraction of a second before you lurched on your palms and elbows, scrambling off of the couch and across the floor. His hand caught your ankle and dragged you underneath his body.

“¡Ay!” you bit out. “No, no no no. Miggy!” 

“¡Callate!” 

His hand wrapped tightly around your throat to force complacency, pinning you back to the hardwood floor. Your palms slammed onto his chest, drawing lines down his chest. Bits of pathetic electricity fizzled on his broad, muscular chest, a consequence of your fading focus. That focus was eviscerated when Miguel threw his hips flat against your core. Your frantic fidgeting against Miguel soothed some of the terrible, buzzing pressure rattling between your legs like warm honey on a sore wound. The ache for his relief became more important than the impulse for substantial breaths.

“Don’t move. Why are you--”

“I can’t help it,” you cut him off, straining against his large palm to stare at his crotch. His gaze fell on yours, following the path to his soft cock. His eyes widened with the sudden attention. Tears threatened to spill over from your eyes, pricked with spikes of pain. "It's too much!"

You ate your shame with his body crouched between your legs and his large palm choking the air out of your throat. The influx of air not only brought your scent, but your day-long desperation to fix what you believed was wrong. He could smell it now. He could see it now. He could hear it in your voice. He knew why you failed to answer his calls. The violent jabbing of the resolve button. Throwing your watch into your cramped closet to ignore the calls. The pheromones that soaked your apartment. It was unavoidable.

“You can’t help it,” he repeated. Miguel considered you with razor-sharp eyes, nearly as sharp as the talons that rescinded into his arms. 

"I'll see about that." His hand left your neck to reveal bundles of bumpy shivers that soared across your skin. He raised his finger to wipe away the wet tears that fell from your flushed cheeks. Then dropping lower, Miguel chased the thin straps of your gown with his claw and slid the offending fabric off of your breast. The nub was as hard as it had been hours ago when you twerked the nipple between your fingertips and dreamed of Miguel.

“You’re...” he cupped your breast in your palm and massaged your nipple with one sharp twist of his thumb. The gasp that left your lips wasn’t one you were proud of. Your undulating hips that ground down on his cock weren’t entirely unwarranted. You needed it. "Hot. As if you're in heat."

This couldn’t be happening. From a ball of rage to one of arousal, he released a tiny amused chuckle. You spent much of the day in different parts of the apartment with your hand, toy, ice, and water into your body to soothe this terrible ache. So Miguel wouldn't see you like this. It was this moment you sought to avoid after your long day: The moment of Miguel's disapproval. Now he laughed at you.

“Happy?” you sobbed into the forearm that kept Miguel stable. “Go away, someone else could use your stupid help.”

“Don’t you need me?” Miguel dipped his head down. Strands of his dark hair tickled your hypersensitive skin. With the lightweight fabric of his suit, pressing your cunt back against his clothed bulge felt wonderful. You bit your lower lip and watched his cock jut against its fabric. You lifted your puffy eyes to his gaze and found a wicked gleam there. He knew it wasn’t enough contact for the pressure and painful spasms to abate. Deep down, you knew that Miguel was your only hope for relief. Who else could, or would, you call in this condition? Mostly because Miguel always fixed everything.

"Miggy," you murmured. After this pitiful display, he wasn't rejecting you? Your mind flowed weightless and light. The terror of your day faded under his careful caress. In its place, comfort that he would take care of you.

“Don’t you?” His hand snaked between your folds and found it soaked wet, the low throbbing of your pussy palpable. He retracted his fingers and spread the sticky fluid between his thumb and middle finger. At some point, silence became better than an answer. Miguel brought his hand down on your cunt for a sharp slap. Bundles of nerves cried out under the abuse. It shook free a squeal from your lips, bitten raw by the pressure of the day. Your head bobbed into a mechanical nod as to save yourself from another slap.

“You know how to ask. It’s si Miguel, por favor Miguel.”

You needed the warm sensation of his cum. But making those words proved too difficult. Your canines pierced bloody holes in your lower lip. You clawed up his forearms, trying to leverage and force him closer. Miguel grabbed your shoulders and thrashed them back down onto the floor. You felt bad for the downstairs neighbors. 

“Say it.” 

“Miggy,” you looked into his eyes. They were blown wide, nearly fully black with a thin outline of scarlet, chasing the outline of your exposed breast. For all his talk, you realized he wasn't immune. Even with his face tight, his eyes focused on the same thing you needed. Maybe, all this time, you were baiting Miguel with half-assed answers. They were invitations. Invitations to come to fill this need you had. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t what you wanted this whole time. Finally, you had him where you wanted him. 

Miguel broke eye contact first. He cupped his plush lips around your nipple, suckling the breast taut and wet. You cried out in surprise and arched into Miguel’s mouth, enticed by the fangs that grazed your nipple. As quickly as he came, he was gone.

You lurched up, palming Miguel's dick through his pants. His hips bucked into your palm. He refused to make any sound as he considered your next movements, releasing Miguel’s cock from his suit. Impatience and need coalesced into your brave movements, sliding your palm against him. He was impossibly thick and hard, dribbling at the tip. Miguel huffed a small noise as your palm ran over him. You dared to call it a moan.

Miguel sneered and shoved you back onto the floorboards. “I’ll only tell you one more time. Ask me properly.” 

"You do too, don't you?" You giggled. A noise that grated his ear. With the belief you wouldn’t bolt, Miguel shifted back onto his knees. You wouldn’t. There was nowhere left to run. Not that you even wanted to, fat and hungry off Miguel's growing desperation.

"Come here." He snaked his hands underneath your knees, dragged you close, and pushed them to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut. Moments later, the sensation of his thick dick sliding against your engorged folds forced them back open. It gave you just enough relief through the pulsing pain to look at him with your hazy eyes. From this angle, you appreciated how large Miguel had gotten. His round cock-head bobbed and crested over your mound as it rubbed against your aching clit. His face was trained, focused. He wasn't going to relent first.

The nagging pressure never abated. You sought something more, something better, the sensation of being filled. With every glide, you squeezed your walls in protest to his absence. Your hips protested the restriction of your movement, shimmying against the firm hold he had that kept you in place. You wanted more than that. You wanted true relief from his teasing. Miguel drew back to inspect the fluid over his fat shaft as held you down. You gave in, whining at him like a brat.

“Por,” you scratched his forearms. “Por favor, Miggy. You don’t know what it's like.” 

“All fours-- face down.” 

The cacophony of desire battered and overcame any other human emotion you could have. You complied, crawling onto your fuzzy indigo rug for what came next. Miguel’s gloved hand skimmed across your ass, middle finger skimming toward the center. He followed up his gentle touch by reeling back his hand and cracking it across your ass, searing the nerves alive. Once, twice, and then a third. Tears pricked your cheeks again, a consequence of your nerves being overwrought and now assailed.

“Miggy!” 

He shushed you with fervor, another thwack beating the jiggling flesh hot and red. Your legs trembled under the weight of his slaps. “Ignore my calls again and you’ll get much worse.”

“I didn’t-- you wouldn't want me,” your lips parted in defense of what you’d done. Miguel dipped down to spread your folds, rolling his index finger along your pulsing walls. Your body drew him in, squeezing and urging him forward. Your swollen walls were impossibly tight, straining to bring him in more and more.

"You know I do."

The need for more devoured any other thought, any threats of what he’d do next time. You rolled your hips to ride his hand. In place of a slap, Miguel slid another finger slid in beside the first to stretch your walls open. He faltered at your next words and slid his fingers free.

“Not like… not like I need you.” 

“Who decides that?” he pressed on your upper back to force it down. You complied. Miguel stumbled forward, finally pressing his thick head to your pulsing entrance. His round head pressed, just barely, into your wet hole. You clenched down, inviting him into your warmth. You weren’t sure he’d actually give it to you. It was so damn close.

“You do, Miggy,” you murmured, pushing back. He watched as his shaft slowly disappeared into your body, your apprehension of retaliation rendered you too slow to finish.

Miguel snatched your waist and forced you to take the rest, a soppy squelch lubricating his shaft. The sound that slipped from your lips was entirely uncouth, punctuated by his unforgiving thrusts. Your walls strained around his cock. No matter how many times you took him, the drag of his cock and slap of balls against your body always felt somehow like the first. It filled that ache-- the consistent burning need to have him here, inside of your greedy body, scratching something that you could not itch all day. It’s what you wanted. 

“That’s right, I do.” Miguel rumbled, short, punctuated thrusts beating your clenching cunt into complacency. The pleasure ruptured through your cunt-- battering his dick in response. He let loose a sharp grunt followed by a string of curses. Your sweet release spilled over his dick and balls, dripping down your thighs. Your legs threatened to shook, but Miguel was unwilling to allow your trembling legs to give out.

"Ah! Miggy!" His fangs punctured your shoulder to force you to stay in position, his pelvis stuttering against yours. His growl punctuated the warm, soothing cum that soothed your walls like warm honey over a wound. Your walls milked him free of his cum, spasming in response to his orgasm. He pieced himself together against your back, pulling his fangs free and settling a soft kiss over the burning wound on your shoulder. As if he hadn't been the one to tear his fangs into the crook of your neck.

“You’re not letting go,” he hummed in annoyance. He turned his attention down to your ass, ghosting his fingers over the healing bruises over your backside. You squealed, jerking forward. He followed you forward, punching a hole in the floor by your side. “Fuck, don’t move!” 

You cast your attention back toward Miguel. He huffed forcefully out of his nostrils. He motioned toward your ass as if it were obvious-- your walls were clamped over his cock, unwilling or otherwise unable to let him go, as if he had any more cum to give in that current moment. You took it all.

“I. I didn't-- I can’t--” 

“Yeah, I know. That Bee venom does that. Mine should neutralize it.”

At some point, you murmured. It sure as hell wasn’t doing it now, keeping him seated into your cunt that bubbled with the mixture of his and your release. “You knew about it? I could have died!” 

Miguel chuckled. 

“You wouldn’t. You’re too stubborn to die,” he sighed, fiddling with his watch. The tests-- that you never had ran. Ones that he suggested. Ones that you refused quite openly. “Why would I deny myself the fun?” 

His cock slipped free. Your hips dropped and fell slack against the floor. You weren’t proud of the cum that oozed out of your ass over your decimated room, nor the fact that your useless neighbors hadn’t called for help once. Not that you needed it-- but still. You palpated your stomach, slightly distended. Miguel bent down and gathered the mixture of your bodily fluids on his fingers, suckling his own fingers dry. You watched his wet tongue swirl around his fingertips. It wasn't fair.

“Fun? What fun!? Do you know how long I-- You’re a mean man, Miguel O’Hara.” 

He lurched over, his breath tickling your lips. He kissed you, salty and sweet. Your nose scrunched up, pouting against his lips. He left the room for the kitchen, fetching a wet cloth to clean his body with. He zipped himself back into his suit shortly after and dropped the sodden cloth by the cum puddling under your ass.

“Never said I wasn’t.” 

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #Miguel ohara/reader #atsv imagine #atsv x you #atsv x reader #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

[roseykat]

TITLE: How each of the members talks to you during sex

SUMMARY: blurbs on how each of the members talk to you/verbally treat you during sex!

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

TAGS: smut, mentions of sexual intercourse, cumplay, breeding, humiliation, dirty talk, swearing, use of names such as good girl, baby girl, angel, slut bunny.

MASTERLIST

A/N: haven’t done an OT8 piece in a while. Next work is ‘Play Night’ from my Play series! Really sorry for pedalling out content slower than usual, just been a busy gal as of late and also working on the rest of my promised parts to other works too. Those will be prioritised over the new ideas I have x

BANG CHAN

He is an absolute king at communicating. Chan will verbalise to you how he feels just about every step of the way when he’s hitting it in every position. He’s letting you know how insane your pussy makes him feel, how good his body feels. At the same time, he is also the type of person to say things such as ‘do you like it when I do that?’, ‘what about this way?’, ‘can you feel that?’

Chan also has this thing he likes to do where he cums first, inside you of course, then focuses on making you orgasm next so that when he pulls out, he can see your pussy pulsate and try to squeeze out his seed. He'd plug your sensitive hole with a few of his fingers, stroking your creamy walls. Doing something like that will compel him to say something like 'look at this mess princess, need daddy to fuck it back into you?', 'that's it, don't wanna waste a single drop, right baby?'

MINHO

You’re his personal wet, fuck toy and he’ll see you as nothing else unless you’re making love. If that’s the case, there’s barely any talk except ‘I love you’s’. Which is never a bad thing because the physicality speaks for itself. But if you’re not his love, you’re his whore, his little slut bunny that he rails and lets you know that you are one.

He’ll have a hand on your throat, leaning down into your ear which forces you to hear his every word. Minho also mock-moans you as almost a form of humiliation. Every time you scream out that you’re going to cum, he’ll repeat your words in the same manner just to be a dick. But for some reason, it’s fucking hot.

CHANGBIN

A man of principle as we all know, and as a man of principle, he sticks to what he believes. And what’s that exactly? He believes that you are his. So yes he can be quite possessive and is vocal about it in the bedroom, or, wherever it is that he decides to fuck your brains out.

Changbin is letting you know that your pussy is his, is for him, is for his taking. He’ll tell you that your tits are for him to suck on. He’ll tell you your body is for him to mark, that your ass is for him to grope, slap, and grab. Above all, Changbin will not fail to also tell you how beautiful you are with him. Possessive Binnie is a staple concept.

HYUNJIN

Almost similar to Chan in a way, Hyunjin will let you know how he feels. But similar to his artistic streak, he can actually be really descriptive with what goes on in bed despite his semi-soft personality that would wrongly suggest that he's shy. For example, he will tell you something along the lines of ‘keep squeezing around me baby girl’, ‘need to fuck this pussy forever,' 'need to see you dripping with my cum.’

Lately, you’ve noticed a spike in Hyunjin’s obsession with breeding and that has massively impacted the way that he talks to you. Ever since he heard and read up on the phenomenon of his newly acquired kink, he can’t stop saying things to you like; ‘gonna be a good girl and have my kids, huh? Wanna breed this pretty pussy - fuck my bloodline into you’ - something unhinged like that.

JISUNG

Again, under the switch!Jisung agenda, depending on what way he leans for the night dictates how he talks to you in bed. If he’s subbing, and you’re fucking him? Oh, he is whining. Whining to you like a bitch in heat, telling you to spit in his mouth, how much he loves it when you fuck him, he’d tell you to go harder and faster until he passes out. He’d shamelessly cry out ‘I’m gonna cum - you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum’ repeatedly and without a care in the world.

When he tops, he has the same level of communication but with the opposite style of talk. Out of all of these guys, Jisung is up there with one of the filthiest mouths. Saying things to you like ‘look at all this cream around your pussy, makes me want to fuck you with my tongue,’ or, ‘I’ll fucking make you cum as many times as I want, I need you spilling on these sheets you hear me?’ He just becomes totally deranged because of you.

FELIX

Words of affirmation are just a top-tier love language of his just as much as physical affection. Felix will speak to you in the most loving manner possible when he’s doing the dirtiest of things to your body. Like fingering your wet, oversensitive pussy and breathing into your ear, how much he loves your dripping hole. How it only gets that wet for him.

Felix would be into a lot of fun activities in the bedroom but at your own sanity really. They're activities that could involve edging for more than an hour. Similarly, overstimulation as well that could last over an hour. In those instances, Felix is showering you with praise. Every orgasm or every time you try and hold off - 'my angel, look at how well you're going. So wet and perfect. Makes me want to just stop now and fuck you. You want that, don't you? Want to cum on my cock instead?"

SEUNGMIN

Seungmin’s form of verbalisation is almost like some type of militarisation, like he’s handing out instructions to you as if it’s the army. In the bedroom, whenever there’s edging, overstimulation, rope, handcuffs, toys, contraptions of sorts, chains, you name it, he will be telling you what to do and will say things like ‘hold your arms out so I can tie them,’ ‘open up that mouth nice and wide’, ‘spread those legs for me’, ‘make sure you swallow everything I give you’, and it’s always in a nonchalant, indifferent, and uncaring tone. 

In a way, it’s reiterating that he calls the shots, and sometimes it feels like he's using your body - which is welcomed here and there. Other than that, Seungmin can say some pretty out there stuff too which makes you wonder where it all comes from. Such as ‘need to keep fucking this pretty pussy of yours otherwise I’ll go crazy’, ‘not stopping until you squirt all over my cock’, ‘that’s it, fuck yourself on my dick until you cum.’

JEONGIN

Jeongin is a different breed of cattle when it comes to the way he speaks to you in the bedroom. He’s the type of person to praise you first, then belittle you in the next second or the opposite way around. He is the first person to call you a 'whore' or a 'cock-driven slut' whenever you beg him to fuck you. Then once he does, he will call you his 'good girl', his 'sweet girl' for taking his cock so well <3

Jeongin can, for the most part, be a receiver - in the sense that he makes you do all the work just to punish you and not necessarily because you or he wants you to take control. That does happen every now and then, but whenever he’s receiving head or you’re riding him, he’s still the boss. He’ll still tell you to ‘ride my cock faster’, egging you on by saying ‘I know you can do better than that’, ‘what? You want to cum? I think you can wait.’ He’d just be a menace tbh.

I strictly forbid and do not permit anyone or any user to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr to any other social media platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#rosiewritesskz #skz smut #stray kids smut #ot8 skz smut #Ot8 Stray Kids smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #felix smut #hyunjin smut #i.n smut #changbin smut #seungmin smut

[norrizzandpia]

Hiiii, could you do something with lando wanting to be protective of reader like her being afraid of something happening and him hugging her tightly to make sure she is safe w him 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

I need this man so bad and this just fueled that

Safe With Me, Love (LN4)

Summary: When a man at a club makes Y/n uncomfortable, touching her, grabbing her, Lando’s the first to stop it.

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, lando almost getting into a fight, verbal abuse, language, lando gets super angry, but major fluff at the end and all is well

Note: i am in no way trying to glorify sexual assault with this at all. What happens to a multitude of women around the world and incredibly disgusting, my heart goes out to all the victims of any kind of sexual assault.

There’s a loud boom from the speakers as Lando and Y/n sidle up next to each other in the dimly lit booth Max had secured for the night. Shot glasses and other drinks are scattered across the surface of the table, the majority of the liquid having been consumed by their friends who had tagged along. Max F and Pietra dance together on the floor while Oscar and Max V are left to grimace at the touchy exchanges between the couple left in their seats.

A dangerous hand high up on Y/n’s thigh has Max V gagging into Oscar’s shoulder, “When do you guys stop?”

Lando’s hazy eyes give him a quick glance before retreating back to his beautiful Y/n, “I don’t stop. She tries to make me, but let’s be honest, I never will.”

Oscar rolls his eyes and Max V throws back the rest of his drink. The two men get up and flee the area in a panic when Lando starts kissing her neck softly, knowing the boy is quite affectionate when he drinks. Y/n is a bit farther than her boyfriend on the drunk spectrum, making her more prone to accepting his PDA-filled advances. She snickers into his ear when his tongue lightly traces her skin and her hands dance in his hair when he whispers how much he loves her.

Y/n and Lando could not be more clingy when they’ve consumed alcohol. Everybody knows this. From the fans and media to their families, the couple has had multiple drunken exchanges where they were more than comfortable sharing how much their physical connection was just as strong as their emotional one.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Lando says as he pulls back, eyes roaming her face as his breathing turns shallow as if he’s completely taken aback by her beauty.

Y/n blushes, “Lan, if I had got a penny for every time you told me I was pretty, we would be billionaires just off that money, not even with your racing income. Pennies.”

Lando smiles at her as his head lulls to the side. Her back rests against the cushions of the booth while his is turned to the rest of the crowd, his entire front facing her with his hands on her hips, “Good. You should be told how pretty you are every second of every day.”

Her hand lays across his bicep as they look helplessly at each other, drunken smiles and breaths hitting the other’s face from the close proximity. In the midst of the deafening music, their moment is quiet and it reaffirms Lando in his idea that every day he would fall in love with his girl all over again.

His eyes are overwhelming and his look of love makes Y/n want to giggle and squeal, she needs a moment to herself. Lando’s face falls slightly when she mentions needing to go to the bathroom, “Let me go with you.”

Y/n stands from the booth and shakes her head at him with a light grin, “No, baby. I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in five minutes tops.”

He’s persistent, his hand clutching hers still, “No, Y/n. Stay.”

Puppy dog eyes and a pouted lip threaten Y/n’s plan to calm down from Lando’s eyes, but she perseveres.

“You wanna know the truth?” She pops her hip out and stares down at him, his body warming at her sassy position.

He nods, “Always.”

She leans down to his ear and whispers, out of slight embarrassment and the fact that she doesn’t want him to genuinely see the effect he has on her, “You’re making me all flustered and I need to regain my composure.”

When she pulls back, Lando’s mouth has fallen open slightly in a smile with his teeth sticking out a little bit from his top lip, “Oh, well… Then, go right ahead.”

She nods at him before he loosens his grip and she disappears into the crowd. His eyes try to stay on her frame, wanting to make sure she gets to the bathroom, but clubs are always packed and the moment her hand leaves his, his sight of her is lost.

He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

—

Throwing away the used paper towel, Y/n exits the bathroom and is immediately slammed into a hard chest. She reels back, discreetly checking the stranger’s shirt for any makeup stains. When she finds none, she lets her natural kind demeanor shine through.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t see where I was going.” She gives, the man staring down at her in a way that puts her off.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her, but when she tries to move past him, his arm comes to hold her bicep.

“What’s your name?” He asks. Alarms sound off in her brain at his tightening grip, panic settling into her skin and suffocating her. He’s not much taller than her, maybe 5’6, if that. Though, with her short stature, he still intimidates her with the way he slightly towers over her. Lando would tower over him, she tries to tell herself.

Where’s Lando? Get to Lando.

His fingers on her arm don’t allow for that, however.

A smirk finds its way onto his grimy face as he repeats, “I asked you what your name was, sweetheart.”

Her eyes avert to the floor, “Uh, Y/n.”

Immediately, she knows she’s made a grave mistake. She’s not stupid, just completely lost at the way fear has enveloped her body. She knows she should never give out her name to strangers that grab her without her consent, she just is completely gone to the racing thoughts in her head.

“What a pretty name,” He speaks, grip relentless, “What’s a beautiful girl like yourself doing here alone?”

“I’m not alone. I’m here with my boyfriend and his friends.” She smiles, hoping that the mention of her boyfriend will scare him off.

Happy endings aren’t always guaranteed, though.

The man moves closer, his breath down her face, “Aw, how cute. Who’s your boyfriend?”

In a leap of faith at the power of Lando’s name, Y/n murmurs, “Lando Norris.”

The man keels over with laughter, his grip staying put on her arm however, “Oh, love, how sweet. Are you one of those fan girls that think they have a chance? Lando Norris would never go for someone like you. No offense.”

Offense taken, bitch, she thinks.

Trying to defuse the situation, Y/n lightly pulls at her arm, “None taken. If you can let me go, that’s be great.”

Suddenly, his hand has maneuvered her against the wall, his face right next to her neck as he breaths her in. Turmoil floods Y/n when his other hand comes to trace up and down her thigh, trying to hike it up to his waist but failing when she clamps her legs together.

He whispers in her ear, “Don’t be a bitch. Everyone at this club would take one look at you and know you’re an easy slut. Let me get a taste of what everyone already has.”

Her eyes drown in tears as she tries to seek out help as they rest right outside the bathrooms. However, as ironic as it is, the usual busy bathrooms are ghost towns in the moment a man tries to sexually assault her.

He finally gets her thigh to wind around his waist when his strength overpowers her body and Y/n is taken back to the moments when Lando would manhandle her in bed. What she used to think was the biggest turn on has now turned into something horrifying and painful.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!” There’s shouting from the end of the hallway and the man invading her space moves off her in an instant. Her face whips around to meet Lando’s fiery one, his body stalking toward the man as Max V, Max F, and Oscar follow in tow. All four men are looking enraged, faces burning red at the scene they had just witness whilst Pietra turns around and bolts toward the front of the club. In her loud mind, Y/n knows it’s because Pietra is going to get security.

Lando reaches the man, grabbing the collar of his shirt and shoving him against the opposite wall. He screams in his face, “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH MY GIRLFRIEND LIKE THAT. WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” He spits in the man’s face, “YOU’RE FUCKING DISGUSTING.”

Three burly men return with a distraught Pietra, pulling Lando off the strange man and immediately removing the man from the premises.

With the absence of him, Lando is quick to pull Y/n into his arms, feeling her melt into him. Nobody says anything as he holds her tightly, turning her away from the group so his back faces them and she can cry into his chest lightly with some kind of privacy. His hands clamp down around her body while she grips his shirt. There’s whispers of reassurance and love as he tries to soothe her nerves.

“Get me out of here,” She chokes out, letting her hands drift under his shirt to feel the warmth of his bare skin.

Lando nods as he kisses her temple, “Of course, my love.”

He leads her through the overstimulating crowd and out of the club where the man has been handcuffed and shoved into the backseat of a cop car. An officer approaches her as she’s curled into Lando’s body, asking her for a statement, but, with Lando’s credibility and fame, he speaks softly with the man and asks if he can get her statement another time.

“I think she just needs to go home right now.” He says as Y/n stays hidden in his chest.

Her cowering and shaking strikes a cord in the older man’s heart, “Yes, of course. That’s completely fine. Can I get your number so I can call later tomorrow? Does that work?”

Lando nods, “Yes, that’s perfect,” He lists off his number, the officer taking it down in his notebook. When the last number is drawn, he wishes the couple a calm night and retreats back to his partner.

Y/n tries to hang on to Lando as he tries to pawn her off into the passenger seat of his car. When her hands won’t unclasp from his waist, he leans down and meets her eyes.

His hand lightly rubs her knee, almost hesitant in not wanting to scare her anymore. He looks up at her before softly speaking, “I’m not going to leave you. I promise you that. After that, I will never let you out of my sight ever again. We’re just getting in the car to go home, baby. That’s it. I’ll be right next to you the rest of the night.”

She nods, looking down at her hands in the silence while Lando closes the door and jogs to the other side of the car, getting in.

The car ride back is quiet as Lando lets his hand roam over her thigh. Even though it’s a call back to what the man had done to her in that secluded corner of the club, she doesn’t feel fear or uncomfortable. All she feels is love and security as his fingers lightly trace over the moles and bumps of her leg. Lando’s hands, all of Lando, will never not be a safety net for her, she knows that.

Nothing could make her afraid of him.

He’s delicate with her as they walk to his apartment, an arm tightly around her waist as they wait in the elevator. When they reach his door, he sets her in front of him, between him and the door, as he unlocks it. When it opens, she walks in first and goes straight to the softness of his bed. She falls onto it, letting out a small groan at the comfort, before he catches up with her, his body looming over hers and smiling.

Her mascara must be running down her cheeks and her eyeliner must be smudged across the entirety of her face yet Lando’s face shows what it always does: the love he has for her beauty. Even in her worst moment, he thinks she is the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes on.

“Can I get you out of your clothes? Unzip your dress and take it off along with your heels?” He’s clear and precise with his questions, not wanting to throw her a curveball or something that gets misunderstood.

She nods with a small smile, but Lando stays still, “I need words, pretty girl.”

She blushes in the midst of it all, “Yes, Lan, you can.”

“Perfect” He states before letting his hand gently coax her to sitting position, gliding down her back as her zipper trails with it. When his hands shimmy her dress down her legs, he throws it across the floor, moving to her feet next. He kisses her ankles softly as his fingers work slowly to unbuckle the shoes. When he gets them off, his girlfriend left in a bra and underwear, he moves to the dresser a few feet away. She sits there, exposed, and, while she feels as though she should be on complete alert or scared, she feels at peace. She watches as Lando rummages through his drawer, seeking out his pajamas for her, and she feels nothing but protected and completely loved, accepted by the man before her.

When he returns, her favorite hoodie and sweatpants of his in hand, he helps her into them. When she’s cozy and dressed, he changes into his pajamas in front of her, almost as if he’s trying to put himself at the same level as her. She had undressed in front of him, he undressed in front of her. He didn’t want her to feel as though there was some sort of power dynamic going on, no matter how far that was from the truth of what she was genuinely feeling.

When they’re both comfortable, he leads her into the bathroom and sits her on the counter, his body between her legs before he wipes her makeup off and does her skincare for her. If she wasn’t so emotionally exhausted from the night, she would’ve showered him in praise and a bit of teasing for knowing her routine perfectly, with each step being very clearly memorized. But, this wasn’t an ordinary moment, so she kept quiet as he took care of her. They brushed their teeth together, Lando’s hand keeping its place on her hip in a simple reminder that he was there no matter what.

And when they reached his bed once more, falling under the sheets and heaps of pillows and blankets, Lando brought her into him once more. Her head snuggled into the crook of his neck and his hands trailing up and down her back, he whispered soft words in her ear.

“I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“You are my entire life.”

“I will always be there to protect you.”

His words seep into her skin just like anxiety had hours before during one of the worst moments of her life. Though, this time, instead of worrying what would happen happen next or who would come to save her, all she could think of was the soothing hands on her back and the calming words of the man she would never stop loving.

Lando was it for her, if she hadn’t known that before, she knew it now. As he continued to hold her, never once letting her go throughout the entire night, she found solace within him.

And when morning came, the dreaded phone call from the officer who sought out her statement, Lando sat next to her with his hand in hers and his unwavering support shining through.

There genuinely wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.

He’d bury a body for her, kill for her.

Preferably, if she allowed him, kill the man who had touched her without consent.

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[sanguineterrain]

in your hands | jason todd

Summary: Jason thinks he's too big to be loved. You show him that that's impossible.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings/tags: bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.

A/N: as always, if you like this fic, tell me through comments and reblogs :)

the divider

Tonight, Jason comes home far away.

You clock it as soon as he walks in. He’s moving on autopilot: boots by the door, helmet on the shelf, gear in the closet. He washes his hands, hangs up his jacket, and then he stands at the doorway. And waits. 

You’re never quite sure what he’s waiting for. But you know that he’ll stay stuck in his head if you don’t step in. 

“Hey, baby,” you say, cupping his cheeks. “Hey. You wanna eat or clean up first?”

The change is instant. As soon as you touch him, Jason is there. You’ve never mentioned it to him. It frightens you too much to explore, knowing that you’re his tether. You don’t want to think about what that means, having the power to anchor a man who used to be dead.

He looks at you, meets your gaze head-on.

“Did I disappear?” he whispers.

“Little bit. It’s okay.”

You keep stroking his cheeks, avoiding his shaving cuts and the freshly split lip. There’s a bruise around his eye and on his temple. 

“Wanna wash up,” he finally says, but his hands cling to your waist. 

You pet the back of his neck. “Want me to go with you?” 

“Please?” He glances at the kitchen. “But if you’re in the middle ‘f something, then—”

“No, Jay. C’mon.”

You take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom. Jason undresses while you draw a bath. Soon the bathroom starts to fog up with steam. You pour in some Epsom salts for his muscle aches—you know he should soak more than he does. 

You turn off the faucet. Jason is in his boxers, staring at himself in the mirror. He picks at his autopsy scar, presses the puckered white flesh until it turns red. 

“Jay,” you say gently. “C’mere, honey.”

His hands drop to his sides. Jason goes to the bath, pulls off his underwear, and sinks into the water. It’s a generously-sized tub. Jason had gotten his old tub replaced for a larger one after you’d mentioned that you liked baths. Soon enough, you’d introduced him to the wonders of hot baths for his sore muscles. 

Even with its size, Jason still has to bend his knees slightly to fit. He pushes himself up easily. A little water sloshes over and dampens the edge of your shirt. Jason curses.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. 

“It’s okay, honey. You want me to come in?”

He nods. You pull off your shirt, then your pants and underwear. Jason folds in on himself to make room, but you stop him.

“I’ll just sit between your legs, Jay. No problem.”

You step into the bath. Jason holds your wrist so you can sit down without slipping. He stares at his hand on your arm after you’ve sat. 

You reach over for a washcloth and pour a lightly-scented soap. You lather it up first, then rub it over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Jason is perfectly still. 

“Can you lean over, baby? So I can get your back.”

Jason obediently leans over. You smile at him as he holds himself up with his core. You know Jason’s not just strong, that he’s agile too. He’s very good at wielding his body.

You wash his back. This close, you can see the contours of his muscles, how broad he is. 

When you’re done, you wring the soap out of the cloth and cup water in your palms to rinse the suds off of his skin. You catch his gaze in the mirror across the tub. Jason turns his head.

“God, look at me. How are you not afraid every time I come stompin’ around?”

You stop pouring water and rest your hands on Jason’s biceps. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs. “I’m like a huge, fuckin’... monster. Too big, too loud. I’m—” He swallows, bows his head. “How can you look at me?”

“Jay, honey. You’re not a monster.”

“Bruce thinks so,” he whispers, and straightens. “He can barely look at me. Every time he does, ‘s like he doesn’t even recognize me.”

His hand quietly swishes through the water to claw at his autopsy scar. 

“This is all I am. Just violence. ‘M too big for anything else.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull his head into your chest. Jason hugs you back. His shoulders begin to shake. 

“You’re more than your body,” you say. “You’re more than what the Pit made you. What you were.”

He shakes and cries into your neck. “I was small. People loved me when I was small.”

You pick up his head. Jason’s eyes are thick with tears. You lean in and kiss his Cupid’s bow.

“I love you.” You brush away his tears with your lips. “I love you so much, Jay. That’ll never change.”

“Too big for it,” he rasps.

You shake your head. “No, Jaybird. You’re never too big to be loved.”

“I’m s-scary.”

You kiss his temple, rub between his shoulder blades. Jason clings tighter.

“You don’t scare me. You never have.”

He pulls you closer, so you’re chest-to-chest. You straddle his stomach with your legs and hug Jason as tightly as you can. 

“I was good when I was small,” he says. “I don’t–I don’t know how to be good anymore. I wanna be good, I do. I don’t want Bruce to think I’m bad. I’m still good.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh, Jay. Baby. You are good. You came back to make a change. You’ve always been good. You’ve got a good heart. Nothing’s going to change that. Bruce is stubborn and stuck in his head. But you’ll always be his son. And you’ll always have people who love you.”

“What if I’m not worth it?” he whispers. “What if I’m too lost?”

“Then I’ll go out and find you. And we’ll come home together,” you say. “You’ll always find your way back home.”

He smells like soap and Epsom salts. You kiss his autopsy scar. Jason shakes more. 

“Let me wash your hair, baby,” you say.

He nods, tears on his lashes. You wet his hair and pour shampoo. You rest your lips on his cheek as you lather the shampoo, detangling tiny knots with your fingers. Jason bends at the waist so you can rinse off the soap with the faucet.

You tap his hip and Jason sits up. He slips his arms around you again and tucks his chin into your neck.

“Don’t let go,” he says, suddenly desperate. “Don’t–don’t let me go.”

“I won’t, Jay. I’m right here.”

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